Nightmare

Aldwyn and Master Sewell approached the church, their boots silent on the moonlit cobblestone. The guards at the door eyed them warily but stepped aside as Aldwyn presented the scroll with a flourish. The heavy doors creaked open, revealing the dimly lit interior of the church.

The large hall within was a testament to the power and opulence of the Church of the Silent Night. Pillars of black marble reached up to a vaulted ceiling lost in shadow, adorned with gold-leafed carvings that danced in the flickering candlelight. The walls were lined with tapestries depicting scenes of silent, stoic figures bearing the burdens of faith and the wrath of their deity. The air was thick with incense, the scent of myrrh and frankincense mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood.

At the far end of the hall, an altar of gleaming obsidian loomed. Upon it lay a corpse, its limbs arranged in a disturbing pattern that suggested something far from the peace of rest. The body was bruised and mutilated, a clear sign of recent and violent struggle. High Confessor Elian stood before this macabre tableau, his back to the intruders, his voice resonating through the chamber as he recited a formula. The air around him shimmered with an unnatural energy that seemed to make the very stones of the church quiver.

"O Dark Prince, Lord of Shadows,

Your call pierces the night.

Bring us the power of transformation,

Let us unfold the flesh of monsters."

"Through the darkness, through the fire,

Awaken the creatures within us.

With every word we whisper,

Grow claws, teeth and wings that speed us up."

"O lord, united in you,

Let us be at your service,

Strengthen us in the night,

Let our souls hunt tirelessly."

"In the name of chaos and darkness,

Transform us, Lord of spirits.

We are your servants, your power,

May the world tremble before us!"

"So be it!"

Aldwyn's senses immediately alerted him and he drew his twin blades. „This is a ritual for a demon... From a High Confessor of a church... This is truly blasphemy!"

Master Sewell also recognized the danger and braced himself for the worst. He looked at High Confessor Elian with a heavy expression, "What the hell did you just do?"

The confessor turned, his eyes a disturbing shade of crimson, matching the light emanating from the altar. "I have simply called upon the power of our true patron," he sneered.

Before Aldwyn and Master Sewell could react, red-yellow flashes appeared around the High Confessor.

"I'm doing this for the good of this city, it's the only chance to get peace!" He said. "The believers of this wonderful church, my brothers and sisters, and I will finish it."

The city seemed to hold its breath for seconds until red and yellow flashes appeared from everywhere and spread across the entire city. It flashed in every corner.

Aldwyn realized that they were in serious danger. To their left and right, red and yellow flashes also began to appear. People in robes surrounded them and the confessor laughed in a very shrill tone.

The moon glowed an intense crimson and a river of blood flowed from it. The sky was littered with flashes of red and yellow, leaving behind a sight that could have come straight out of a nightmare.

Master Sewell shouted, "Aldwyn, we have to go now!"

But it was too late. The flashes grew brighter, and the figures surrounding them began to morph, their human forms stretching and distorting into grotesque monstrosities. The guards' armor grew organically into their flesh, becoming part of their new, twisted bodies. Their eyes widened into gaping maws, filled with razor-sharp teeth. Claws erupted from their fingertips, and wings of shadowy membranes unfurled from their backs. The very essence of the nightmare realm seeped into Helgarde.

The High Confessor's transformation was the most disturbing of all. His once-human figure expanded and elongated, his robes tearing away to reveal a muscular, bestial form covered in thick fur. His limbs grew longer and ended in claws that clicked menacingly against the stone floor. His face stretched into a snout filled with fangs, and his eyes burned with a fiery intensity that seemed to pierce through the darkness. He had become a creature that defied description, a living embodiment of chaos and malice.

Aldwyn and Master Sewell rushed from the church without hesitation, but the scene outside was even worse.

The quiet streets of Helgarde had transformed into a battleground. The transformed guards, now demonspawn, clashed with the city's defenders, leaving a trail of destruction and chaos. The air was filled with screams of terror and the clang of steel. The moon itself seemed to shrink away from the horrors unleashed upon the city.

When the figures noticed Aldwyn and Master Sewell they decided to split up, Aldwyn heading west, Master Sewell east.

Out of the church streamed a dozen creatures in their pursuit, one half dashing after Aldwyn and the other after Master Sewell.

....

At the very same time in the main hall of the Hall of the Sword.

Gustav was overseeing the preparations for the upcoming battle when he heard the commotion outside. He rushed to the window, his heart racing. The sight of the transformed guards and the chaos they brought to the streets was almost too much to bear.

From the corner of his eye, Gustav recognized two red and yellow lights. He turned quickly and realized that they were two of his friends.

Two of the Guild members he had trained alongside and shared drinks with, had succumbed to the High Confessor's dark magic. One, a burly man named Grigor, had become a twisted mass of muscle and bone. His skin was now a sickly pallor, stretched taut over his distended frame. His eyes were sunken into his skull, glowing with an eerie blue light, and his teeth had elongated into sharp fangs. His once human hands had morphed into claws that clicked against the floor as he moved, his knuckles dragging like a creature of the night.

The other, the nimble named Elara, had undergone an even more unsettling change. Her lithe figure had grown taller, stretching until she was almost unrecognizable. Her skin had turned to a deep, shiny black, and her eyes had transformed into pools of shadow that swallowed the light. Her fingers ended in sharp talons, and from her back emerged a set of wings that looked as if they were made from the darkest shadows themselves. They fluttered erratically as she stumbled forward, a disturbing, unnatural sight that seemed to suck the very life from the room.

....

At House Phainslill, Lady Eilif was surrounded by her most trusted advisors. Her eyes were filled with determination as she studied the map of Helgarde laid out on the grand mahogany table. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows on her face, highlighting her sharp features and the lines of worry etched into her forehead.

Without warning, a piercing scream echoed through the corridors of the house. The color drained from Lady Eilif's face as she recognized the voice—it was her sister, Lady Althea. She bolted from the room, her guards following closely behind.

As they rounded the corner, they were met with a horrific sight. Lady Althea stood in the doorway, her body writhing as it contorted and grew into something unspeakable. Her once elegant gown shredded as muscles bulged and fur sprouted. Her eyes burned with a feral hunger that sent a chill down their spines. In a flash of red and yellow, she had transformed into a creature of nightmares.

....

At House Brarnsaiph, Lord Charles Brarnsaiph was in the midst of a tense strategy session with his advisors. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of burnt candle wax and the weight of their impending battle.

As the red and yellow flashes illuminated the city, the tension in the room grew palpable. Suddenly, one of the advisors, a man named Havelock, convulsed and let out a guttural scream. His eyes grew wild and his body began to twist and contort into a monstrous form. His skin turned a sickly green, and his fingers stretched into long, sharp claws. His face elongated into a snout, revealing a mouth full of jagged teeth.

....

4 minutes since the chaos...

234 transformations...

1760 deaths...

Helgarde no longer exists... It's just a very dark nightmare.