5 Night Five

Spanning the horizon, mountains towered. Lightning writhed at the peaks, as though dragons of yore. The eternal mist was constantly dragged up the mountain face, before cycling down to the valley below. It was extraordinary difficult to see, yet we could faintly make out the cavernous entrance before us.

We made our way inside bravely, without the slightest hesitation. We're almost home, and we have absolute faith in the strength of the legion. However, that absolute certainty wavered slightly as we saw the horrendous sight before us.

We had almost forgotten, but we had entered this valley with the legion at ten thousand strong. And we were forcefully reminded of that now, as we saw the bones of thousands of our comrades.

Their armor was crushed, their bones shattered, and their blades broken. They lay dead in multitudinous positions, but their skeletons all surrounded the rotten corpse of the first monster we had ever fought in this accursed valley.

A drake. Just one, simple drake. And it had wiped out over a quarter of our legion.

The men were silent, looking upon the rotted bodies of their dead friends. Emotions they had thought suppressed welled to the surface, and Praefectus Castrorum Vultes collapsed, weeping. He drew a sigil of the 52nd from within his shirt, and pressed it to his lips. He was muttering frantically between shaking breaths, and seemed to be praying for the souls of our dead.

Axavia walked up behind him, and placed a hand upon his shoulder. He gave Vultes a sympathetic look, before turning to the remnants of his legion.

"Men, before you lay brave men and women who have given their lives in service to Zerisia. Many more have fallen, deep within this twilight realm. May their names be remembered always, and may historians sing laurels in their name for generations to come!" Praetor Axavia said, his voice breaking the silence.

"Come, 52nd, let us face our destiny as one!" He shouted, and turned around. He held the standard high, and stride boldly forth into the cave system. Naturally, we followed suit.

The cave was gloomy and damp, but not necessarily dark. Cave fungus glowed with an unnatural and sickly green light, and I heard our Praetor muttering something about radiation. Regardless, he pressed on, and we followed.

We wandered the caves for hours, feeling like rats stuck in a burrow, before we noticed we were missing legionaries. Half of our legionaries were just... gone.

We have no clue how we lost them, or where they could have gone, as this tunnel lacks branches. But when I informed Axavia of this, he simply shook his head and responded. "Pray we do not lose more."

Our group of fourty nine was now down to just twenty five. Only first and second cohort remain; we lost the engineers and Praefectus Castrorum Vultes. Centurion Helius and the two scouts attending him were gone as well.

We pushed on regardless of the disappearances, and we soon crossed a small brook. It was a pitiful thing, barely three inches across.

As soon as we crossed it, Praetor Axavia turned around and raised our standard protectively. I turned around as well, and staggered back, falling on my ass.

Before me was a head, devoid of any features. It was formed of a black muddy substance, flowing like liquid. Before my eyes, blood flowed from it and it's jaw distended, forming a bloody grin. It was terrifying, like that of a Cheshire Cat.

It was only when Praetor Axavia leaned forwards and raised the standard higher, that the beast reacted. The head drew back, still grinning, and raised higher. It continued raising until it towered high above us; and in the dim glow of the shroomlight, we could see it's true form.

It was as though a human torso had been merged with a mutated horse. It had eight hooves, and a sickle attached to the end of It's right arm. It's left arm ended in a claw, and it was entirely composed of the same black material.

But what terrified me most of all, is what it wore around it's neck. It was a sigil of the 52nd, the same one that Praefectus Castrorum Vultes had been wearing just twenty minutes earlier.

The beast retreated back down the tunnel, until the only thing we could make out was the grin, and the reflection of the sigil.

I collapsed to my knees, out of breath, and Axavia planted the standard between me and the brook.

"The water is the only thing protecting us from it. They are unable or unwilling to cross pure water. I know not which." He said with a shaken voice, before shaking his head vigorously and turning around.

"Come, legionaries. We are almost there!" He cried, seemingly moreso to form his will than inspire the troops, and pushed through the remaining legionaries.

Numbly, we followed behind him. So close to freedom, yet still we lose people. I'm uncertain what knowledge Axavia could possibly offer Zerisia to have made this venture worth it, because this journey cannot possibly be called a victory.

After several more hours travel, and many frantic looks backward, we finally reached the outside. For the first time in months, we saw sunlight. We felt the warmth of dawn's rise, and could be free of the fear of our perpetual twilight.

That warmth was immediately dissipated as a freezing cold wind cut through the mountainous heights, buffeting us. This outside stimulus forced me to refocus upon my environment, instead of my future.

We were in a cavern still, yet open to the elements. Behind us was the tunnel, and the wall across from us was open to the outdoors. The cavern raised high above us, the ceiling cloaked in darkness and shadow, emphasized by the first rays of dawn.

Praetor Axavia took a deep breath of fresh alpine air, and strode forth confidently. We followed suit joyously, laughing with glee. We're free, finally free!

It was when we we had half crossed the cavern that they struck. Wyrms, two of them. They pounced from their place among the stalagmites, spewing acid from their mouths. We lost four people in as many seconds.

We were spread out, unprepared, and disorganized. The wyrms moved like lightning, striking from one unexpecting legionary to the next. By the time we drew gladius to fight back, twelve legionaries had fallen.

The acid melted through armor like it was nothing, and their scales protected them from most gladius strikes.

"Stab, don't swing!" Praetor Axavia cried, as Eli's gladius deflected off the scales of a wyrm.

The wyrm retaliated, swiping Eli with it's tail, breaking her leg and throwing her against a wall. The wyrm pivoted as it was stabbed by the last scout, and sprayed the poor bastard with acid.

He died screaming, his armor melting just as easily as his skin, as it all sloughed off him in dribs and drabs. He made it two steps away from the wyrm, before he fell to the ground, dead.

While we focused on this wyrm, the other one reeks havoc on the other legionaries. Only eight of the original twenty three remained alive and fighting, about what can be expected from invading a wyrm nest unprepared.

I roared with rage, and raced towards the closest wyrm. It hissed, and bared it's fangs at me. I threw myself forwards into a roll, and narrowly dodged another batch of acid.

I jumped to my feet, drew back my gladiusc and plunged it into the still open mouth of the wyrm. It screeched in pain, and I drove my gladius further in. Then, from my left, Axavia appeared. With standard raised high, he slammed the eagle sigil down upon the wyrm head, forcing It's mouth closed upon my sharpened blade.

The wyrm's head was split in two, and we turned to face the other wyrm. We turned just in time to see it rip the head off a legionary, and turn to face us. It hissed at the sight of it's dead mate, and writhed towards us.

Only Axavia, Allia, and I remained standing. It was all or nothing. We charged forwards, zigzagging to prevent an acid burst from taking us out. We clashed with the wyrm, my gladius piercing it's scales and leaving a bloody gash. It responded with a flick of It's tail, shattering my leg.

I crumpled to the ground in agony, and heard Allia scream. I flopped over in time to see the wyrm draw it's fangs from her stomach, and watched as the blood spurted out of her in time with her heartbeat.

Axavia roared with rage, his voice surely echoing through the mountains, as he plunged the speartip of the standard through the eye of the wyrm; impaling the beast through the skull, and pinning it to the ground.

In it's death spasms, it's tail collided with Allia, throwing her against Axavia, as they both tumbled to the ground near me.

I groaned, tears falling from my eyes with the pain, as I dragged myself towards Axavia and Allia. Her bloodied hand rested against his face, and he whispered something to her.

She smiled faintly, then, and her head turned to face the horizon. To see the dawn's light, one final time.

After the last of Allia's lifeblood drained onto the floor, Axavia carefully lowered her to the ground, and slowly stood. Then, he turned around and walked towards the open wall. When he was about fifteen paces out, he turned back to us.

"Are you lot coming, or not? We have a while longer to hike." Axavia asked, casually. As though he hadn't just had his lover bleed out in his arms.

Eli and I were dumbfounded, which quickly turned to outrage. My adoptive daughter just died! I crawled the rest of the way to her, and held her in my arms.

"Have you no emotion?!" I roared, turning towards him and cradling the body of my dead charge.

He smiled in response. A genuine smile, devoid of sarcasm.

"It took you long enough to figure that out. I would've thought it more obvious before now." He said, laughing.

"I actually am apathetic, which means my range of emotion is limited. I can only feel faintly positive, or faintly negative emotions. I can occasionally feel joy, and grief; but only with people I've known for years." He said, turning to look at me with cold, dead eyes.

"To be honest, we've known each other for barely over a week. In any other circumstance, I probably wouldn't even remember your names." Axavia said, twirling the blade in his hand.

My jaw dropped open at his statement. How had we allowed an individual this damaged to slip into our ranks? Why had it taken us so long to notice?

"Here's a bit of information that could've helped. Maybe, next time you rip someone away from their peaceful life through a magical portal, ask them a few questions first. Such as, what is your profession? Do you have any preexisting mental conditions? And most importantly, do you want to come?!" Axavia roared the last part, rage clouding his eyes.

"I was dragged away from my peaceful life, thrust into a world of hostility and constant death by my kidnappers, and told to lead you all to safety. If it weren't for that damned Kumiho, you lot would've been consumed by the succubi!" He roared, advancing on my crippled form with his gladius drawn.

"Did you seriously think I didn't know about the windigoag? The spriggan cult warned me about them as soon as they realized I spoke their tongue!" He yelled, his rage echoing off the cavern walls and rebounding throughout the cave system.

Eli dragged herself forwards, trying to interdict herself between Axavia and I. It simply made Axavia laugh.

"And you, dumb bitch, did you really think I wouldn't be able to tell that you'd been replaced? No proper legionary sub-commander would've so willingly let their general be controlled by an outsider." He said, in a cold, cruel voice.

Then, without a moment's hesitation, he plunged his blade into Eli; piercing her sternum. From the wound flowed not blood, but a viscous, purple sludge. As I watched, Eli slowly deflated, as though her body was simply a puppet controlled by the sludge.

Axavia immediately swung towards me, the plunged the blade downwards. The sludge desperately tried reforming itself, trying to interdict itself between me and the blade. It was too late.

The last thing I saw before closing my eyes forever, was the standard of the 52nd legion. It's banner stained red with the blood of legionaries, and it's gear sigil stained black with the blood of monsters. It's spear tip impaled through the skull of the wyrm, and it's golden eagle gleaming proudly in the warm glow of dawn's light.

"What irony," I thought, "that the legion should fall to the very one prophesied to save us all."