The First Assignment, Part 3
Svetlana was disappointed in how rapidly Elora was losing her composure. This was all a Centurion could offer in an existential crisis?
"Pull yourself together, Centurion. Watchman. Stay in that corner. Will decide what do after." Svetlana ordered, pointing at a far corner of the Church, near the door.
Gordon glared at Svetlana for a long moment, but she was still a rusalki so he didn't want to test her temper. Elora collapsed and began breathing heavily as soon as Gordon was in the corner.
"We're doomed." She whispered over and over, ignoring Svetlana.
"Jackson. Am taking charge of situation. Status of your barrier?" Svetlana stated.
"Still holding. The Church's own barrier collapsed a few minutes after he killed the Priest." Jackson said, looking at Elora. "Will she be okay?"
"She discover fairy tale is real." Svetlana was slightly annoyed. "Waste no more time. Only Goddess can fix problem."
Svetlana paced, despite her confident facade. There was no guarantee Eigengrau would actually answer her summons, even in the face of the threat. Any ritual was pointless, so she decided to do it in the most simple manner possible. She would deal with any consequences.
"Lady Eigengrau!" Svetlana shouted, looking up at the ceiling. "We, the Spiritual Garrison, request your aid!"
For a moment that felt far too long, nothing happened. Svetlana was prepared for this possibility, and looked saddened. But then a freezing fog began creeping down the stairs and cross the floor. Immediately, she reacted and shouted for everybody to stop touching the floor. Jackson hauled Elora onto a bench and Gordon curled his legs up onto a chair. In a moment none of them would ever forget, Eigengrau simply willed herself into existence in the centre of the Church.
Eigengrau looked around. Her expressionless face betrayed nothing as to what she was feeling or thinking, and her very presence felt wrong. Seeing Svetlana, she walked up to her, her bare feet leaving patches of frost on the floor. For a brief minute she looked at Svetlana, towering over the rusalki. Svetlana for her part was defiant in the face of an inscrutable God and simply gestured around, before speaking.
"Прошу прощения, Эйгенграу." Svetlana stated. "Решение этой проблемы находится далеко за пределами наших возможностей."
To Svetlana's surprise, Eigengrau responded.
"Yes." Eigengrau replied. The voice was flat, emotionless, with all the warmth of a stone slab.
Then she turned and walked toward the church’s front doors. She did not open them. She simply passed through the heavy oak as if it weren’t there, like mist through the trees. There was no sound, no flicker of magic. No proof she’d ever been there at all.
"What did you say to her?" Jackson whispered to Svetlana.
"My command of Gilnan... not the best. So I tell to her we cannot solve." Svetlana knew she was still not very good at human speech, so she had opted to speak in Rus to Eigengrau.
"What now?" He asked.
"We wait." Svetlana murmured, her voice cold and resigned.
They did not wait long. The air was heavy, it felt and tasted wrong. The unnatural stillness that permeated the church after the earlier outbursts between Henry and Gordon begged for something to fill the silence.
The earth groaned. Then it shuddered, as though something beneath it were waking from a long, unnatural sleep. A sound like distant cannon-fire rolled in, booming and roaring. Dust fell from the rafters as the noise continued.
Svetlana didn't speak, not at first. She ran to the doors and opened them. The wind nearly tore it from her grasp. A howl like the sky itself screaming greeted them. Cold air hit her like a slap. And then she saw it.
The sky was torn. Not clouds, not storm. A wound.
A jagged white scar stretched across the heavens, light bleeding out of it like blood from a ruptured vein. In it writhed something vast and monstrous, a silhouette of black limbs and massive stone hands forcing its way through the rent. It didn’t move like anything natural. There was no sense of weight or dimension, only motion that should not be.
Three figures stood in the air, above the battlefield like gods of judgement. No, they were gods. One, tall and still as a monolith, Svetlana knew instantly: Lady Eigengrau, the silent mourner of forgotten graves. She stood in robes that rippled like dying light. The others were too distant. Even her rusalki eyes couldn’t resolve their features, only vague shapes that moved in impossible ways. One almost looked like they were wearing a long white cape and peaked cap, but she couldn't be sure. She seemed familiar to Svetlana. Like she saw her on a destroyed mural once, somewhere.
Every part of Svetlana wanted to dive into the deepest lake, and hide beneath the silt. It was an old fear, an ancestral memory of when the rus was a young race. The fear of the unknown.
"Centurion!" Svetlana shouted.
Behind her, the church stirred. Elora looked up from her frantic muttering, and her eyes widened at the sight. Shock froze her in place for a breath. Then she moved, striding to Svetlana’s side.
"What's happening?" She couldn't believe her eyes. A massive inky black monster was being forced through a tear in the sky.
Svetlana let out a strangled gasp. "The barrier, necromancer." Her voice cracked. "The liminal barrier is gone."
Elora paled. "You mean, between this world and-"
"Yes."
From behind them, Jackson arrived, breath caught in his throat as he took in the scene. Others inside the church were crowding behind them now. Someone began to cry.
"How's your barrier holding up?" Elora asked, as she clutched her chest. What was this tightness?
"Like it's just a cool winter night out there." He knew the barrier would crumble if anything hit it, so he lied. "I-what is this?"
"Profane thing! Do not look!" Svetlana hissed. Whatever was happening could already be affecting all of them. "Seal door! Now!"
Just as they were starting to close the door, a blinding lance shot from the scar. Like it was aimed, it hit Jackson in the hand. He wanted to scream, but it was like the entire universe was sitting on his chest. He felt like something older than time was watching him, deciding if he mattered. He fell to his knees, clutching his arm. White light raced up his flesh, searing away skin, meat, bone. There was no flame or fire, he was simply being... unmade.
"Fuck!" Svetlana shouted, tackling him to the ground. She could feel the heat from it, the wrongness. She spotted the thin line crawling up his arm, and knew she had to act. Grabbing his sword, with one practised strike, she cut through his forearm just below the elbow. The stump sizzled, with wrongness. The severed limb vanished before it hit the ground. Not even ash remained.
"W–what the fuck just happened to my hand?" Jackson gasped, eyes wide with horror. He was going into shock, and was just focused on his breathing.
"Nevermind that!" Elora snapped, whirling around. "We need to reinforce the barriers while we still can!"
"Know water barriers. Will cast." Svetlana nodded, staggering toward the altar, her hands trembling. "Centurion. Have barrier?"
Svetlana looked up, and saw Elora hesitating, before coming close to the altar.
"The forbidden school has a... barrier of sorts." She leaned in, her voice trembling. "But if I use it, they'll know. There would be no mistaking it for any other kind of magic. Everyone here will know what I am. If I cast this..."
Elora leaned in and whispered the last part through clenched teeth.
"They'll never forget. All they'll remember is a necromancer."
Svetlana stared hard at Elora for a long moment before answering, even as she continued to cast her spell. "If we live, we deal with that." Svetlana glanced up at the ceiling as it shook again. "If the barriers fail... none of us will be remembered."