The Isterica

To be a warrior is to bleed. But this goes beyond shedding the mist that grants you life, beyond killing and being killed on the field of battle. A warrior sheds the blood of their body and the blood of their enemy, yes, but this alone does not make one a warrior.

A warrior sheds the blood of their psyche with each comrade slain and life taken.

A warrior sheds the blood of their soul, by devotion to that cause which grants them purpose.

A warrior sheds the blood of their heart, giving it up to strengthen their compatriots, or any good soul in need of it.

It is last of all that a warrior should shed the blood of a living thing, but when it is required, a warrior will not hesitate to do that which is required.

Standing in near pitch black Striferan night, made blacker by the looming wall she sheltered under, Samila recited On Blood to herself once more. It was a likelihood—No, a certainty— that she’d have to shed blood in all of its forms tonight. Reciting the ancient words of the Black Wing helped her cope with that knowledge, and reminded her of what she was, a Srihallaré Ké Atri’tae: A Striferan Warrior. After her last two years alongside the Resistance, her Heartlander origins seemed trivial compared to this new purpose. She supposed that was the goal of any Ariasti, to find a calling of their Heart strong enough to render their old lives mere memory.

Though Samila could see only those closest to her, she was just one in a force of some 300 Angels. Within minutes they would Unleash their wings and soar over Talamis’ goliath wall or through the city’s gate, and the hunt would be on. Either that, or their operatives inside the city would be captured and killed by the Prosperians and the whole operation would be doomed, but Samila had elected not to consider that possibility. 

Though she was sure Malinace had a plan in mind, Samila went over her squad’s target and his defenses one last time.

High Captain Ornael, a Battalion Commander of Prosperity’s Fourth Army, was the commander of Talamis’ occupying force. His second, Captain Istus, was the objective of another squad, but if by some means they are killed or the Captain escapes, it would fall upon Samila’s squad to kill Istus as well. The reverse was true if they failed to kill Ornael. With Lightborn Officers, you often had to cut off two heads, lest one survive and carry on their superior’s duties.

A kindly, distracted voice came softly from her left— Malinace. “ I’ll go over this one final time. Keep pace with me and conserve your Spirit. If we meet any resistance on our way in, evade it unless absolutely necessary. Ornael is likely guarded, and reports suggest he’s as dangerous in battle as any Lightborn soldier, even caught off guard. This could get bloody, fast. We strike quickly. Kill Ornael, confirm with the others that Istus is dead, and leave. If the garrison reacts quickly enough, it will be chaos— but no matter how bad it gets, do not get separated. If we see any of our allies injured or at risk, we will make a call on whether or not we can rescue them. Finally, if you spy any of the Fist, or any hint of the Left Hand’s presence—Flee, we do not have lives to spare battling the Pristarum, and I’ve grown rather fond of you all.”

“Aye.”  Her squad sounded. Samila could hear similar whispers all about the warriors. Blades, armor, and other equipment hissed and clattered quietly: Final checks— more a nervous habit than anything useful. Samila did the same, checking her shortsword’s draw for any friction or sticking.

“May the Archangels protect you, dear friends and allies; and if you must draw blood, may you fight with the ferocity of the Black Wing himself. Sah Srihalla!” He finished, raising his fist, barely visible in the pervasive darkness.

Samila and her squad returned the informal salute, “Sah Srihalla!”

If everything was going well, the Resistance’s assets within the city would seize control of the gate any second now and the operation would begin in earnest. Evidently, the diversion meant to draw the guards from the eastern wall had succeeded, as there was no sign of light or wings above. Everything was in place, and Samila’s wings itched to be Unleashed— to connect with the Sphere itself— to gain its power and let loose all the emotion in her breast; her wild fear, her manic excitement, her solemn sense of purpose.

This was the Resistance’s most significant operation in years, led by The Nightmare himself; even without wings to read their Presence, Samila could sense the crowds building frenzy. She flexed her fingers around her spear, trying and failing to take a deep breath. She longed to get on with it already, the anticipation was always worse than the reality. Surely the—

With a sudden CRACK and GRRRRRRR, the gate began to rise.

All around Samila, the pitch night exploded with radiance—Warriors Unleashing their wings, warm feathers brushing her arm as Angels dashed towards the rising gate and shot into the air. Samila joined them, and she felt the connection as her wings burst from the slits in her armor. 

Her Presence mingled with the others in an overwhelming surge of sensation. The intense emotions crashing into her and sweeping her up like a burning wave. She roared with passion and spread her red wings wide, summoning the power of Spirit, she channeled strength into her legs and leapt into the sky. Her emotions fed her Spirit, and she felt powerful— but she’d been trained well enough not to let it go to her head. She surged over the black stone wall, landing briefly on a parapet to conserve her Spirit and power of flight. The stretch of wall directly around her was clear, but in her periphery she saw a number of bulky figures with wings Unleashed—Prosperian Laelites— a few sentinels caught by surprise after the diversion.

Malinace had already landed nearby, and after a brief moment of survey, he leapt off the wall in a whirl of gray feathers, his eyes fixed on a large building in the distance. Samila and the others followed closely behind. As she glided toward the city below, she glanced at the wall behind her and saw a number of gray-skinned Striferan Eagles—like Malinace— engage the sentinels. Powerful Blasts of Will fired from both parties illuminated the wall, casting the embattled Angels in alien light. As she slowed her descent and landed on the rooftop, one final glance revealed an Eagle swooping down and impaling a Laelite upon the point of his spear. 

Samila turned away and continued following Malinace across Talamis, hopping from rooftops and gliding across sections of open streets and squares. She could barely keep up with Malinace, and the man was going easy on them— it was not easy to match the aerial agility of a Striferan Eagle, especially one so experienced as he. He swept, twisted, glided and leapt, and even when they weren’t in the air, he still seemed to be flying. It was all she and the others could do to keep within range of him without burning away too much of their well of Spirit.

Even despite their pace, Samila couldn’t help but note the utilitarian architecture of Talamis, all dark stone and sharp, unadorned geometry. It seemed more a fortress than a city. That, of course, was the point; Talamis was the bulwark that any who came to the Strife Sphere were forced to encounter, but that hadn’t stopped the Prosperians and their damnable Lightborn from seizing the city regardless. Tonight they would return the favor, even if only in a minor way.

Some 30 yards away, she saw Prosperian Angels emerge from a building and shoot into the sky: A small squad of Laelites and Paelens led by a Lightborn Officer. The squad shot off to engage one of the Resistance squads en route to their target. As they carried on, Samila saw Prosperian military police on the streets below scramble to respond, but as of yet they were still caught up in the speed and suddenness of the attack. So far her squad had escaped notice, but she knew that much longer out here and that would change. Even ordinary soldiers of the United Armies of Order were well trained, and once the Lightborn organized them the Resistance would begin to be cut down by superior numbers in occupied territory. Speed was of the essence, every wasted moment gave the enemy time to gather their wits.

Samila locked eyes on the target building about a minute away, a tall, multi storied structure with a spiked roof to prevent landing. It was a sharp contrast to the rest of the city, a bright blue, white, and silver structure in the midst of the city’s dark color and atmosphere; like a stain of ugly paint upon an otherwise beautifully dark canvas. Huge, pompous banners of the UAO’s Fourth Army rippled and snapped in the windy night. This was the Fortified Headquarters of the occupying force.

Without looking back at them, Malinace barked out an order,  “PREPARE THE CARDIUM.” With a sharp gesture, he indicated a tiny slit of a window in the structure, shuttered by near impenetrable Striferite. The squad leaped off a roof one final time and flew at top speed towards the Headquarters, Samila felt her Spirit quaver slightly at the speed, to go much faster would truly weaken her Spirit. In the blur of motion she eyed her squadmate, Rolinel, he opened a thick, bulging sack and drew out a rough, pinkish metal that glowed softly from within: Cardium, the Auric Metal of Samila’s home Sphere, Heart. When charged with an Angel’s Will it would become unstable and eventually destroy itself in a violent detonation. Cardium was so unstable that even an Angel’s emotionally laden Presence could charge the Cardium, so Rolinel had to store it in a specially designed pack. Even now— mere seconds after being exposed to their heightened emotions— the Cardium’s glow began to grow stronger.

Malinace stretched out his left hand and with flick of his wrist summoned a large gray Bolt of Will above his palm. He put his hand behind his opposite shoulder, then snapped his arm forward, sending the Bolt zipping toward the reinforced window. The bolt burst against the window with a loud, ringing ZZZZZROOOOOM. The window appeared unscathed, but the sound would alert the scrambling soldiers within to their exact location—-Just as Malinace had wanted— Samila knew where her squad leader would want her; she pivoted upwards and grabbed hold of one of the spikes on the roof and hung there, feet planted as firmly as she could against the wall, wings splayed to steady her. She tucked her spear in the crook of her armpit and held the now-free hand ready. She swept her gaze briefly across the surrounding city and saw no threats, most of the Prosperians would likely have been deployed to zones and targets the Resistance reached first, leaving the heart of the city with a skeleton crew.

Malinace drew his longsword with a practiced arm before clinging to a spike as she did, her other squadmate, a towering, muscled Darkblood called Talicel joined them. Rolinel held back, wings beating in short, rapid strokes to keep him hovering in the air. Each squadmate’s Presence revealed fear, excitement, and focus. 

The little window flung open violently, and Samila used her Spirit to enhance her vision, bringing into focus a pair of peering blue eyes set in a thin, angular face. Through the slit Samila felt the soldier’s Presence, betraying the man’s fury— and his intention. As the Paelen raised a hand and summoned his Will, Rolinel hurtled forward at breakneck speed, his Will channeled into the hunk of Cardium. The very air became charged with energy and Samila’s skin crawled at the raw power of the Cardium. The Paelen cried from within and fired a spiralling torrent of blue-tinted Will, the power rushed hungrily through the small opening and tore out in a cone of violent energy—a costly, all out attack— the Paelen had either seen or sensed what Rolinel held.

Rolinel rolled in midair, swerving to avoid the blast and using his Spirit to summon a shimmering Barrier against his skin— a Guard— he escaped the brunt of the impact, but Samila heard him cry out as part of the attack scalded through the Guard on his left Flank. Still, Rolinel reached the window and shoved the Cardium through the opening, then pushed himself off the wall and flew backwards a s far as he could get.

From within Samila heard screams of fear from the Paelen and others nearby, and a wave of terror touched Samila’s Presence. “CARDIUM!” someone cried. Their fear would only excite the Cardium further. Samila took a deep, shuddering breath, “Sah Srihalla.” She whispered. Then she summoned her Will, she used the well of power within her to draw forth two bright pricks of fiery power, she held the Bolts ready, swirling them around her forearm.

The Cardium EXPLODED with a sound like layered lightning, arcing tendrils of pink and red ripped through the building, the floor, ceiling, and walls surrounding where the window had been crumbled like rotten wood. Samila let loose the Bolts from her arm and guided them around each side of the crumbled wall and into the unknown beyond, and with a mental order, the bolts erupted in a blinding flash of light, disorienting anyone within.

Malinace let loose a wild cry and swept in through the opening, Samila gave her own roar as she and the others followed him, letting go of the spike and rushing into the building in a rush of swooshing wings. She landed to the left of the gaping cavity in the floor, saw sickly green Bloodmist steaming from a Laelite’s corpse, Malinace’s sword stained with the same stuff. Behind her at the other side of the gap, Talicel grabbed a Paelen soldier with a long, muscled arm and slammed the woman’s skull into the wall, crushing it in a burst of Bloodmist. Rolinel landed beside Samila and grimaced as he healed his scorched flank with Spirit, the ugly wound was replaced by smooth skin, but the effort would render him weaker. 

“To the target!” Malinace yelled, “Ready yourselves, the Lightborn and his guards will not give up their blood so easily.” He ran down the hall, his wings tucked close to allow Samila and the others to see ahead of him. Two uniformed Laelites with hard eyes came out of a door up ahead, wings Unleashed. 

One pulled a handaxe from a loop on his belt and bellowed with fury, he charged, axe raised, green Will swirling across his free arm. Samila drew forth her Will and stepped forward, with practiced rapidity she summoned four Bolts and fired three at the oncoming enemy and sent the final at his fellow behind him. The bold one twisted to avoid one Bolt and summoned a powerful Guard to absorb the rest. He flung his arm in a sweeping arc as he drew close, and an enormous wave of force flung her backwards like a doll. She slammed into Talicel, causing the darkblood to stumble, he lifted Samila to her feet and Rolinel kicked her fallen spear back to her as Talicel pushed in front to take her place. Malinace had Guarded against the attack and was now locked in combat with the Laelite, who chopped and hacked at him like a rabid animal, fist aflame with Will. Before he could assist, the other Laelite was on Talicel, who barely threw up his Guard to avoid being ran through by a shortsword. Talicel grabbed the man’s wrist and disarmed him before slamming him against the wall with a Darkblood’s vaunted athleticism, Samila assumed an underhanded grip on her spear and raised it high, jabbing the tip towards the pinned Laelite’s exposed neck. Too disoriented to Guard, her Spear struck true, and the Laelite gurgled as dark green Bloodist rolled in twisting knots from the wound. In a desperate effort to save himself, the dying Laelite expended the remainder of his Spirit to heal the wound, and, in doing so, slid to the ground limp; the effort of Spirit too great to maintain consciousness.

Talicel cracked the poor soldier’s skull against the wall, finishing him off, then the both of them turned to the other Laelite only to find them sprawled on the floor with limp wings, Malinace wiping his blade clean of the half-evaporated Bloodmist. Rolinel hung slightly back and to her left;with a good portion of his will and Spirit depleted during the Cardium breach, he had followed standard protocol and fallen slightly back to allow those at their best to do the majority of the fighting. There was little he could have done anyway; with their Wings Unleashed even the wide hallway was claustrophobic, and only permitted two up front if they wished to fight effectively. It was only due to Talicel grappling the Laelite against the wall Samila was able to strike the enemy at all.

They carried on toward where their intelligence had placed the High Captain, but met with no more resistance. It had been long enough that the enemy had likely surmised the nature of their operation, and those remaining had likely retreated to protect their officers.

Clearly following the same line of logic, Malinace spoke quietly,  “They’ve shaken off the scare we gave them and are likely formed up at Ornael’s chambers, if I were a Lightborn, I’d have barricaded myself within my rooms and let the rank-and-file tire out my enemy before sending myself and my best to clean up. Classic UAO playbook.”

They proceeded towards Ornael’s chambers as fast as they could manage while still searching any unlocked rooms they came across. The last thing they needed was to be pincered from the rear. As they cut towards the heart of the building, Samila was no longer able to hear even the faintest sound from the rest of the city. The lack of noise lent the headquarters a foreboding air, furthermore, she was surrounded by iconography and symbolism of the United Armies of Order. From office space to counsel rooms and beyond, she saw four gleaming swords plunged into green Prosperian grass beneath a multicolored sky— the symbol of the Fourth Army. Even worse was the imagery depicting the Archon of Order himself, his proud features fixing them a judgemental expression, resplendent in silvery armour with huge pauldrons, his Archonic ring of light where wings would typically be. It made Samila feel as if she was being watched, and that filled her with dread. 

Finally they rounded a corner into another hallway, except this time, it was filled with Prosperians. Trained in the ways of guerilla warfare, Samila’s eyes picked apart the enemies of their own accord, assessing weaponry, Angelic varieties, formation, even posture; each of these factors and more factored into a subconscious computation any Resistance member with experience learned was of vital importance. Fighting against vastly superior numbers and technology, one must learn to find chinks in armor that at first glance seems impenetrable.

3 broad Laelites stood as a bulwark at the front of the group, two held shields at the ready, and all carried spears, smaller one-handed spears paired with the shields and a pike for the other. In the narrow corridor they appeared as one amalgamated being, leering down at them in the gloomy light. Behind them and further down the corridor, three thin Paelens, likely armed with small blades to provide support with Will, she could hardly see them in the mess of wings.

They cried some line from the Honal Ethica all fighters of the UAO were fed. A ritual not unlike her own recital of On Blood. The Presence of each of the enemies mingled with Samila’s and her allies’, granting another layer to the oncoming clash. These Prosperians were well-trained, as Samila could detect little intention from their Presence—though she had never been a skilled Reader. The joined Presence of friend and foe ignited both the lust for battle and fear of it within her, but in truth the terror seemed to win the race for control.

Suddenly alight with fear of real battle, Samila tried to be rational and develop a plan of attack so that the enemy would not sense her fear. Here in these cramped confines, the Paelens are the weak links, their Willpowers are of little use if any of us gets within striking distance. The Laelites are the—

The Paelens began to swirl their arms overhead in rhythmic circles, and large motes of pulsing white-blue light flashed into existence and followed the rotations, creating three hypnotic circles that danced in concert with one another.

The Rolling Whirlwind! Samila thought, she glanced nervously to either side, if the Paleens charged and fired their Whirlwind, her squad was as good as dead. Those orbs of light would zip forward and erupt violently. Likely they had some sign to give the Laelites, so that they might retreat in time to survive.

She froze, really froze. She could almost feel the cold hands of one of the Demons on her shoulders, dragging her into darkness.

Malinace reached back and rapped his fist sharply on the chainmail-laden nape of her neck—just enough to hurt— then dashed forth, wings streaming behind him, longsword poised for bloodshed. He had sensed her terror. Samila audibly gasped, then gritted her teeth against the fear and raised her left arm, she was best trained to stall the Paelens until her allies could reach them.

Samila took a deep breath and bent her knees slightly, then reached her raised hand behind her shoulder until she touched her wings. She leaned back slightly, putting her weight into the shaft of her spear. Her other squadmates had advanced and were trying to break through the Laelites; she forced herself to look past the clash and focus her attention on the Paelens and their Rolling Whirlwind, the light from the orbs was growing stronger by the second. 

She gritted her teeth and expanded her Presence until she felt the power of those swirling orbs, violent energy longing to be free. With a growl, she began to exert her Will upon them. It was hard, very hard. Her distance from the orbs and their active control by the Paelens made them difficult to shift. She tried to extinguish the orbs, but the Paelens took notice and resisted her. Samila’s whole body trembled with the effort, and the orbs shuddered, slowed, and grinded to a halt, their glow beginning to dim. 

Her allies were still being held at bay by the jabbing Laelties, she saw Malinace dash smoothly forward, the pike of one Laelite scraping across his shimmering guard. He battered aside a thrust from the other Laelite’s smaller spear, then used his weight to pin the pike’s shaft against his comrades shield. With an awkward thrust, he took the pikeman in the neck, spraying bloodmist.

She looked away. She had managed to stop their ability to empower the Whirlwind,  but by her reckoning, it still had more than enough energy to kill Malinace or any one of her squadmates. They would—

They launched the first orb.

It meandered down the corridor. Her interference had prevented it from being shot at full speed, but it was still plenty fast enough to smash into her comrades and annihilate them, and it seemed the Paelens weren’t too concerned about their own allies, either. She summoned a sparking Bolt with a flick of her wrist and directed it at the orb. The Bolt zipped through the air, leaving a glittering orange trail in its wake. It struck the orb straight on—BOOM— the orb exploded in a shower of light, momentarily blinding Samila, but otherwise leaving everyone unharmed. Her concentration on the other two orbs had slipped, and with a jolt of fear snapped her gaze onto the Paelens. It was lucky that they had to regain their wits as well, or they very well may have gotten the other two orbs off. As it was, they were just preparing to fire them, gathering more power with a few more moments of focus.

Malinace and the others were still stuck on the Laelites with the shields, who had somehow managed to slip back and form up again. They’d get through, but not fast enough. They couldn’t fly over head without getting run through— they were watching for that— and the huge shields made it a task to break through the traditional way. Samila had to act.  

The Laelites were on the lookout for her allies trying to get over their shields, but she’d wager that they weren’t so concerned about her, they were too busy trying to protect themselves.

That was it then. Samila snatched up her spear and mustered her Spirit. She bounded forward and spread her wings as best she could in the hall, then leapt high as the ceiling would allow. She channeled her spirit into her wings and shot like an arrow over the Laelites. Her foot got caught on something—a wing maybe— and her head scraped the ceiling. She let out a little yelp and rolled with small grace to the floor, Spear clattering next to her.

She rolled to her feet and snatched her spear. She stood just a few paces from the flabbergasted Paelens. It had hardly been the heroic sally she had had hoped for, but here she was. In a three on one, her surprise was all she had. She slid her hands down her spear and thrust, keeping her distance. The Paelen in the middle was disappointed to discover steel piercing him just below the sternum, he stumbled back, using Spirit to repair the wound.. The orbs of the Rolling Whirlwind sputtered and vanished. That was good, but now she had to concern herself with the two Paelens, both of which had drawn short swords. 

The one on the right conjured a swirling Blast of blue Will. Samila barely brought up her Guard across her chest, so instead of being torn in half, she was simply thrown hard onto her rear end. She fumbled her own short blade out of its sheath and clumsily parried a slash from the leftmost Paelen, who now was more like the in-her-face Paelen. He followed up with a little chop of his palm, which unleashed a small wave of force. Samila sidestepped and slid to the right of his guard, cutting two fingers from his hand with a deft flick of her blade. He dropped his blade and she tried to skewer him in his flank, but he Guarded and her sword scraped harmlessly off.  She channeled her Will around her free hand, forming a spiralling drill of energy, and delivered a vicious hook right into his forehead. He Guarded that too, but it was hastily formed and after a moment it shattered. The orange spiral rended into his face, spraying a torrent of bloodmist and leaving no face at all behind. 

She was about to feel satisfied with herself, but then that ruined pulp of a face registered, and her gorge rose. She retched just in time to see the last Paelen’s blade arcing towards her. She Guarded her forearm and deflected the swing—feelt her Spirit quaver—but the Paelen released his sword and tackled her, straddling her and producing a dagger from his belt. He had enhanced his strength with Spirit, and took hold of her neck and slammed her head painfully to the floor. He had her pinned fast, her wings painfully splayed, and brought down the dagger overhand, again and again and again, she twitched her head away from one strike and Guarded two more. Enhancing her own strength, she bucked and struggled roll him to his back, but it wasn’t so easy with the snarling Angel trying to ram his blade into her face, his own wings lowered to the floor to help anchor him. The next strike shattered the Guard on her face and ripped a large gash into her cheek. She screamed and screwed her eyes shut as he raised the blade again. 

Suddenly, something smacked into her face and metal clattered to the ground. A weight fell listlessly onto her and a warm steam sprayed across her. She opened her eyes to see Rolinel standing over her as he tugged a spear from the Paelens neck, who was now draped across her, dead. She rolled the Angel off of her and accepted Rolnel’s proffered hand with a grateful nod. She took a moment to heal the wound on her cheek, just enough to stop the bloodmist flowing, she needed to conserve her Spirit, the fight with the Paelens had left her drained. She glanced back down the corridor, Bloodmist hanging in the air around the dead Laelites. She sucked in a breath, took a moment to gather herself, and joined the others.

They faced a simple door to an officer’s quarters: The personal quarters of High Captain Ornael. With a small effort of Will, Malinace burned through the lock, and they burst inside.