Garden Of The Abyss

"...What do I do?"

Charlotte muttered this to herself repeatedly as she hesitantly ran the skin of her pale, soft fingers across the smooth form of the ball of darkness.

It was as large as a boulder, though upon touching it, the integrity of its form felt almost weightless, as if it was simply a gathering of shadows. Attempting to use a purifying spell, "Nodens: Proper Flowing River!".

Clear, purified water of a magical origin sprouted from before her extended hands, wrapping itself around the spherical shape of the enigmatic ball of gloomy energy.

"...Huh?"

Suddenly, her amethyst eyes as sweet as dessert looked up to see the curtain that encompassed the entirety of the valley place itself down, anchoring into the world before everything suddenly shifted--the bountiful nature around her dying instantly.

...What is this feeling? It got so...cold, so fast. It feels like there are eyes all over me--what's going on? Charlotte thought.

The fear was nearly enough to paralyze her, fervently shaking her head as she reeled her resolve back in while focusing on the discerning spell around the orb.

In essence, the spell was simple; its natural, purifying nature was enough to dissolve malevolent spells--the antithesis of benevolent spells like Proper Flowing River. By swallowing the width of the black sphere in the gentle, pure waters, its form was challenged.

Even so, the quality and refinement of her magic was multitudes lower than Avdima's--that much was felt as she fought against the integrity of the imprisoning spell.

It's like trying to chip away at the towering gates of Mastorn with a wooden spoon...How is it so dense? She thought.

Pushing her attention to this task, she realized too late that she wasn't alone in the discarded field within the war-torn forest. A sickening growl mixed with childlike laughter met her ears--forcing her to swiftly turn her head as her vermillion curtains followed.

"Gyah-ha-ha!"

It stood upon one of the rotten trees, its scabbed, obsidian talons wrapped around the branches that resembled limbs.

Though most of its body held a humanoid shape, its arms, if they could be called that, were made up of razor-sharp whips that hung at the sides of its sable and hole-filled body. It laughed through a maw that stretched so wide its jaw didn't seem to exist; exposing its dangerous teeth as plentiful as grass in a prairie.

Those unnatural, weaponized limbs it possessed lodged themselves into her focus; they swayed in the harrowing winds as it smiled wickedly.

"...What...what are you…?"

Seeing such a disturbed figure, Charlotte began to step backwards, keeping her eyes locked on the creature's form even though she wanted nothing more than to tuck herself into a ball.

"Gah!"

It seemed pleased with her frightful reaction as it chuckled with its distorted voice, hopping down from its spot amongst the deathly trees, standing upright with a height that dwarfed hers by at least two times--hunched over with its slim, but muscular body.

With its brought closer to her, dragging its chain-whip limbs behind it, the creature's form became clearer--exhibiting stripes of crimson along its unnatural body filled with see-through holes that would spell death for any normal organism.

Though its feet resembled the talons of a mighty avian, its legs bore a curved shape like a wild stallion, giving it veiny, muscular legs that stood out compared to its relatively thin upper body.

"Stay...away…"

Charlotte shook her head as tears lined her eyes, keeping her hands tucked against her heated chest as cobalt, acidic saliva dripped from the fiend's salivating maw, raining down upon the dried up soil below. Such words only fueled its wicked avarice for blood as its chilling giggles continued, settling its swirling, crimson eyes on the small girl--locking its star-like, blackened pupils on her as it reared its array of bladed whips back.

"No…!"

Though she raised her hands in an attempt to rebut this attack with a spell of her own making, she tripped over a small pebble protruding from the soil, landing on her rear as she watched the fiend grow closer.

I...I can't move...just staring at it is tightening my chest--my head is on fire, swaying...I can't, Charlotte thought.

With a violent toss backward, its tri-whip limbs seemed to extend greatly, swatting at the trees far behind them and eviscerating them with ease before pulling with a swing of its body to bring these malevolent edges towards the girl.

I tried, but I still couldn't...be strong. I'm still just a frightened child! I'm useless! Weak! I'm pathetic...this is how...this is how I die! She shut her eyes.

"Perish, fiend."

It was a man's voice; one that took Charlotte from the holds of such fear momentarily as she watched a blur come into view before that same, untraceable swiftness lodged itself into the bumpy, spike-covered forehead of the sable-skinned entity.

"Strife?!"

"Apologies, Miss…Charlotte."

Standing a few strides behind her was the heart-relieving sight of the silver, pristine locks of the elven archer. That somber cloak that covered his just as dark, gloomy uniform was somehow a sight as bright as the warm grace of the morning star.

"What's going on…?!"

Charlotte was quick to her feet while the fiend was standing dormant with its head reared back, having the ivory arrow lodged deep into its brain matter. Making her way to the side of the golden-eyed elf, her question was met with a worrying look in the eyes of Strife.please visit

"I've only heard of it through rumors and hearsay, but there's no mistaking it; this is the ability of Avdima."

"His ability?"

"That's right--to be perfectly honest, nobody has any concrete information on it--anyone that has seen it has died--without exception."

This revelation from the truthful, blunt lips of the hooded elf conjured a gulp from the girl as her bottom lip quivered; feeling the gnawing chill of the harrowing domain settle deeper into her body.

"That's right!...Donatien is trapped in that!"

Remembering the task entrusted to her, Charlotte's words were guided by the finger she used to point the man's eyes to the unmissable abyssal sphere that inhabited the center of the lifeless field.

"...Hm. I see. Can you handle it, Charlotte?"

"I think so…"

Though her answer didn't seem to please the man, who kept his radiant, gilded irises locked on the girl as she kept her hands close to the soft fabric of her nightgown. The elusive, haunting airs brushed past her attire meant for times of rest, not combat, feeling the coldness of the wind wrap around her gently as she made her decision.

"I can!"

"Good to hear; I'll cover you then with my utmost, Charlotte."

Strife gave her a closed-eye smile as he reached his sable glove-covered hand to the quiver on his back--a perplexing action in that moment as she presumed they were in the clear.

"Cover…?"

Thinking the enemy had been defeated, Charlotte bridged the action of Strife retrieving another arrow to the return of the fiend's movements as it convulsed and chuckled, letting its head drop back down with the arrow still piercing its crown.

"It seems our guest here is quite a tenacious one. Go!"

Clearing Charlotte's path by sending a high-powered arrow coated in an aura of gyrating wind against the chest of the ferocious, laughing fiend as it was sent backwards, Strife's yell was enough to get the girl's trembling legs moving with fervor.

"You're facing me, vile one."

Strife's words, though quiet, incited the murderous eyes that possessed no lids of the creature as it contorted its body, spilling out its toxic saliva as it laughed with a bubbling echo.

Without any hesitation to its hungering malice, the towering beast sprinted forward with its bladed arms trailing behind it--leaping towards Strife with its razor-sharp maw parted wide with its eyes set right on the elf's jugular.

0.01 seconds; that's the time required for Strife to reach into his quiver, retrieve one of his magically-enchanted arrows, raise his sable and sapphire bow, then draw the projectile along the radiant string. It's a feat acquired by well over a decade of grueling training and experience, but also one born of unrivaled talent.

To the fiend's eyes, it likely witnessed Strife go from a still position to holding the ivory, sharp arrow along the string before finding that same arrow shot against it.

Even with such swiftness, his perfect form was not lost nor was any power; once again, the unnatural entity found itself flung back by the force of the arrow, landing harshly against the ground as it quickly shot itself back up with only its legs.

Troublesome. It seems to be quite the resilient beast, he thought.

The very tip of the arrow managed to pierce the first layer of the sable villain's skin, but no deeper than that, being flung from its form by a flex of the creature's body.

Hanging its head to the side, the spiky-headed entity let out its distorted laugh as its long, slimy tongue slid from its maw, swaying side to side in its cobalt, repugnant glory.

"A bit confident, are we?"

Holding his hand free of his bow in front of him, Strife narrowed his eyes at the challenging laugh of the foe before him, manifesting something above the palm of his hand as a verdant wind gathered, gyrating and pulsating as an object formed.

ραпdα nᴏνɐ| сom "Let's see how you handle a real attack."

Finishing its formation from nothingness, a lengthy arrow with a different thickness to the normal, needle-thin projectiles was strung along his bow. Grooves spiraled around its mossy and metallic form, looking as if it were a treasure found within the depths of a grove.

"Grah--?"

Finishing its mocking howls of laughter, the creature's full-view eyes, bloodshot and without veils, spun a bit before it leaned forward as if enamored by what he saw from the elf.

"You are no doubt born of depravity; a creature with no holds to the beauties or grace of the world. As such...I believe an arrow slicked with the benevolent magic of the druid's should do."

This time, drawing the arrow along the mystical, glowing string brought on an aura of natural verdancy; a glance into the bountiful, refreshing domain of a proper forest--an existence seemingly unwelcome to this twisted, reverse world as the fiend suddenly unleashed a roar that vibrated the surrounding space.

"Come then, fiend.. I won't miss."

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