Page 54 of The Oracle of Dusk

Spitting blood from his mouth, Theron jogged to grab his spear and shield. He would teach that especially foul beast just who it was fucking with. He’d almost made it back to his warriors when he heard the shriek of monstrosities. They were close. Too close. Blood turned to ice in his veins.

Theron was surrounded.

His foe had followed him, slithering through the shadows under the Colonnades and breaking over the edges of the pass like a wave. His soldiers were now split, half facing the advancing monstrosities from the mountains, the rest turned around to fight the ones forming at their backs. The archers above him peppered the monstrosities around him, thinning the line enough for him to retreat. But that retreat brought him closer to the Viridian side of the Colonnades, where the Viridian soldiers and paladins hadn’t managed to bottleneck the beasts and were being slaughtered wholesale.

Was this where he died? Cut off from his soldiers, a lone spearman could only do so much. But not everyone could heal themselves as they were cut to ribbons. Eventually, his soldiers would work their way to him. Theron vowed to hold out until there was nothing in his veins but spite.

“Come at me, you ugly bastards!”

The monstrosities obliged, lunging at him. He managed to keep them at bay until one bubbled up from his shadow and clamped onto his leg with its jagged teeth. It shrieked as it died to the divine magic in his greaves, but the wound remained. Theron sealed his wounds as the next one closed in on him, evading his spear. Its claws dug into his thigh. He bashed it with his shield, dispelling it.

But in the split moment that he lost his braced position, the tide turned. The evil hands were back, dragging him from his feet. The beasts pounced on him then, ripping away his spear and the short sword attached to the belt at his hip. He used his shield to protect his head and chest, but the creatures savaged him. He fought against his own destruction, healing himself again and again, regrowing flayed skin, mending ripped tendons, piecing together shattered bones, replenishing blood. Beasts died moments after they came in contact with his armour, but every bite and blow dented and damaged the metal. Soon, they would tear it from him completely. Then it would be a race to see how fast he could regrow limbs.

Just as the next wave of horrors tore his greaves from his legs, a great light streaked above him, dissolving the monstrosities in an instant. Theron leapt to his feet, dizzy, and turned around. He spotted his spear and raced for it, lest the monstrosities recover. But when he got his bearings again, the monstrosities were mostly gone. In the distance, a young man with an enormous bow made of light aimed an array of arrows at his warriors. They had turned around to face the remaining hoard at the chokepoint. They wouldn’t see their attacker before he skewered their back line.

“No!” Theron screamed.

On instinct, he hurled his spear at the young man, piercing him through the leg just as he let his arrows fly.

The arrows ripped through his people to the monstrosities beyond, obliterating the creatures in the blink of an eye. He expected his people to fall to the magical missiles, but they remained standing, entirely unharmed. The same could not be said for the young man. Pinned and bleeding, teeth gritted in agony, he shot Theron a killing glare. His appearance was unremarkable—brown hair just long enough to be tied back, tanned skin, grey eyes, neither handsome nor ugly.

Behind him, the Viridian general cried out.

“The king of Aureum has attacked the avatar of Justice!”

Fuck.

Theron had long stayed his hand, fearing the wrath of the goddess for striking a high priestess. How much worse would his punishment be for attacking the embodiment of a goddess Herself? He rushed over to the young man, calling up his wild magic, praying he could make this right.

“My sincerest apologies. I thought you meant to attack my men.”

“I gathered that,” the young man growled.

“Will you allow me to assist and heal you?”

“That depends, is your healing magic as good as your aim?”

Theron grabbed the spear’s shaft.

“This won’t hurt.”

“I doubt that.”

Theron cut the threads that carried pain from the young man’s wound, pulling out the spear in one fluid motion. A heartbeat later, he healed the gaping wound, returning sensation the moment the operation was done. Goddess, he hoped he didn’t have more people to heal. Once the battle fervour faded, he was going to sleep for days.

The young man stood, shocked that he could do so. He held out his hand.

“Hyllus of Niveum, Avatar of Justice.”

“King Theron of Aureum.”

Theron gripped the young man’s forearm in greeting.

“I’d heard of your magic, but never thought to experience it myself,” Hyllus said.

“Likewise. Though I am sorry it was necessary.”

“As am I.”

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