Jaedon was a large town caught between the rolling hills of the empire and the prairies of the Arboreal Plains. In the last few hours, we’d passed by several small farming communities, but all of them had been abandoned. Now, as we stood on the last major ridge of the Empire, the horde spread behind us, we could see Jaedon on the horizon.
The prairie was vast and endless, so flat it gave sight to the curvature of Enusia. Ripples of wind course along the tops of the long grasses like waves on the sea, traveling from one horizon to the other.
The town itself was tucked between two gentle swells of earth, a small river passing between them. Close to a thousand houses were lined up on streets in a grid pattern, with hundreds more homesteads dotting the farmland around it. The fields were touched by spring growth, the furrows of stilled earth looking like freshly combed hair.
Black Mist curled around the town, filling the street and alleys like fog in the dead of night. The land was drained of color, the soft greens and browns of the fields gray. A few patches of darkness riddled the landscape outside the town, spaced out more the farther they got from the town.
"Did Connor come here?" R’lissea asked in a horrified whisper.
I squinted at the black mist, struggling to identify the source of the mana. There wasn’t one.
"One of our scouts came across a farmhouse smothered in the stuff," Fyren said. "It was attacked by a few rotting corpses wearing the garb of farmers. The mist seems to come from the undead themselves."
"Does it affect demons?" I asked.
He shrugged. "The scout was unaffected, but there’s no way to know for sure."
"Let’s get a little closer, but stay out of the mist. Could you have Incinderus join us while Zephyriss leads the horde around it?" I asked.
Fyren blinked. "Are you certain? It would be faster just to travel through."
I nodded. "I’d like to study it a bit. From what I’ve seen and what Korra said, this Black Mist is spreading everywhere. If we’re not careful, there might not be any people left to save."
"It’s like a plague on life itself," R’lissea muttered.
Fyren hesitated a moment, glancing at the darkness hanging over the town. He sighed.
"Very well, I shall do as you ask."
He touched his temple, and a pulse of mana leaped through my mark, tingling like a spark of static electricity. I jumped slightly, rubbing my chest. Incinderus joined us barely a minute later, wading through the horde as it split around the ridge, circling the town.
The first farm corrupted by the Black Mist was a few miles from the low wall of the city, right off the main road. The demon scout, an evolved demon of the fourth level, waited for us. It was shaped like a horse-sized armadillo with spikes cutting from its shell.
Fable came to a stop a hundred feet from the nearest wisp of undead mana. I dismounted, walking a few steps closer, and summoned my staff.
"Dispel Magic," I called.
A burst of chaotic mana leaped from the star of my staff, lancing into a cloud of darkness. It left a hole of dissipating mana in its wake, but closed almost immediately. It had no more effect than waving a hand through steam above a pot of boiling water.
"Where’s the undead this is coming from?" I asked.
Fyren conveyed the question to the evolved demon. It trundled over to the small, one-story farmhouse with surprising speed and punched through the wall with a clawed hand. When it retrieved its hand, it gripped a squirming child no older than Sari had been when we first met. The child was decaying, with gray skin and gaping sores all over its body. A goulish sound escaped its throat, a desperate cry of anger.
Sure enough, the black mist emanated from the carcass, rolling off it in waves. It was hard to tell where the mana was coming from, as it didn’t share the same signature as the child’s corrupted soul. It almost seemed like it was drawn from the ambient mana in the air, corrupted and set loose like a fetid stench.
"It doesn’t seem directly harmful," I muttered, "More like...a byproduct. But how did it turn into an undead to begin with?"
"Look at the demon," R’lissea said.
The demon shuddered, dropping the child. It retreated a few steps, letting out a withered croak. It was hard to tell if that was anything like the normal sound it made, but it grated on me, setting my teeth on edge.
"The mist seems drawn to it. I can sense its life force getting weaker," R’lissea said.
I glanced at its soul, frowning. It seemed the same as far as I could tell. But the mist did seem to ebb toward it.
"What do you mean by life force?" I asked.
R’lissea shrugged. "I don’t know how to describe it, other than it’s a sort of aura around living creatures. It’s not dependent on how strong a creature is, but how healthy and, uh, alive it is."
"So a dragon and a human can have the same life force?"
She nodded. "Something like that. Things like undead and elementals
don’t have a life force at all. Except life elementals, but...they’re weird."
"How long until this demon loses its life force?" Fyren asked.
"Maybe twenty minutes? It’s hard to tell," R’lissea said.
"That’s not too long. Let’s wait and see what happens when it runs out," Fyren said.
"What? But what if the demon dies?" I ask.
He gave me a confused look. "So?"
I shrank under his gaze.
"It’s only a demon," he said, his voice softening.
"It doesn’t feel right. It’s on our side," I said.
"It’s not dying. It’s merely being sent back to the demon realm."
I balled my fists, tail lashing, but before I could come up with something more persuasive than my feelings, R’lissea gasped. The demon dropped, the luster leaving its eyes.
"It’s all gone. Like a leaky waterskin that’s finally dry," she said.
The demon’s soul flickered, growing dull and gray. The Black Mist seeped into its body, turning its skin sallow and eyes jet black. When the black mist reached its soul, its mana curdled, turning foul and tainted. It was similar to what happened to Divine Mana after a demon consumes it, only it reeked with the same stench as the black mist. The mark in its soul turned black, fading but not disappearing. I had never noticed this particular demon before, it was just one among tens of thousands, yet now I couldn’t feel any but it. It was sharp, bitter, and slimy, making my skin crawl and bile rise in my throat.
"It’s fully dead," R’lissea said.
"Yet it moves," Fyren muttered.
The armadillo-like demon rose with a shaky stutter, its legs moving like a string puppet. It turned toward us, eyes filled with hunger. It wasn’t the familiar lust for my soul in its gaze, but a base, carnal desire for flesh. I swallowed hard, trying not to throw up. Between the filth bleeding into my soul
I swallowed hard, trying not to throw up. The filthy taint in my soul got stronger as it approached. I could still feel its mind and impressions. It was hungry, very hungry. It could sense the warm blood and supple flesh in our bodies. In my body, specifically. I shied away from its gaze, half-hiding behind Fyren.
R’lissea took my hand, her warmth a shock amidst the vileness that seemed to smother me.
"You’re pale. Are you alright?" she asked.
"It’s hungry," I whimpered. "I-I don’t like it."
Fyren chuckled. "What was that you were saying earlier?"
I squeezed my eyes shut. "Please..."
"You wish me to destroy it, Oracle?" Incinderus asked.
The demon lord had been standing silently behind us, observing with an impassive expression. Now, he stepped forward, fire crackling around his claws.
I nodded my head fervently. Without the slightest preamble or chant, Incinderus waved his hand and launched a sixth-circle fire spell. It streamed forward in entwined helices of fire, combining into a single mote and detonating directly atop it. The undead demon shrieked as it was engulfed in fire, writhing and collapsing to the ground. The stench of scorched, rotted flesh filled the air.
When the inferno flickered away, the demon was little more than a charred hunk of flesh. The black mist lingered around it, but no longer advanced toward us.
"What do you wish to do with the dwelling?" Incinderus asked.
I took a long look at Jaedon, smothered in the black mist. My heart twisted in my chest.
"Is there any saving them?" I asked R’lissea, already knowing the answer.
She bit her lip, shaking her head.
"If we leave it unchecked, it’s likely to spread and infect more cities," Fyren said.
"Then...burn it out. It’s the only mercy we can give them," I said.
"If you would?" Fyren said, glancing at the Incinderus.
The demon lord strode forward, raising both hands high over his head. Eight magic circles blossomed over his head, spreading to fill the sky. The heat and fire mana emanating from the runes set the ground smoldering for hundreds of yards in all directions. It was a spell I’d never seen, but I couldn’t bring myself to watch, sheltering behind Fyren’s unshakable form.
"Lesser Hellfire," Incinderus said, completing the spell.
The magic circles sliced through the air like a knife, repositioning directly above the town. The mana within rioted, descending in torrents of infernal fire. The town was still a mile off, but the shockwave struck us with the force of a sixth-level spell. Ripples of orange and red heat chased after it, igniting the tops of the grass for another mile past us. The glow of the explosion lit the horizon like the coming dawn.
After a few seconds, Incinderus lowered his clawed hands. He turned, expressionless as always--like he hadn’t just obliterated a town with a few words.
"It’s done," he said. "We should return to our troops. The Descent is imminent."