Stormbringer

Hermes looked into the distance in the valley, hundreds and hundreds of thunderbirds with their riders rising majestically in the sky, with the storm behind them flying in flock to war. The thunder lulled them, and the wind blew in their favour preparing in conjunction with the sound of the violent raindrops to form the triad that would rise the war song that they were preparing to release on the flying triremes they were chasing. The Storm Riders offered their last greetings to heaven, knowing that when the song of the storm and the war ended less than half would see their beloved again and less than half of their thunder birds would return to the nests of the highest peaks of all Alcia. In front of the flying host, Lady Hawkwind stood with the largest and most majestic bird, guiding them all to death or dishonour. Hermes wondered how such a host could have come together, what force of causality would have brought them all together in the same place, giving the means for such a conjunction hundreds of years ago to culminate at that precise moment in the that she was no more than a simple witness of such an unfolding, such a combination of situations that could not be more than the machinations of forces that were far from her comprehension.
A day earlier, hundreds of riders gathered during the night, at the Talon Peak, to decide what to do. They all looked expectantly at their spiritual leader, Lady Hawkwind, hoping she would lead them to victory. She stood in front of all the warriors, using the same war equipment as them, a gambeson covered in a studded runic leather armour, with runes in ancient Farsi that reminded the claws of thunderbirds and the blows of the god of the easterly winds, Advaita. The same armours were exquisitely adorned with the feathers of old thunderbirds fallen in combat or killed by natural causes, not wasting their old allies, whom some riders appreciated more as a member of the family, to take them to battle always. The cloaks they had, also shaped by the celestial, violet and green feathers of the exotic thunder birds, undulated with the powerful winds of the region, even while they were not flying.
Lady Hawkwind, the spiritual guide of the Glauch, woman avatar of all its culture and greatest exponent of its characteristics, was observed by all present, hoping that in its infinite Glauch wisdom will solve the problem. She had an abundant white hair, milky and mysterious like the webs of a spider, the same armour as her fellow compatriots, inhumanly white skin, like paint or milk; like a ghost wearing ashes. Her eyes were grey like the clouds of a passing storm; and, in her black belt, rested the long sword Wielder of Storms, ancestral relic of her people, a black rune sword that hoots with the coming storms, with lightning falling on it when it is wielded singing the songs of war and storm, illuminating the ancient runes engraved on its blade. Unlike her, her companions used spears in combat, as well as copper javelins that filled the power of the storms. Those ritualistic spears were made with claws and beaks of past thunderbirds, along with rituals that Lady Hakwwind in her past incarnations performed to grant the power of the storms to their instruments of war. The electricity of thunderbirds was ablaze at the touch when wielded in combat, another instrument to offer support, to harmonise the war and storm song to come.
The riders of the storm were starting to feel tense, they had spent half an hour and their leader still did not say anything. They began to murmur comments that she preferred not to hear, preferring to focus on the sounds of the valley, the immensity of the night crashing against the torches that illuminated the meeting, the sky and the stars above their heads, and the storm that would form if not focussed her mettle.
-We march to war! - Simple words of encouragement that he said to calm the spirits, capturing the attention of the jaded warriors. – We Attack as one in the veil of the night. It will be harder for their archers and warlocks to stop us with arrows or witcheries if we flit quickly. We attack one ship at time, we must use our numerical advantage to destroy them one by one, slowly destroying the chain of command. - She got up from the rock she used as a seat, so that everyone could see her, everyone would know that she was just as wise as all those who preceded it. - We riddle the deck of the boats with javelins, to make sure that the archers have been killed we can board, fighting rider and mount at the same time to repel the enemy. Look for the warlocks and kill them, after that the whole structure will fall. Only once the whole ship ceases to be sustained by witchcraft is when we move on to the next, not before, not after. - They discussed the war plan before launching into battle, before rising to the sky with their thunder birds, because in the air you could not talk. The wind hijacked all the voices, leaving them completely silent. The voices interrupted the war and storm songs.
The warriors raised their weapons in a battle cry, finally having received what they expected. Orders to obey. Directions to follow. Lessons to learn. Songs to sing.
Hundreds and hundreds of storm riders embarked to battle, to intercept fifteen Edekhans galleys, elevated to the heavens by forbidden witchcrafts, escaping from their lands after looting temples and killing hundreds of innocent people in retribution for some forgotten struggle, territories de jure, ancestral rights that were not respected. After innocent blood was shed the riders decided to join the fight and pursue the bloodthirsty agents of the God-Emperor, bleed them and give back what they had done.
Lady Hakwwind felt comfortable in her saddle, as if she had been born to inhabit her, holding the reins of her thunder bird, which was four times larger than the others, with great confidence as she watched in the distance as fifteen galleys were driven by heretical enchantments through the heavens. Her Thunderbird was big enough to prey on a huge male elephant, it was as much a part of the Glauch culture as she was. And, at some point, they were one of the lot, they were both woman and thunder bird, until the correct events in the correct sequence dragged them to become something bigger than themselves, something more than the sum of its parts, in living avatars of a whole culture, a way of life, a way of dying and making love.
Some thunderbirds wisely held heavy stones in their claws, large enough to hold a minotaur's skull full, although this and holding bags full of stone on the sides made them slower to fly. Fundamental needs when making war. Lady Hawkwind raised the Wielder of Storms and with her will, the will of an entire people, changed the course of the hurricane winds, making it more difficult for the ships to navigate through the windstorms and easier for the riders to ride through the storm clouds. They spread their great wings in the middle of the electrical storm, in the middle of the millions of drops falling on the winged warriors like icy daggers that reminded them that they were still alive, even the heat of the battle had not begun, their great lady did not allow no lightning would cross near them, and the light that these, far on the horizon, provided, let them identify in silhouettes at a distance, like echoes of the past, where the prey was for those birds.
And, when the order was given, Lady Hakwind raised her rune sword, Wielder of Storms, and the blade was invaded by a celestial radiation and aura, the great war and storm song began.
As spears launched into the eyes, the horsemen descended, preparing for battle. The first flying barge driven by wind witchcraft was destroyed in a matter of minutes. The archers realized too late that the Storm riders had followed them from their homeland, and the stones thrown with force by the birds caused huge holes in the deck of the ship. The few defenders who went out to defend their ship were lanced by the riders, and their deaths were bad and soon.
Soon, the warriors boarded the trireme and entered it, encountering warriors from the four corners of the world, warrior-slaves brought by the Edekhans from all their colonies, from Pearl Archers, to looters and pirates of the island of Maan- Ann, all being led by their Edekhans masters, graceful race of the Granite Steps in the far north. An inhuman race that lives from the slavery of others, from the vilest witchcraft and the most putrid incest to keep their race pure and unsullied, feeding on the suffering of the other races and considering it to be entertainment of the highest culture, they employed warriors from different provinces of his vast empire as the first line to not spend their precious time confronting races that were below them all, causing interesting cultural and strategic interactions to have a huge variety of troops and ways to wage war. A spear created from the claws of a thunder bird that lived five hundred years ago pierced the heart of one of the sorcerers who kept the ship afloat, and then everything fell apart. The riders stormed the first ship with minimal casualties and retreated to the second.
The Great Lady of Storms did not participate in the first advance, limiting herself to throwing lightning bolts at some archers to prevent her companions from being crossed, as she was reserving herself for something else, something more powerful and problematic. When they killed the first wooden beast she rushed to the second ship, which already had warriors on the deck ready to defend themselves. This time they were not picturesque foreigners brought from a recondite and unpronounceable place, they were half Edekhans crossed with Glauchs like them, using recurved arches to prepare to launch darts against them. The only thing the Edekhans could trust in case they could not resolve in a situation was in their crossbred offspring, the closest thing to them in the world, the worthiest of being treated with a minimum of kindness. Lady Hawkwind whipped her Thunderbird with the reins, and quickly it took speed to the vicinity of the second ship, which the wind kept from running away at full speed with her other sister barges. This now would be an opportunity for the Great Lady to prove her worth, her brave spirit against the enemies of her people. Her eyes cleared the storm that was in them, revealing completely white orbs like the moon hidden among the storm clouds that she had summoned for battle. The arrows of the defenders, invisible because of their smallness in the blackness of the night, were deflected by windstorms convened by a sense of innate survival of their being. Soon, the storm around them intensified, as the hands of the Great Lady moved in ritualistic convulsions that recalled snakes moving through the clouds, invocations of ancient priests held in forgotten temples. The movements connected her with the universe, connected her with her ancestors, the Lady Hawkwind who preceded her and made her who she was, who throughout her eternity affected her present and marked her future. It could not be more in life than a Lady Hawkwind, she could only call storms and fly to battle when the time is right. And with that consciousness in her mind, with that confirmation of his own existence calling to powers that surpassed her own existence, she felt happy in her role. Like projectiles ten rays were thrown against the flying barge, as if the very gods from the heavens harped in reverse to the flying ships; the lightning flashes invoked by the Great Lady of the wind hit the ship and made it stagger. She could hear the cries of pain from the air elementals, subjected to slavery by the Edekhan sorceries, and she willing to release them threw even more lightning. The wood burned in an instant, singeing and disintegrating in seconds, making ashes as if they fed the pigmentation of its cause. The great wooden beast was hit innumerable times, throwing terrible sound waves to its inhabitants, destroying their eardrums and ruffling their skins, filling them with a terror to the elements almost unknown until now. The great beast was put to sleep forever after its hull was burned and made ashes by the lightning, revealing the vault where the sorcerers who kept afloat with their powers the ship were revealed. A violent windstorm sent them all out of the ship, falling to their deaths. The beast fell.
Another trireme destroyed, zero dead riders. The bravery of his compatriots could only increase after such a deployment.
Driven by his last victory, the entire herd launched itself against the next ship, ignoring the supply ship of materials despite being relatively unprotected, because if they had the bad luck to fail with their attack but destroyed that then they condemned the inhabitants of any province to suffer looting of Edekhans until they can return home. If they failed their mission, they preferred that at least they leave without the courage to return. Like piranhas they preyed on another war barge, throwing electrified stones and javelins against the defenders, who defended themselves as best they could, throwing darts with recurved bows and throwing stones with slings. When the deck was converted into an airstrip, many warriors were killed by the fierce resistance that ambushed them inside the structure, while stones and lightning were still thrown as weapons of war against the beast. Soon it would die, soon it would end, but the riders did not count on two boats to turn around and approach them to help their compatriots. Witchcraft were not only limited to air elementals, they later proved, fire elementals were victims of prison enchantments as well, and were used to make fire rain on the riders of the storm. Many found death due to the fire projectiles thrown by the triremes, being squeezed on both flanks by the two barges. It should not be a time to call the retreat, thought the Great Lady, for which she separated from her countrymen and decided to repeat the previous achievement with the other ship. She lacked concentration now, and because of the fireballs she could not reach it, so she decided to do everything personally.
She ascended as much as she could, even having difficulty breathing due to height, managing to stay higher than the boat chosen to assault, having to manoeuvre carefully in that three-dimensional environment. Was launched supported by windstorms directly to the bow of the ship, being received by fifteen or so archers, whose darts were still deflected by hurricane winds. Some, because of these same winds were thrown to the ground to irritate them and prevent them from being a greater momentary threat. The smartest tied themselves to the rails of the ship. Like a delicate feather, the young woman landed on the ship, being received by thirty warriors holding axes, swords, mace, spears, and exotic weapons she had never seen. Still not holding the Wielder of Storms. She breathed in her hands and the winds were manifested with powerful speed, throwing some to the ground and raising the less fortunate ones out of the ships. The bulkiest were kidnapped by their thunderbird and squeezed to death in their claws. Another charge of warriors was thrown at her, this time she raised her right fist and the storms manifested in her hands, being the only one able to bend them to her will, or bend to the will of the storms as if talking of the incarnated entity itselft, and from the pores of her skin lightning were displayed. Electricity ran through her body, like a wild animal climbing a tree in search of prey taking refuge in the cups. She extended her fist, releasing everything that it contained, and like an electric coil all the lightning flashes of the electric storm became manifest, like hands of ultra-tomb reaching all those present and piercing their hearts with inhuman precision, filling with pain all their Nervous system and closing their muscles. Giving an instant death to all, a death that only the embodied storm could give them. Those who did not die immediately afterwards would suffer a cardiac arrest, with the inside of their bodies cooked because of the lightning, their muscles in complete disarray.
She made her way through the bodies to the vault, containing the sorcerers reciting their forbidden enchantments. Their songs in forbidden tongues caused her a headache, she felt a mental connection with all the elementals to whom those words caused pain and madness, she felt a dark and ancient presence emanating from the interior of the room, so it would be imperative to enter quickly. Such a distraction earned her some hits, but her inhuman tissues withstood more punishment than those of mortal men, a mace to the stomach meant nothing to her, not even if a Breton gave it. The armour and its hardness took care of the rest, whereas she only needed to extend her fingers to throw miniature lightning of her fingers and blind the life of anyone who stood in front of her.
She made a hole in the massive iron door with her lightning bolts spreading out of her hands, big enough to sneak inside. Five warrior sorcerers received her, all five using a full plate armour, worthy of wealthy knights, offering few unprotected places to attack. Some when seeing the girl put their helmet, while others preferred to face her without that discomfort for their vision field, wielding their long swords with strangely long handles, which served as a catalyst for their witchcraft, having them been made from roots of stone pines. Seeing how the five approached her with swords emitting powerful flames thanks to their spells, she decided to draw the Wielder of Storms, deciding that it was the right time.
She drew the sword that foreshadowed storms and it began to hoot, to moan and whistle war songs, longing for blood and longing to taste meat. The celestial radiation was present when it collided with the encounter of a sorcerer's sword, sending an electric shock along the entire blade, passing through the blade of the opponent and moving to his armour, wrapping it completely. The sorcerer moaned and cried out in pain, kneeling on the floor as he felt all his muscles contract, falling defeated when seeing him vulnerable the Great Lady slid her sword through the visor with great speed. Blood gushed from inside the helmet, the sorcerer falling silent then. Without a rattle, without a scream of terror, only the silence of death.
The rest of his companions approached the Lady at the same time, raising their swords at the same time. She recognized their patterns and movements, her mind moving faster than all of them together. She was placed in position, ready and willing to respond to all aggressions. Without moving from her place she wielded her sword and with the speed of the lightning and the fury of the storm blocked all the thrusts sent, moving with the grace of the thunderbirds and responding so fast that the sorcerers could not identify the moment in which two of them lost the balance and fell to the ground and the other two were disarmed, being beaten in the gauntlets, then in the handle of the sword, forcing them to release it. As quick as lightning and holding on her shoulders the combat experience of all her predecessors, she was considered a goddess of war for her people. With a lightning strike she punished the sorcerer who had fallen before he could get up and counterattack, dying in a flash that blinded everyone in the room. The ship wobbled, rattled and began to move erratically. Two sorcerers of five had died, releasing a large part of the air elementals and making hard to hold the ship. Now it would begin to fall slowly. Everyone struggled to stay on their feet as the ship folded and tilted on its prow, with the Great Lady leaping and floating like a feather falling in the air, while the room and everything around her was thrown by the air, the sorcerers included, being suspended for a few seconds of weightlessness while the magnetic forces of the earth did their work. One of the wizards, a warrior hardened by a hundred campaigns, who had the experience of age to navigate the difficulties, raised his hands up to conjure even more elemental spectra and maintain the order of the ship. Lady Hawkwind threw herself at him, propelling herself by the same forces that kept her floating in the few weightless seconds they were all in, gliding directly against her rival, sword in hand, thrusting her rune sword straight into the right eye of the sorcerer, piercing him from side to side thanks to her projectile force and speed, managing to impale him against the wall and continuing to press to make the wall yield, destroying it completely and shattering the rest of the sorceress's skull, throwing blood and brains all over the body of the white woman.
The sailors and sorcerers began to scream when they saw their ship fall to the ground at full speed, with three dead sorcerers there was no longer enough strength to keep it in the air a bit, and everything began to go down. Objects that were not on the ground began to fly inside the ship. Swords, food boxes, kitchen utensils, ceramic bottles, everything flew like a projectile, bothering and hitting those who were trapped inside without giving them rest, while the forces that propelled the ship to the ground did not allow anyone to take refuge or a little bit in a bunk or on the roof. They were all condemned, except for the Great Lady. She began to push with the windstorms until the exit to prow, swimming through the air until her destination. That's when the torches that illuminated the interior of the ship went out.
And from the darkness came a stowaway who nobody had felt until it was too late. Something that the sorcerers only felt at the last moment, when they could not do anything about it because they were in the mists of despair that precede death. The whole interior of the ship had been captured by a blackish miasma that had spread from a depth and ignominious origin, with a darkness as thick as the walls of a castle. The crew's terror cries had increased in frequency. In fact, it was terror, not panic, as the buzzing of hundreds of insects got under the skin of everyone in the place, including Lady Hawkwind, with hundreds of blood-sucking mosquitoes manifesting from the ether. The sound seemed to echo throughout the compound, now as dark as the depths of the ocean, moving from one corner to the other with unparalleled speed, drowning the voices of the sailors from the windstorms as it moved and produced a muffled sound, while the screams diminished in the same way that the movements of a tired lover diminish. Little by little, moaning from exhaustion, until silence and nothingness took over everything.
The buzzing moved in the darkness, hundreds and hundreds of mosquitoes and other winged vermin floating amid the infinite blackness, as if it were another dimension, where there was neither up nor down, only the living and the dead, the prey and the predators. The buzzing now covered everything, as if for each victim it became stronger, beginning as a simple annoyance to drums of war that precipitated terror and agony. This was not the song she wanted. And then out of the darkness two stings, soaked in secret poisons against her, shot out. She knew that she was facing something supernatural, because naturally she could see in the darkness perfectly as in the day, but that dark mist prevented her from even knowing where she was. So, she could not dodge or block when two simple wasp stings were thrown at her as if they were projectiles. Her inhuman skin and tissues protected her for a few moments, making her insensitive to the pain that was precipitating. But then when the poison, as inhuman as her, began to get used to her body it began to operate properly, throwing her limbs into a deep pain, a heat so great that she felt the need to take off her clothes and drop an eternal rain on her body, while red-hot needles pierced every pore of her skin and her sweat burned like acid.
Feeling like she lost control of her body, she pushed herself for what she thought was "up," throwing herself with all the forces of the wind god where her instinct told her to. She hit wood, pushed it with her hands until it was destroyed, continued floating at high speed until she touched wood again, but this time heard the caw of her thunder bird and the wind blowing before the friction of the ship falling into space. Pushed once more to free herself, feeling the freedom of the wind crashing against her skin, the raindrops falling like spears against her body. She took refuge in the bow, balancing while from the same hole she had made to go out she watched as an abomination finally walked in the world of the living.
A hand held from the crunchy wood of the ship, a monstrous-looking hand, grey and green in colour, exuding rot and filth. Light browns adorned their dyes, while their composition was soft and rubbery to the naked eye, like a material never catalogued by the alchemists of universities, escaping any measurement or known logic. His deformed limbs drove him from the hole he had created to savouring the same air and water that Lady Hawkwind also enjoyed, revealing a monstrosity of the same height, with a width reminiscent of the pirates he had fed on. That abomination had an imprecise viscosity, with parts of his body being completely solid at the same time, constantly changing from solid states and what appeared to be liquids, with pustules of protoplasmic bubbles leaping from existence to nonexistence in their crust. The origin of the buzz became clear because this entity, moving, made it like a complete colony, like a hive mind that gave orders to the hundreds and hundreds of disgusting creatures of which it was formed. Mosquitoes, wasps, worms, centipedes, wood and branches, pieces of putrefied flesh and mummified remains preserved in saltpetre made up this entity, that abomination that should not live. A true dark presence of unknown origin. Had he been human before? Was he even alive and conscious? Or was it a force of anti-nature that moved by pure instinct?
The pain was still part of the Great Lady's body, as if she had been born with it. She could not get rid of it now and could only get used to it until hopefully the effect would pass. The being approached her, taking a few steps with hundreds of small legs of hundreds of insects that made it up. Lady draw her sword and decided to end this quickly. She charged against it, supported by her huge thunder bird, who accompanied her with cawing and flying near them, while the ship was still falling. The speed of the Lady was incomparable, as she ran left small sparks of lightning at her back, giving the illusion of being a lightning bolt in the storm. With a descending movement she launched herself at the abomination that was before her eyes, but in a second it disappeared in front of her, as if it had never been. She was stupefied, how could there be anything that could be faster than her?
Her bird swooped down on the Walking Worm, who was now in the bow, where she had been before. Threw his body against the beast to tear it with heels and beat it with wings, concentrating Prometheus in a single blow to defend his mistress. The massive bird was launched against what threatened its owner, but what it found was a cloud of insects disarming and arming themselves at convenience, with insects such as ticks and gadflies throwing themselves into the skin and plumage of the bird, injecting its venom. The bird gave a croak of pain, which the lady of the storms felt too deep in her skin, feeling that it would begin to fade shortly due to the conjunction of two powerful pains. Her body for now was enduring any kind of punishment, and she had not even been able to even hit her rival. Mosquitoes, ticks, horseflies, leeches, and other flesh eaters still climbed the plumage of the thunder bird, feeding on it and removing important pieces of meat to take to their master, devouring everything they could find. The bird took flight and tried to take them off by giving pirouettes and free falls, but nothing seemed to be effective. The lady of the storms followed them with her eyes, trying to throw lightning bolts at her own bird so that electricity would kill the insects, since the thunder birds had a natural resistance to the elements that gave them their name. The bird could not sit still, the pain was too great to maintain a moment of innocuous concentration and be struck by lightning. He passed near the ship and she throw herself on his back, driven by the forces of the wind. Hands rose from the layer of grime formed over her animal which were dominated by the Worm That Walk and tried to attack her. She quickly threw thrusts at the hundreds of insects, formed in colony, to harm him, the blade was ineffective against insects that were accommodating to receive the blow, but the electricity that lived on the sword murdered everyone it touched. She lost something, she earned something.
Weakened as she was, conjured the storms to throw lightning on all sides, leaving from her own body to meet the insects. Hundreds and hundreds of them were completely burned as if she was an insect lamp, a Tesla coil that moved with a will to win. She saw the Walking Worm slipping and gliding through the wind to the ship, coming out defeated. She threw a lightning bolt at him, then another, and another. The creature was wounded, walking looking for more dead sailors to feed on. She went on her quest, unable to escape an abomination of that calibre. Going back to jumping on the boat and chasing the beast. Before she could enter the boat, she sent another lightning bolt, but he turned around. Gave such a roar of terror, a call of denial that shook the structure in which they were. She felt as if a powerful sonic spear pierced her head, and felt her eyes close without her wanting it, as her ears hurt her and she began to see black spots in the view. The air around the beast tensed and released, bending like glass under pressure before breaking and releasing shock waves that sent the lightning away from him before it could touch him. The impacted wood caught fire.
Lady Hawkwind wiped off from her face the sweat, rain and lashed out with the beast again, launching a battle cry, part of her war storm and song, this time trapping the beast between her sword and the wall; breaking it with her body and speed, throwing both of them inside the ship, where they battled as best they could, throwing lightning all around, burning everything around, the wind sending everything to fly out of the boat and plummeting, while the being nailed his stings on the skin of the Lady and she, throwing electrified thrusts where more insects were still dying. Corpses flew out of the boat due to her, who preferred such things far from her, to prevent her rival from feeding and recovering energy. He released another mosquito that burst into acid all over her armour, beginning to crack it along with parts of her skin. Then another, and another, as if he were giving everything after knowing himself defeated. Her flesh burned red hot, and blood gushed from many parts of her body, increasing the anxiety of the predatory beast, who could not help but become delighted by the blood, divine blood at least. He wanted to sink his teeth into her body and devour her flesh and blood, feast on the holy creature of the Glauchs, make love in depraved ways to the Lady of the mountains, to the living culture of a village already forgotten for the inhabitants of the Edge of Time, the cursed and grey land where there is no time, neither the top nor the bottom, neither life nor death.
The bird of thunder threw his beak and claws against the ship, piercing the hull and trying to spear the creature, but this one took advantage of the matter and took one eye to him, feeding on the unexpected help. The bird gave a croak and flew away defeated. Lady Hawkwind cried out in pain, throwing herself to the ground as she felt a terrible pain in the same eye, as if someone were holding him with one hand and pressing behind her head. Screamed and shouted, crawling on the ground to look for her sword and put an end to the filthy beast. She still had her eye, but the sight had her dazed, seeing the sides of her vision black with fatigue, heavy eyelids and arms without energy to raise her sword. She thought herself as defeated as the beast she faced, but she had devoured the eye and blood of her faithful companion; he had recovered, while the woman was on the verge of collapse, with the poison still in her veins. She had one last idea before surrendering to apocalyptic powers. Her body was filled with electricity and static like a high voltage cable connected directly to her body. Knowing that her rival wanted to devour her flesh, she made a small cut in her arm, letting out more blood and calling more attention from him.
It had worked, the creature had laid its terrible gaze on her, placing all its insects to work to launch against her, leeches desperate for some meat. She jumped on it, both meeting at the same time. When the Walking Worm placed a hand on her, it began to disintegrate, as the ice melts when it hits a red-hot iron, escaping quickly as it could from the Lady, using unknown forces to reach speeds greater than she, greater than her reflexes that did not know where it had gone. The darkness again took over the interior of the ship, while she again received more stings with poison. She decided to throw all the fury of the wind against the ship, achieving an enormous adventure where she hoped to get enough wind in to clean the interior of that fearsome dark mist, but it remained in its place, as anchored to that room. She saw her eagle fly quickly to look for her, being struck by a fireball being thrown from a nearby trireme, feeling the warmth and pain of the fire on her back, but neither the bird nor her stopped. She approached to the broken border of the boat to try to jump on the back of her faithful mount, while she felt how her legs were shaking and her arms were weakening.
With terror she realized that her sword was not in her hands, it was somewhere in the darkness inside, throwing even more lightning blindly, hoping to strike something, screaming immersed in an uncontrollable anger at the same time. Her heart was breaking inside her chest, feeling a powerful hand beating her mercilessly, like a concrete wall hitting her directly. Her celestial flesh could not go on, but she continued, at least for a few moments, launching herself in search of her rune sword. Finding even more resistance in the darkness, while she felt with her hands the ground, attracting with the wind all the loose objects of the ground to her. After receiving more stings, she hit the sword, which began to shine like a lamp around her, revealing to be surrounded by the creature, partially regenerated by feeding on celestial blood. She knew that she would die at that moment, and she assumed it with dignity. She closed her eyes, and launched a final lightning bolt, crossing the roof of the barge and hitting herself in the process, greatly damaging the Walking Worm, who at the same moment was feeding on her uncontrollably. Both were expelled, ending at both ends of the interior of the ship. She closed her eyes, the woman once known as Keeleb Taarna. A tear escaped her eye, remembering who her beloved husband before was giving up all human title and becoming that divinity, to abandon the person she was and not be her anymore. After that, the ship crashed to the ground.