Level 17 ~ Feanthar cont’d

Feanthar’s spirit had lightened slightly when he heard the small hopeful chime of his first step into the silver city. It was muffled like everything else within Letemra’s influence, but seemed defiant of the darkness around it and reminiscent of a more hopeful time. Feanthar had heard stories about the Silver Temple, but even in its dilapidated and abandoned state he never could have imagined its beauty. The entire city was inlaid with silver, the streets themselves paved in a musical sheet of the precious metal. The buildings and everything else were silvered too, though in poor repair and the damaged sections revealed that only a very thin outer layer of the buildings were actually silver. Each building was inlaid with a highly decorative and winding script that Feanthar imagined told the story of each building and maybe the city in general.

Then the terrible shrieks of demons rent through the silence, echoing off the silver of the city and finally shattering the muted veil that had been bearing down on them since they landed in Holt. The whole party reflexively fell into back-to-back positions and braced to receive the tide of evil. All peace was gone, all quiet, the vague apprehension having left the air to be replaced by a more insistent driving terror. The demons came from all directions at once, seeming to just appear from thin air. No longer did it feel like they were on Niar, even a desecrated portion of it… So set upon by evil and with nothing in view but hordes and further hordes of demons, it seemed as though they must have been drawn into the Abyss itself.

And yet through the din of battle and cacophony of demons, Feanthar could hear the echoing ring of the silver city seeming to fight back alongside them. He could hear Heaven’s Staff crying judgement.

“Heaven, grant us a miracle of divine wrath!” Feanthar called out strongly and brought his miracles to bear into the unholy mess pressing around them.

Not even Gyle had managed to summon a fraction of the demons they now faced, and yet Feanthar felt calm. He had an inner peace, a tranquil center from which he knew they would emerge victorious. The others seemed to have similar thoughts too. Sheya was methodically chaining her attacks to drop their enemies as efficiently as possible, and for now was making it look easy. Vixie hadn’t bothered shifting to her more powerful were-leopard form.

And Andrew. Andrew seemed to get stronger with every demon he destroyed, Banisher’s blade already blazing with the demonic energy still being processed by Oracle. Feanthar’s miracles were having strong effect, but he wouldn’t be able to keep up with Andrew if he wanted to have any strength left by the time they reached Letemra. Feanthar briefly wondered if there was a limit to how much demonic energy Oracle could contain, either over-all or in a given time period. Because if there wasn’t, Feanthar was pretty sure they were about to erase enough demons to actually alter the balance of good and evil in the multiverse.

Then he heard it… Something wonderful. Amazing. Something he’d never really heard before. At first he thought it was silence. Not like the muffled stifling of sound that they had been traveling through, but more a purity of sound so perfect that mortals simply couldn’t understand it. Then it sounded like a choir. Like the chorus of Heaven’s Staff that he always loved to listen to so much, but so much more… Then he realized the sound was coming from Heaven’s Staff… And from Oracle.

Feanthar laughed. He had become such a powerful miracle worker in the last few months that the most profound works of Heaven he had witnessed lately had all come through him. But the resonance between Heaven’s Staff and Oracle in the face of this overwhelming horde of evil reminded Feanthar that Heaven was far greater than he could possibly know. Bad news for enemies of Heaven.


One Response

  1. Chelsea says:

    I like how Feanthar’s expression looks exactly as you described it.

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