Anima Mea Tenebre

by Nixus

Return of the King

“My King, Do you hear that?”

Claudius Irontalon, first of his name, regent of the lands of the Griffon kingdom and its territories, looked up from the spot by his feet for the first time in days since he had been deposited like a sack of grain in the corner of his own dungeon. The feeling should have been humiliating, his ancestors would have cursed him for his ineptitude, but he was beyond feeling sorry himself. He had come to terms with his situation the moment his own people, controlled by some black magic from an outlander, had forcefully removed him.

He grimaced slightly at the thought, the mere thought made his blood boil. The cowardly magic weaver had played his hand well, banking on the shock to catch his guards unaware. Yet it would have mattered little even if they had been prepared, he would not have let any of his subjects come to harm. Though criticism had been thrown at him for many harsh decisions and laws he had made, Irontalon had never flinched. He held a love and respect for his people to a degree only matched by monarchs of Equestria. That was the sole reason he had hesitated to give the order to fight his own.

It was also that choice that had led to many more deaths. He could still remember the screams and sounds of battle from within his own city as a horde of insect-like beasts had descended on his people. Every single scream of pain had been a wound to his heart, and each became another reason he would not give in to despair.

Then there was his son, his one and only child. So quiet and reserved, Irontalon couldn't have helped but wonder how his child was. Was he safe in Equestria, gathering support and forces to march on Reiksadler? Or had he perished in the chaos, cut down before he had reached his ship? The king picked at the dirtied remains of his royal finery, a habit he had kept ever since he was a child. The purple fabric lined with gold thread had begun to fray at the edges with some parts showing worn holes that exposed his pepper coloured feathers that covered the corded muscle beneath them. It proved a good distraction for mere moments before he began to concern himself again . His son, for all his intellect, had never shown himself to be a warrior or a leader of troops. If he had been able to find any skill in those regards within the past few days, Irontalon would be thoroughly impressed with whoever managed to convince the boy.

“My king?” The griffon whispered quietly again. This time, Irontalon shot him a glare. While he may have lost his youthful appearance, the king was still had an intimidating presence that he prides himself on. It was one of the many ways he was able to get things done when the occasional noble thought themselves above their station.

“What is it?” He growled, his voice carrying through the large cell that held more than thirty of his court in it. Many hadn't heard the low thrum of their king's voice in days and turned their heads in shock to see their sovereign stand up to his natural towering height.

The griffon cowered slightly in front of him, taken back by the sudden presence the king emitted. Irontalon huffed in annoyance at the display. While he did respect his fellow race, he held onto their prejudice against any form of weakness. “Well boy, what is it?” He asked again, this time with more force.

“A noise, your majesty. It sounded like an explosion.”

Good, finally found his voice. Irontalon thought, glad he wouldn't have to repeat himself a third time. “An explosion?”

“Yes, your majesty. Just listen closely.” The griffon replied. Irontalon closed his eyes and stayed still as he listened for any hint of noise. Silence greeted him, but his slightly sharpened senses caught the feeling of dust falling from the ceiling and settling on the delicate feathers on his head. Then there was a sound, a low rumble he could barely hear that accompanied another small amount of dust falling from the ceiling.

“What do you think it is?” the griffon asked him. Irontalon grit his teeth slightly, his concentration was harder to maintain with the exhaustion and stress his time in the dungeon had placed on him. He waved his hand, calling for the griffin to be quiet. He slowly approached the wall and pressed the side of his head to the cup his hands formed against the wall.

At first, there was nothing, only a long pause punctuated by the slight noise of his breath and the beat of his heart. Stupid bird, there was no noise. It had just been a tremor, not an explosion. Irontalon was well acquainted with them, having dealt with the past costs and complaints. Being built on a fault line tended to result in sometimes frequent shaking of the earth.

As he began to pull away from the wall, there was another noise. Not a rumble or quake, but a small distinct noise that had like been able to travel through a hole in the ancient mortar that barely held the stones together. Despite how quiet it was, it was enough to draw him back, searching for the source. He followed the mortar till he came upon a small hole that allowed him to hear the noises on the other side.

The shuffle of feet caught his attention, coupled with the hushed whispers that he couldn't quite make out. He knew there was an adjacent cell to the one he was in now, but he hadn't recalled any of his people being placed in that section of the dungeon. Ravenn had made the Griffons under his control march their king through the dungeon last as a final act of humiliation. In that time, Irontalon had taken every chance to see where his people had been deposited.

He pressed his ear as a slight whine penetrated the air. It's high pitch made his headache, but his curiosity forced him to continue listening. Something was going on beyond this wall and he was unsure if he was going to enjoy finding out what it was. His patience however, had become incredibly short since his confinement. Now he was simply reaching his wits end.

“Whatever you're doing, hurry up with it!” He said, slamming his fist into the wall. He was fairly sure he heard something crack. Yet any pain his hand should have felt was blocked out as he noticed the growing warmth of the stones. He drew back his claw, clutching his now throbbing wrist as the stones took on an orange hue. The acrid smell of smoke punctuated the air as whatever was living on the wall cooked. Ancient mortar bubbled and leaked from the cracks of the walls, pouring over the side in a viscous slop. A few of the weakened stones gave way, sliding out as their foundation melted away.

He stepped back as more stones began to slide out and fall to the ground, stretching his arm outwards to silently tell the other griffons in the cell to keep back. His silent instruction was followed closely by his fellow captives who stood up and gathered near their king. Wings were stretched and hackles raised as they prepared for whatever it was on the other side of the wall.

Patiently, they waited with an impending sense of dread as the orange glow of hot stone subsided and was replaced with the sound of a blunt force smashing against the wall. Now without the support of the mortar holding the stones together, the stones gave way almost instantly with a cloud of smoke and dust being kicked up from the cells floor. The captured Griffons shielded their eyes as the cloud obscured the new hole in their cell.

To his surprise, a group of ponies emerged from the smoke, striding forward like colourful phantoms. It was led by a purple unicorn with a lavender starburst surrounded by three smaller white stars for a cutie mark. She regarded to Griffons with slight surprise until her eyes landed on Irontalon who was furiously trying recall why this particular unicorn seemed familiar. “King Irontalon?”

The question took him by surprise as did the surprising softness of her voice. He stood straight, attempting to regain some notion of regality before he addressed her. His voice, on the other hand, was slow off the start, coming out in a squawk that reminded him of the pre-pubescent child whose voice had begun to crack. “Yes?!”

“Father!” A familiar voice echoed in the cell before the unicorn had a chance to respond and before the griffon king was crushed in a powerful embrace.

*****

Twilight smiled as Irontalon returned his son’s embrace after his surprise had left him. He enveloped the younger Griffon with his powerful arms, squeezing him tightly. All around them, Frostfeather’s routine greeted or embraced faces they recognized, celebrating with quiet relief as they realized they had not been too late to save their friends.

The king separated from his son, regarding him with fatherly pride and a hint of curiosity as though he hardly recognized his boy. Twilight could hardly blame him after all that had happened. Frostfeather certainly carried himself differently than when she had first seen him. No doubt his own father could feel it as well just by glancing at his son.

“My son has grown into a man it seems,” he said quietly, looking at the disheveled state of his son. Frostfeather's gave an exhausted smile as he nodded slightly.

“I've brought help,” he replied before his mood fell. He ushered for Murkclaw who gave the prince a folded piece of paper which Frostfeather handed to his father. “But I lost a number of my own guards along the way. I've had a list of their names kept so I can inform their families.”

Irontalon regarded the names quietly. “I knew many of these griffons since they were young. All good soldiers and loyal to the core. You've learnt a hard lesson about leadership, my son,” he said, giving the list back to Frostfeather. “Remember this, sometimes we need to make decisions which will put others and ourselves in danger. Don't forget these sacrifices, learn from them and remember them always.” When his son nodded and collected the list Irontalon clapped him on the shoulder with an approving smile. “Now tell me about the assistance the Equestrians are giving? How many soldiers are they sending? A legion? Two perhaps? Or will their whole army come to our aid? Tartarus help that coward if the full might of our neighbours crashes on him! Those ponies may be small they’re a fierce lot.”

Twilight cringed as Frostfeather visibly paled in the face of his father’s overly optimistic view. Had he really been counting a speedy mobilization of their entire army? Twilight knew that the King had sole control of his forces, but Equestria’s system was different. The Princesses had made that much clear when they had told Frostfeather and sent Dante’s team instead.

“Their army isn't coming, father…” Frostfeather said dejectedly, his newfound confidence wavering and threatening to return him to his old indecisive self. Irontalon’s smile fell and despair soon wrote itself clearly along his face. “Their government is currently mobilizing as best they can, but they couldn't promise any immediate response. Both Princess Celestial and Princess Luna were regretful about it, but they sent a number of trusted and skilled warriors who aren't bound by Equestrian laws.”

“Mercenaries then?” Irontalon looked towards Twilight and her friends who had just started to climb through the hole in the wall.

“Then how many did you bring?”

“Ten in total, but one has gone missing…”

“No doubt they've run off knowing the hopelessness of the situation…” The King said dejectedly. “Perhaps I had put too much faith in our neighbours.”

Twilight was both thankful and worried for the Prince’s statement. While the image and respect Irontalon had of the Princesses had no doubt taken a blow, it would've been even worse had the number been reduced. On the other side, there was now going to be an expectation that Twilight and her friends were going to have placed on them. She had been operating in luck and magic up until this point, not any actual combat skill. She had never studied the Griffon monarchy, but knowing their propensity for martial skill and their large standing army she had no doubt Irontalon could tell the difference between an actual warrior and her.

Her fears almost came to a head as Irontalon seemed to inspect her and her friends, possibly noting the lack of any arms or armour. “Well who has Celestia sent me?” He asked, directing both the question and his steely gaze at Twilight. When Twilight hesitated, his frustration appeared to boil over. “None of you have ever seen combat, so what use are you?”

“That would be Twilight Sparkle you are talking to. The bearer of the Element of Magic and head of the Elements of Harmony, personal student of Princess Celestia,” Dante said as he, Moe, and Sam appeared out of the opening like spectres. His eyes seemed to glow in the dim light as he stared down the king. “I would give more respect to the ones who personally defeated both Nightmare Moon and the god of Chaos himself. If that does not please you, she and her companions have also managed to hold their own as we came into your city.”

The king seemed on edge as the three of them calmly descended the rubble, watching them with a wary eye and readied fists. Twilight gulped as the other griffons in the cell beside Frostfeather and his guards seemed to ready themselves for a fight.

“Father! Stop this!” Frostfeather interjected as he stood between Dante and his father. “These are our allies! They're here to assist us.”

“Are you so sure? They have the same stench as the one who reduced our capital to the state it is now! They could be cavorting with him, infiltrating the Equestrian monarchy!”

“That's a lie!” Twilight yelled as she stepped forward. Fury burned hot like a coal in her chest, the ember stoked by outrage.

“Twilight!” She heard Dante call her and felt his hand on her shoulder. There was a moment before the hot ember in her chest cooled, leaving her deflated. Dante didn't seem angered by her actions, but there was concern written on his face. “The King has every right to be suspicious. Just keep yourself calm, there's some spell affecting all of us right now, that includes the King. We can not afford to cause any issues.”

“Sorry…” Twilight replied as she backed off. Her outburst had not helped their cause any further. Instead, the King and his fellow prisoners looked even more on edge. If she had kept going a fight would have surely broken out in the cell. With the prisoners outnumbering them, it would have gone very poorly for their group.

“King Irontalon, I realize you and your people have suffered much, but we share the same enemy,” Dante said calmly. For added effect he placed his staff on the ground. “Celestia regrets that she could not send more aid, but the nature of Equestria's government is not as quick as your own. That being said, my friends and I do possess the skills to help you take back your city.”

Irontalon still stared at Dante uncertainly but it seemed that Dante’s move had the desired effect. Dante himself was still standing tall and facing the king, no hint of wavering showing itself.

“There's more to you than meets the eye isn't there?” Irontalon said with a slight hint of disdain. “I hate unknowns, but I have no choice. If my son and those guards made it this far with you, then perhaps the day is not lost. Do you have a plan?”

“Yes but first we will need to deal with the cell door.” He strode forward after picking his staff from the floor and stopped in front of the door. It's iron bars were thick, about the size of his wrist but Dante hovered his hand over the square block that housed the lock. It began to glow red, heating up as Dante’s magic coursed through its metal frame and softened the iron. He drew back after the metal had begun to glow a bright yellow and motioned for Twilight.

A blast of magic was all it took for the door to be forced open in a shower of sparks. The lock itself had disintegrated, leaving the door to swing open on shaky hinges. Moe and Sam wasted no time in crossing the threshold, ensuring the hallway was clear for them.

Dante turned back and motioned for everyone in the cell to leave. “Hurry and get everyone out of their cells. When that's done get out of the city, we’ll take care of Ravenn.”

“I’m coming with you,” Irontalon stated flatly. “This is my keep and I will be there when it's taken back.”

“Very well then,” Dante responded. “Prince Frostfeather, have a few of your men direct the escape. Please tell them to get out of the city and wait until tomorrow before coming near. If we are able to finish Ravenn earlier then I will signal that it is safe.”

The Prince looked at Dante strangely, obviously confused by his sudden choice to refer to him by title, but to any who had been with the pair until this point knew exactly what Dante was doing. It was a matter of respect, plain and simple. Griffons were a traditional sort and the royal family was at the height their society. Referring to one another on a first name basis would mean Dante considered himself their equal and he did not need another reason for the king to distrust him any further. There would be time to put things in order later, but now was time for them to deal with Ravenn.

“Understood, but I am also coming with you,” Frostfeather replied before turning to his men. “You heard him, free the civilians and leave the city. Murkclaw you are in charge of the effort, congratulations on your promotion.”

The young soldier saluted the Prince before barking orders and organizing those around him. Griffons filed out of the cell and the rhythmic sound of grunting and metal clashing on metal began as they worked on every cell door. No doubt the sheer amount of noise would attract some attention but Dante doubted they'd be able to stop hundreds of angered Griffons. All they needed to do was find the first exit and the escape would be well under way. It was dangerous and likely to result in some casualties, but there was no time for an alternate plan. The escape tunnels were ablaze and Ravenn would be alert to their presence. The final confrontation was happening soon whether or not they were ready.

“Dante! We found something!”

Sam’s voice practically boomed in the tunnels, loud and filled with dread. Whatever he had found it was not good. Inside his own mind, Dante had a profound sense of fear as he left the cell, leaving the King and Prince alone, and ran down the hallway with twilight and her friends on his trail.

*****

Magic hung in the air as nine pairs of eyes stared at the ruins of a small cell and the mangled corpses that littered the hallway in front of it. The front door of the cell was embedded in the opposite wall, blown off by enough brute force that it would've been impossible to remove it without tearing the wall down. Claw marks decorated the walls around it, highlighted by smears of gore that had dried and caked the wall.

It was a sight from hell and Dante could only imagine what kind of creature had done this. The claw marks were not those of any Shrieker, and Dante doubted any of them possessed the strength to tear through solid stone. The magic in the air and the faint smell of ash that hung in the air, combined with the destruction in front of him could have only come from one source.

The Demon was here…

“What did you find in the cell?” He asked, turning to Moe and Sam. Dread was plainly written on both their faces and Moe shook his head.

“There was a lot of blood and fur,” Moe said, voice holding back his emotion. There was fury and sadness in his words, but he was doing his best to hold back from lashing out. “Coppa was here… They tortured him…”

“Is he… in there?”

“No,” Sam replied quietly. “The body is gone. The amount of blood though... “ He looked down, but a sideward glance told Dante he was avoiding the anguished faces of the ponies. The three of them knew there was the possibility of losing a friend during a mission, but that knowledge did little to soothe the pain when it did actually happen. Coppa was their friend, the brash part of their group and the one who always acted as the foundation of their strength.

“Let me through,” Dante said. Both Moe and Sam parted and he stepped through the ruined doorway. Unlike the hallway the cell was not as damaged, but the stain of red on the ground and on the wall where the remains of what looked like melted chains bore testament to a different sort of violence. Droplets of hardened iron littered the floor and Dante attempted to pick one up. It resisted for a moment but with a quick blast of heat, gave way to his efforts.

Like the hallway, the metal teardrop reeked with concentrated magic. It's outer shell shined in the light of the torches that illuminated the hallway, only partially blemished and distorted by Dante's efforts. “Coppa, what did they do to you…” Dante whispered to himself as he let the droplet fall. His stomach tightened and he had to work against growing need to retch. He couldn't stay here any longer. He couldn't stomach another minute.

As he left, he noticed that both Irontalon and Frostfeather had joined the group. Frostfeather had a reserved look of curiosity about what was going on, but he was holding his tongue and thankfully so. One misspoken word would be devastating. Irontalon though seemed to understand, no doubt having lost a few friends in his lifetime to whatever dangers roamed the expanses of his kingdoms. He gave a solemn nod to Dante and held a claw over his heart, muttering something Dante couldn't hear before approaching.

“I'm sorry about your friend,” he whispered. “We will avenge him, I promise you that.”

“Thank you, your highness,” Dante replied quietly, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. His shoulders felt heavy, but a fire burnt in his heart. The rage he had been resisting from the demon’s influence he now accepted, allowing it to fuel him partially. He could sense that his friends were doing the same unconsciously as they stared at him with anger in their eyes. Even the ponies had a strange and almost enraged look to them. A primal urge began to swell within his mind, but he was able to keep it in check with one thought.

Ravenn I will destroy you.

“Let us go then,” Irontalon said, standing tall. “Ravenn will be in the throne hall. That arrogant bastard decided to place himself in my throne and rubbed the fact in my face. No doubt he’s up there now waiting for us.”

“Then why don't we show him how it feels to be deposed,” Moe said as he flexed his bow and checked his stock of arrows. “I'm going to put one right through him.”

“Good,” the King replied. “The exit for the dungeon is near an armory. We’ll stock up before we go to the throne room. We can also provide a big enough distraction for the others to escape.”

*****

The flight from the dungeon to the armory took only minutes and it took them even less time to raid the entirety of the large armory that outfitted the entirety of the keeps guards. What had been an ostentatiously large room, filled with rows upon rows of all types of weapons and ammunitions, now contained a scattered mess as Dante, the Griffon royalty, and the ponies rifled through it. Outside were the remains of a few Shriekers which had been unfortunate enough to be caught unaware by the group. They had been dispatched quickly and with enough noise to draw a few others which met a similar fate.

“Take whatever you need, we will not have a second chance,” Irontalon said. He now wore a set of plate armour that barely contained his muscular frame. At his waist was a broad-bladed longsword that glinted in the light and was accompanied by a short parrying dagger that he had picked from on of the racks.

Dante and his companions had followed suit, donning whatever pieces of armour they could find in favour of the superior protection that was offered over their own ruined items. Though there was little in common in terms of physical aspects between griffons, ponies, and humanoids, they were still able to find such pieces as bracers and greaves. Moe had even replenished his arrows, adjusting for the slightly different dimensions of the kingdoms ammunition.

Dante scanned the room as everyone made their final preparations and he spotted Twilight standing by the door, watching the halls for any movement. Sitting on a crate beside her was Sam who was busy tending to his blade, passing a whetstone over it to hone its edge. There wasn't really a need for it, but their schooling had drilled in the fact that if there was time to be idle then there was time to ensure a weapon was serviceable. Dante instinctively looked to the blade at his side and pulled it from its scabbard. Principal Feinman’s blade seemed to be in excellent condition and Dante had no doubt it could get the job done. He ran a fingertip along the keen edge with enough pressure to feel the blades sharpness.

Satisfied with his inspection, Dante twirled the sword with a twist of his wrist before sheathing it again. Though he enjoyed spell weaving, he knew there would be a need for blades soon. He was not as proficient as any warrior but he was skilled enough to know that there was more to a melee than simply “sticking your opponent with the pointy end” as Feinman had told him. Still, he wished he had spent more time practicing his postures.

I’ll need to commit more time to training when we return to Equestria. We need to keep ourselves ready, can't spend all our time interacting with the locals. He thought as he approached Sam and Twilight. The Felpier gave him an acknowledging nod before he gave his sword one last stroke with the whetstone. Dante returned the nod before taking the empty spot next to Twilight.

“Are you ready for this?” He asked her quietly while glancing back and eyeing everyone in the room. They were nearly finished with their respective tasks and soon they'd be facing their first major opponent. Truth be told, though he was determined to see the task completed, there was still the small knot of fear in his stomach.

“Sort of,” Twilight replied. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the ever present sign that she'd either run or freeze. Though there was always the small chance she’d stand and fight; the ponies always had a knack for surprising him. He couldn't help but think back to the first time he had gone on a mission.

Anyone who says they're not afraid before a fight is either a liar or stupid Feinman had told him when he had confided in his mentor.

“Dante?” Twilight’s voice had dropped to a whisper, alerting him and causing him to instinctively scan the otherwise empty halls. Nothing seemed out of order, though his guard was back up from its brief respite. He raised his brows to Twilight who was now resting her haunches on the stone floor. She didn't return or answer, but idly played with her hooves. He gave her a minute as everyone finished with their personal tasks and readied themselves. Twilight sighed and revealed her troubled state as she rose to her hooves. “Do you think we’ll be ok after all this?”

Dante, for the first time since he had landed in this kingdom, found himself lost for words. “I don't know, Twilight,” he said quietly. “It's never certain when it comes to fighting. Though I'm confident we can manage this without getting too banged up.”

“That's not what I meant…”

“What do you mean then?”

Twilight seemed to hesitate with her reply for just a fraction of a second. When she did open her mouth to explain, the rattle of armor and weapons stopped her. Dante looked back and was greeted by the entire group, armed and at the ready. He heard Twilight sigh, but she was already through the door before he could inquire further. The others followed behind her, filing out of the room quickly. He took a position in the rearguard alongside Moe.

The gothic style halls were massive as they carefully travelled deeper into the keep. Made from the very stone of the mountain, the halls measured almost twenty feet across and perhaps twice that on height and were completely covered by various pieces of art and tapestries depicting the kingdom in all its glory. Dante could assume from the dimensions that the size was to allow for both foot and air traffic. No doubt the extra room was to intimidate any visitors. Hundreds of servants and guards could travel through this hall, either flying or walking and probably never touch each other unless they intended to. If the Griffon's could carve a fortress from a mountain, what else were they capable of.

The only possible danger were the statues that lined the walkways in memory of the Griffon’s leaders and heroes. They were of various sizes, no doubt indicative of their life's achievements. Some were the size of a regular griffon while others were twice that. A wayward flap of the wings or misplaced attention would send them crashing into their raised weapons. A part of him wondered if there had been any cases of an accident. One statue’s spear looked as sharp as a real weapon, but it appeared so large that anything skewered by it would seem like a fly pierced by a dagger.

Turning from the statues, Dante kept a steady gaze as he searched for any signs of life. The first indicator came soon after had refocused his attention in the form of a few, mournful moans that stopped the whole group in its tracks. Ahead, standing in the hallway were three griffon, two adults, and a child. Their bodies swayed back and forth unsteadily and they made no move as the group came close.

Dante felt a chill make its way down his spine as the three made another series of low guttural moans. The sound of them was like the death throes of a mortally wounded animal. Their eyes were even worse, soft, soulless, and milky white. They looked blind, but Dante could feel their gaze upon him. It unsettled him to the point he had to turn away from their vacant stares before he lost all nerve.

“God, what has he done to my people,” Irontalon moaned as he approached the three. None of them moved even as he began to touch them with his claws. They simply stared out at the hallway, beaks open and slack as Irontalon let out a cry of anguish. “What has he done?!”

“This the product of the mind worms, Ravenn has complete control over them,” Dante answered. A supportive hand went out and gently touched the King's shoulder. “We will free them. I promise you that, but we need to keep moving.”

He examined the infected family, trying his best to not show any sign he was unsettled by their appearance. They watched him with their soulless, unblinking eyes and Dante grimaced slightly. The synapse that connected the Shriekers to Ravenn no doubt allowed him to see or sense what they saw. It was an educated guess, but it was the best he had. Ravenn was watching them, and Dante knew it.

“Come on then, Ravenn. Let's finish this,” he said with force. If, in the off chance he was mistaken, then one of two things was going to occur. The first was he would simply look like a fool and the three infected would do nothing, or they were going to attack. Dante sincerely hoped it would be the former that occurred in that case. Cutting down citizens down in front of their own King was not an idea Dante was to fond of.

He was caught by surprise as the trio stiffened and a hoarse ‘follow’ escaped their mouths. They turned and shambled quickly forward before ascending a giant staircase. As they disappeared from sight, Dante have a wave of his hand and the group moved forward cautiously. As they turned the corner to the stairwell, that was when we overcame them.

The stairway to the throne room was massive and well decorated with pennants and woven pieces that bore the personal sigils of each past King. They flapped and shifted, moving as the holes built into the roof of the citadel allowed for the smoke of the four brightly burning, chariot sized braziers to filter out with fresh air.

Between the braziers, holding thick chains that held the fire covered balls like flails aloft, were two massive stone colossai ascending the stairs. Both stood tall, towering over the stairway and peering down on visitors with stony scowls. Their wings shot up from behind them and formed the arches that supported the massive weight of the rock above them. The group, save for the griffon King and his son, stared in awe and took in the workmanship. The sheer amount of detail was ever present, from faded scratches on their armor to each individual feather whether it was perfect or not. They stood like perfect guardians, awaiting and judging all who passed through the gateway to the king’s throne.

Behind them was the gate itself. A massive door of iron studs and solid wood, it stood as tall as the hall itself. It was almost incomprehensible to Dante the size of the trees used in their construction and how thick they must have been. Pocked with arrow slits and man sized iron studs, the gate represented the ultimate testament to griffon stubbornness and resilience. Even if the enemy has taken the majority of the citadel, the throne room was another fortress built within it that they would struggle to take.

The sight was marred by the presence of a contingent of infected guards that stood at attention along the stairwell like a mocking welcoming procession. They did not sway like the three that had disappeared into thin air, but held themselves straight with their own white eyes locked forward and mouths shut. Around them scurried a small number of both Shrieker Warriors and workers. They crawled over the walls like spiders, chattering at the group as they proceeded up the stairs and eyeing them hungrily. Claws swiped at the air, mimicking some form of attempt to goad an attack.

“Don't provoke them,” Dante whispered just as one worker jumped from the shoulder of the colossus and screeched at them, gnashing its mandibles at a frightened Fluttershy. Sam stepped between them, hand on his sword and flashed a glare that sent the monster running back up the colossus. Fluttershy murmured a quiet word of thanks to him which Sam returned with a pleased smile.

The sound of chains rattling and metal grinding greeted them just as the ascended the last step. A large split appeared in the centre of the gate as it began to move inwards. With each passing moment, light filtered into the dark recesses of the throne room, revealing it to the world.

The throne room itself was much like the one back in Canterlot in construction. A double row of columns divided it into three sections, with the middle leading directly to the throne. Aesthetically, grey stone was used in place of white marble and the stained windows were replaced with clear glass that allowed the light of the setting sun to pour through, highlighting the destruction with its red hue.The wreckage of the night Ravenn took over had not moved since that fateful night. Scraps of clothing, damaged armor, weapons, and the spattered pools of blood covered the area. Broken and battered stone lay everywhere, making it seem as if the throne room had been sacked like the city below it. Yet all the valuables remained, scattered around the room, including the throne.

The throne itself was a solid piece of iron, carefully forged and beaten into the form of a highbacked chair with little decoration added to it. Wide and squat, it was an ugly thing covered by a number of exotic pelts and furs that acted as cushions. It was placed on a central dais made of black stone that raised it a few feet above the ground so that all eyes would be forced to look up to the leader of the Griffon empire.

The seat of the King had seen better days. Cracked and broken, the imposing form of the dais was damaged and seemed to be barely holding itself under the weight of the throne. There were scratches all over it, a combination of griffon and Shrieker claw marks that told Dante the king beside him had not been captured without a fight. The faint bloodstains surrounding it were too much for one or two of the monsters. Only the throne seemed untouched and unchanged. The only aberration it bore was the form of a lone elf who sat on it bent forward.

Ravenn’s appearance was almost like that of a corpse. His head hung forward, silver hair splayed out and covering his face. He barely moved, saved for the small shifts that accompanied his laboured breathing. He wore a simple set of pants, dirtied and ruined with tears along the legs. In contrast, colourful raiment of red and gold, no doubt the king’s, covered his shoulders but left his arms and a part of his bare chest exposed. Thin, greyish skin had grown taught, stretched over wasted and atrophying muscle, giving him an almost skeletal appearance.

“Careful,” Dante whispered as they crossed the threshold into the throne room. Eyes adjusting to the dim light, he scanned the room, trying to spot anything hiding in the shadows. His words fell on deaf ears as Irontalon strode past him and pointed his bald at Ravenn.

“I hope you've prayed to your gods and made your last confessions before you meet them,” he shouted. “My kingdom is no longer your plaything anymore!”

Ravenn shifted slightly as Irontalon’s voice settled. “So we finally meet again,” he said, his head rising. His eyes had gone bloodshot and looked half mad as his pupils darted around with every background noise. A thin trickle of hardening blood ran directly from his nose to his chin, lazily dripping on the green stone held around his neck by silver wire. He looked half mad, whether it was from the mental whiplash that had been inflicted on him or some other reason, Dante was unsure. Yet beneath that veil of insanity, there was still the hint of intelligence that came with his words. “Finally seeing members of my own world is such a welcome change of pace. Being the only individual capable of speaking loses its luster so quickly I found.”

Moe stood forward, arrow knocked but undrawn. “The pleasure is all yours, you piece of shit,” Moe said with surprising harshness. He had switched to the language of their world and his words resonated with shrill twinge to them. “I wouldn't get too comfortable sitting up there either.”

Ravenn frowned as he turned to Moe. “I would've hoped that a member of my own race would have had more couth and eloquence. I suppose that is too much to ask considering the company you keep,” without thinking he cracked one of his knuckles with his thumb. The popping made him pause and a thin smile played out on his lips. “Then again, I did manage to teach him a small amount of manners when addressing his superiors.”

Moe's hands tensed around his bow and the string had begun to bite into his fingertips as he began to pull at it. “What have you done to him…”

Ravenn cocked his head to the side and his necklace swayed as wide as his malicious smile. “It's as I said, your friend was loud, rude, and a complete ingrate. I gave him the gift of my medical expertise and he rebuked me to my face!” The summoner threw a hand in frustration while he began pace. “He said I was nothing but a ‘maniac’ and a ‘soft skinned prick who’s ego was a result of my…” Ravenn caught himself before he ended the sentence and coughed into his hand. “Regardless, I broke him out of that habit. He was much more respectful after I was finished. Though I suspect he’ll never be able to swing a weapon or even use a spoon ever again,” his smile returned and Ravenn licked his lips as he savoured his words. “Not after what I did to his fingers and hands.”

Dante’s swirled, mind filling with images he did not want to see. Around him, those who did not understand Ravenn stared in confusion then in horror as Moe and Sam begrudgingly gave them a watered down explanation. The concept of torture was foreign to them, but now they were being told what Ravenn had implied with his words. For some, the horror had turned to resolve and anger. Sam had raised his sword slightly, feet on the cusp of throwing him forward before Dante stopped him with a wave of his hand.

“Don't, he's trying to provoke us,” Dante said quietly. Sam slowly lowered the point of his blade and scowled. Moe had yet the loosen his grip on his bow and visible blue lines had begun to re-appear alongside his left arm and around his eyes. “Moe, stop. There's something not right. Put away your weapon,” when Moe made no movement, Dante’s voice went into a low growl. “Put it away, now. He wants you to attack him and when you do we are all dead.”

It was the truth, Ravenn was unguarded but they were not in a position to take advantage of that. If Moe scored a hit and it killed Ravenn, the monsters and mind worms would die with him. If he missed, or if Ravenn wasn't killed instantaneously, then they would be torn apart by the monsters and infected in the stairwell. Not counting Ravenn, they were outnumbered thirty to nine. They would be able to take on a few, maybe even find a slim chance to escape, but there was no way that they would all survive the skirmish if Moe failed his shot.

The bowstring slowly returned to its original position as Moe reluctantly agreed. “Fine…” he said. The look in Moe’s eyes told Dante he knew his leader was right but he was not happy about it. Dante breathed a sigh of relief at his friends acceptance, now his mind raced at how to deal with Ravenn.

The train of thought derailed almost as soon as Applejack stomped forward, eyes hardened and mouth set in a grim line. “Ah’m gonna give you to the count of five to bring mah friend back or yer gonna be feeling mah hooves going upside yer head!” She yelled, filling the room with her southern drawl. Ravenn stared at her incredulously just as she began counting down numbers. “Five!”

“My god, is that horse threatening me?” Ravenn said,his voice cracking as he began to laugh hysterically. The stone beneath Applejack’s foot cracked and she practically growled the word “four” while Ravenn collected himself. “I apologize but it's ridiculous to me. What exactly is she saying? I don't have a grip on the local language.”

“She said give us Coppa back or she's going to beat you within an inch of your life,” Moe retorted. “I wouldn't laugh either, given the chance, I'd make sure you went down screaming. So you may want to give her what she wants.”

Ravenn seemed to consider it before he frowned. A tense few seconds passed until he nodded his head. “Very well then,” he said before his eyes brightened with a malicious tint that reminded Dante of someone all too familiar. “I'll give him back to you all,” he added quietly before his lips curled. “It's as I said though, he and I had our differences and I resolved them through my own means. Then he graciously decided participate in one of my endeavours to make a more efficient warrior. Regardless however, I shall give you him.”

No… Dante thought as Ravenn’s grin cracked into a toothy white smile. Sadism radiated from it and Dante had to struggle to calm the dark feeling twisting his stomach. He had seen the same depravity radiate from another skeletal face before his town had burned. The same mocking gaze staring at him when the darkness overtook his mind and body. Chills wracked his body and his feet He then watched as Ravenn’s foot pushed something out from beside the throne.

It was a piece of heavy brown cloth, wrapped tightly and stained dark with wetness. With surprising deftness, Ravenn sent it flying across the room where it landed with a wet slap and began to roll towards Applejack. The added weight created by the sodden edges forced it to unravel. By the time it reached Applejack the contents were revealed to the world.

“Or at least a few pieces of him,” Ravenn announced as he began to laugh maniacally.

Dante had to hold back from vomiting as he stared at the package. A pair of canine ears and a tail, covered in bushy brown fur with reddish tinges at the tips that contrasted the dark ooze that had begun congeal at the bases. Before them all was pieces of Coppa’s body and the message none had wanted to believe was true.

Coppa is dead…

The realization swept through the entire team like a wave. Disbelief turned to sadness while tears appeared and welled in their eyes. A friend, a family member, the continued strength that supported them all was now gone. Pure fury swept through Dante and he ignored the acute pain in his shoulders were new growths would explode outward if he did not gain control. His emotions were in turmoil, but there was one other who had just been pushed after teetering on the edge.

Moe let out a practically inhuman scream that shocked Dante. The sound was human but punctuated by what sounded like broken crystal scratching against one annoy her. The sheer force actually shattered the surrounding glass and sent Ravenn back a few steps. With almost inhuman amount of speed he redrew the arrow and sent it flying towards Ravenn. It soared lazily in the air for a few moments before the point took Ravenn straight in the throat. The summoner looked down at the shaft of wood sticking out from his neck with almost a curious look of surprise before his legs began to give out, bring him down to one knee as he began to wheeze and gurgle.

Dante took the short second after he realized that Moe’s shot was not the instant kill they needed, but the elf’s own decision. He signalled Sam who sprinted forward before Dante unleashed his own spell. The resulting fireball slammed into Ravenn, sending him into the throne and bringing a half garbled scream from him as he desperately attempted to bat away the fire that caught in his hair. His weak efforts ended quickly as Sam launched himself forward and brought his sword down on Ravenn. The blade caught the elf between his neck and shoulder and sliced down, separating bone and tissue with ease before Sam pulled his sword away. The cut didn't bisect the summoner but Ravenn fell back, still gurgling as his eyes clouded over and blood pumped from the cut that stretched from his shoulder to his ribs.

Moe sank to his knees, breathing hard as sobs racked his body. Dante sighed and let his body relax as he watched Sam come back to the team. His grip loosened on his staff and he felt the drain of his magic start to ebb as the magical energies began to restore themselves. “It’s finally over…” He murmured to himself. He hadn't expected the window to present itself in such a way but he was relieved that it was over.

Turning he had expected to see the Griffons shaking their heads, minds free of the parasites within them, and the Shriekers in various states of shock before they ripped into one another. Instead, the Griffons still retained the milky eyes and rigidness of the infection. The monsters themselves were not in shock but moving toward the threshold of the door, chattering and hissing at the team, waiting to be unleashed. Confusion overtook Dante as he stepped backwards and his arm became covered by a weak flame.

“H-How?” He stammered while sweat beaded down the back of his neck. Ravenn was dead, his hypothesis should have worked in some capacity. The sounds of fear once again began to spread throughout the room as the others realized what was fundamentally wrong. Sam had pushed his way to the front, sword in hand and flanked by the two unicorns whose horns were alight. They looked at him with uncertainty, eyes pleading for some explanation that Dante would never be able to give. Had he been wrong? Was Ravenn the hive mind’s centre, or was there another?

The harsh gurgling noise that slightly resembles laughter erupted behind them and all eyes snapped back to the throne. Ravenn's chest expanded and contracted with each noise as he slowly sat up. The necklace around his neck rattled as the stone seemed to jump about on its own. The wound in his chest had begun to close, stopping the flow of blood from his body and turning the stream into a dribble as skin stitched itself together. The ruined face that had partially melted was now healed, new muscle and skin replacing the area that had burnt to the bone.

Ravenn wheezed as his hand came to the arrow in his throat. “D...did you r-really think that was the END?” He asked, managing to pull the broadheaded arrow from his body just as he ended his question. The resulting hole quickly disappeared and with it, the necklace ceased rattling. He regarded them with a piercing eye and a bemused smirk as he shrugged the ruined raiment from his shoulders. “You seemed confused, my friends. It must be overwhelming to think you were that close to victory.”

“How are you still standing?” Moe yelled, springing to his feet. The fury was gone from his eyes, and his steadfast composure had been replaced with an uncontrollable shaking that mirrors everyone else.

“I have harnessed the powers of old and gained knowledge of ancient and forgotten magic,” Ravenn announced with outstretched arms. His lank frame soon began to bulge as muscles expanded and knitted themselves together. By the time his body was finished its metamorphism, Ravenn had the look and muscle mass like that of an ogre. “Its power allows me to change the physical property of any biological organism, and I am able to repair any form of damage to my physical being whether it's lost extremities to my own internal organs.” The muscles soon shrank and Ravenn returned to his original lankness. “With this artifact I am functionally invincible!”

Dante wanted to shout in protest but the facts were stacked against him. He had just witnessed Ravenn come straight back from the dead after being shot, burned, and almost cut in half. Whether Ravenn's words were true or not Dante had no idea. The magic radiating from the necklace was overwhelming. It circled around Ravenn, mixing with his own magic which branched out like a spider web in all directions to those under his power. One stretched directly above Ravenn, leading into the shadowy recesses of the ceiling.

Ravenn seemed to notice Dante’s gaze and chuckled. “Ah yes, I almost forgot. Being a fellow spellweaver you deduced the nature of my connection to those under my control and the effect it has when one of them are killed,” He gave a snap of his fingers and the Shriekers outside began to chatter in a deafening cacophony. Large globules of spittle fell lazily from the dark recesses of the ceiling, splattering in large pools over the floor. There was the sound of bone grinding on stone, coupled with dust falling from the very rooftop as a shadowy form began to move down the wall. In the light of the torches two large bony spurs appeared as they slid down the wall, grinding against the stonework and slowly revealing the massive form connected to them.

Dante sucked in a breath as his entire body seized at the sight of the Shrieker Queen. Even at a glance he could tell there was something unnatural about it. Queens were often three times the size of a warrior, but this one had to be at least triple that. Crystal grew on any edge Dante could see, and there were open sores all over its body that mirrored that of Raven. It’s massive bulk took up the majority of the room, muscles twisting as the monster lowered itself onto the ground. Eight arachnid legs coiled as they finally touched the floor. Attached to them was a massive swollen abdomen and chest that boasted a set of powerful arms ending in two large three fingered claws. Each long curved nail matched the razor sharp rows of teeth that lined it's double set of mandibles.

It watched them with a number of hungry yellow eyes, jaws chattering before it became completely focused on Dante. Growths of crystal surrounding its crest and dotting the spikes that ran down its spine seemed to darken from their natural blue, becoming a dark red as it began the utter a high pitched whine. Ravenn shushed it, stepping forward and placing a hand on its greyish green hide and gave it an endearing look as he rubbed its exterior.

“Isn't she marvellous?” He asked. More saliva dripped from the Queens jaws as it kept its focus on the diablon in front of it. “It took me months to mould her egg, casting the necessary spells without the help of any outside source. With the artifacts help, what would've taken me years to complete took only minutes. She is now faster, stronger, and bigger than any of her contemporaries. No longer is she a Queen by any standard. No, she is an Empress worthy of fear and admiration; and she is mine.”

“You're insane…” Moe shouted back before he was silenced by Ravenn’s Empress snapping her head toward the elf. The crystals on her spine faded from red to a fiery yellow. The Shriekers behind them began to chatter again, scuttling to and from the doors threshold, barely restrained by the mental leashes Ravenn had placed on them.

“Your dwarf said the same thing,” Ravenn replied. “But that was before I tore his chest open.” The retort further silenced Moe who paled as his defiance was replaced with disgust. Ravenn moved on and returned to Dante. “You are the one I have issue with however. She and I both know you were the one to light the fire in the sewers. You killed my creations and her children.”

A snap of his fingers and the crystals and eyes of the Empress dimmed back to red. “She may be smart, but unfortunately she will never have a voice to speak the depths of her rage towards you. I on the other hand can,” he let his hand fall from the Shriekers bulk and raised his other hand with his first three fingers pressed against each other. “I can say to you for certain, Dante, that you cannot imagine how much she will enjoy listening to you die.”

The Empress launched itself forward just as Ravenn snapped his fingers one last time. Its speed was incredible, crossing the hall with both claws raised before they were brought down on the team. Dante skidded to the side, head on a swivel as he confirmed the others had escaped unharmed. He fired up another spell and threw his hand and staff outwards. Lightning crackled in an arc between them before it shot out and slammed into the monster’s carapace. The Empress seemed to stagger, but there was no grunt of pain or signal that the spell had any effect.

Dante’s eyes widened as the crystals on the Empresses back suddenly began to crackle with energy. Electricity arced between spines before the Shrieker Empress screamed and sent it towards him. With a quick roll, he dodged the attack and landed behind a pillar. The smell of ozone filled the air and Damte grit his teeth as he ceased the flow of magic.

With a quick glance he looked out from his cover. Moe, Twilight, and Rarity were firing at the creature while Sam and those without ranged measures had their weapons ready. Arrows and magic slammed into the monster, but bounced off harmlessly without leaving so much as a scratch. Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash flew around the Empress’ head, trying their best to distract it and make the focus on them so that Dante could reposition. They were given less than a cursory glance as a claw was raised and aimed at the pillar he was behind.

Dante ducked as the stone pillar was reduced to rubble by the claw. Pieces flew out and he twisted in midair to avoid being decapitated by a piece of stonework the size of his fist. It's only targeting me he thought as he landed and leaped to his feet. “Everyone!” He shouted as he dropped to avoid another swipe. He grunted as the air above nearly pulled him off the ground. “It’s only going for me. Fall back! We can't do anything right now!”

“What’ll you do?” He heard Rainbow Dash yell from above. “It'll tear you apart!”

“I'll figure it out, just g-” he was cut off as a sudden pressure knocked him off his feet and drove the air out of his lungs. Pain exploded in his side while stars danced in his visions. A faint scream registered in his ears, but the voice was jarred by the ringing that filled his mind.

Any breath that had remained after the Empress had knocked him skyward with her forearm left him as he collided with the ground. The taste of copper filled his mouth, blood mixing with spit as he gasped for air. With panicked eyes looked himself over before he noticed his arm had become dislocated. His mind willed himself to move, to stand up and run, but his body was slow to respond.

“Dante!” He heard Twilight scream as green claws slammed onto the ground on either side of him. His red eyes widened as the Empress looked at him hungrily. Globules of spittle dropped from the opened mandibles, leaving the conical teeth that would tear him to pieces glistening in the torch light. Before he could react or try to summon up the strength to cast a spell, the mutated Queen’s head was already descending towards him.

Dante slowly managed to close his eyes even as his impending death rocketed toward him. He would be consumed in front of his friends, ripped apart and ground between a monster's jaws. He had half expected the world to slow down in some sort of sick display where he could agonize over his last moments, but nothing of the sort came. Instead, there was a whistle and the loud sound of flesh tearing accompanied by the splatter of blood.

Opening one eye, he found himself covered in ichor that was not his own. Above him, the monstrous being had stopped, neck pinned together by the sharpened length of stone that had been one of the statues spears. Dante stared in amazement as the Empress let out a gurgle before attempting to move once again. In response, two more spears flew out from behind Dante and pierced the monster’s chest and sent it reeling back. The Empress let out a shrill, gurgling cry as it managed to stay upright. It's neck flexed and squirmed before the stone broke under the stress of the struggle.

From behind a cacophony of wails erupted, silencing Ravenn’s own cry of pain as he doubled over with his hands clutching his head. Warriors and workers screamed as they scurried and surrounded their mortally wounded mother. The Empress’ eyes had dimmed alongside the crystal ridges, fading as its last breaths rattled from her. On shaky legs, it weakly managed another two steps forward before a fourth and final stone weapon pierced the monster's heart with a spray of blood. With a gigantic sigh she collapsed to the side, crushing a few unlucky warriors to shocked to move out of the way.

A tense silence filled the air as every living soul stared at the Empress’ corpse in shock. The seemingly invincible monster had been slain in less than a minute, taken down after their own attacks had hardly scratched its hide. Dante himself struggled to process what had even happened, his own ragged breathing becoming strained as he managed to sit himself up. Ravenn was still on the ground, head in hands as the ravages of his magic wreaked havoc on the synapses in his mind and ensured he would be incapacitated for at least another few minutes.

With no obvious threat in sight, Dante slowly turned his head while his friends scrambled to his side. The back of his neck prickled as a menacing aura flowed from the stairwell into the throne room like a thick miasma. Magic and raw emotion radiated through the invisible cloud, an obvious sign of whatever demon Ravenn had summoned. The following steps and the steady breathing that reminded him of a bellowing forge only served to add to the fact. It grew with each passing second and Dante and his friends watched as the infected guards ran up the stairs and stopped to kneel in a line with their spears outwards. Despite the effects of the parasites in their brains, they shook like leaves as the bellowing breaths came close.

“So you weren't a complete failure after all,” Ravenn shouted. He had gotten back to his feet, blood seeping from his eyes and mouth. At his words the tense breathing stopped and the hallway went silent until there was there was an audible crack. Dante watched as a form soared up from the lower part of the giant stairwell and landed on the extended entranceway to the throne room. A cloud of heavy dust erupted from the floor as stone broke beneath the force of the impact, obscuring the being save for a pair of eyes and veins that glowed through the opaque screen. When the dust settled, The collective heart of the group, torn by the knowledge of their friend, was ripped apart even further as the dust settled.

Coppa was not dead, but what stood in his place and his body was not the friend they had shared their laughter, memories, and tears alongside. Instead, a twisted and perverted version now stood in front of them.

Coppa’s eyes now glowed and radiated with power that matched the colour of the veins that barely contained the sheer power stored within them. They crisscrossed over dense muscles that had been altered by the demonic energy to the point they strained against his furred skin. On his arms, the fur itself had turned an ashy shade of black that ended abruptly at his shoulders. Metal gauntlets had replaced his hands, ending in pointed claws heated to a glowing red. They appeared as though they had been put on their friend before being nailed in at the wrists. Those new additions matched the metal piece that had likewise replaced Coppa’s lower jaw, giving him a permanent look of a monster in the midst of snarling.

At the centre of it all, located and embedded in Coppa’s chest, surrounded by tensed muscles was a glowing red crystal that pulsed in a mocking display of a heartbeat. Uneven metal surrounded it, half hardened and half molten by the intense heat now originating within Coppa’s own body. Small droplets fell from the protruding piece, dripping onto the ground where they began to cool and solidify slightly. In Dante’s mind the droplets finally made sense, but where a single question had been answered, thousands more sprung to mind and were only slightly suppressed by the fear that screamed at him to run.

Coppa did not move and his eyes barely seemed to register the faces of his friends and allies. Instead they stared past them at Ravenn who met his gaze with equal parts of rage and disgust. The summoner raised his own hand and a pale energy surrounded it. Coppa remained standing even as a similar energy surrounded his head, but he refused to move an inch. A vein popped on his forehead before the magic faltered and extinguished. Ravenn huffed in exhaustion before he screamed.

“Kill him!”

The Warriors roared in response as their magical tethers commanded them to heed their master's word. While most clambered over the body of their matriarch, one had gained headway against the pack and jumped with its claws outstretched and teeth bared.

Coppa watched the warrior hurtle towards him with a passive eye before he caught the monster by the throat with one gauntleted hand. The creature gasped and struggled, taking the Dwarfs arm with its claws as his choked. Droplets of glowing metal welled from cut skin before Coppa turned the Shrieker and slammed its face into the ground. There was an audible crunch as the monster’s exoskeleton cracked, but it's continuing struggle revealed the life still within its body. That ended quickly as Coppa’s other hand grabbed its inspectors head and tore it from its body as easy as picking an apple from a branch.

While the fallen monster's kin faltered at the sight of their fallen brother, they continued with their charge as the infected griffons joined the rush. Coppa stood up, blood dripping from the head in his hand before he tossed it casually to the side. He raised both his now glowing and smoking hands as he readied himself, muscles tensing and mouth opening slightly as a bass filled roar shook the entirety of the keep.

In the next few seconds, the world was filled with nothing but the spray of red and the smell of hot copper.

Author's Note:

So firstly I want to apologise for the massive wait time between chapters. For reason's I won't go into, personal issues caused a huge strain that kept me from writing. I'm extremely sorry to have kept you guys on edge for so long and I should have updated sooner, but I didn't think of that. Also, thank you to everyone who favorited this story during this period. I can not thank you enough for the boost that red notification gives me as well as your comments.

Secondly, google docs kinda screwed me over by deleting this chapter twice. I have now learned the importance of backups.

Thirdly, god I love Gregor Clegane "SPOILERS"

Also a shout out to ZoaRenso for the art. You xan find his page here: http://zoarenso.deviantart.com/

Comments

[Adusk]

Nice chapter and drawing man. I look forward to more.