Chapter 50: The Raven Claims the Flame
Cardinal Tyrannus Holric was a man of order, an anchor in the storm, forged in the crucibles of dogma and doctrine, his resolve etched in gold and blood. For decades, he had led the faithful with unwavering zeal, a living testament to the divine order of Holy Verrenate. He had marched beneath sacred standards, cleansed heresies with fire and sword, and stood unflinching where others faltered. But now, that world, the one he knew, the one he trusted was coming apart like brittle scripture under flame.
The distant shimmer caught his eye first. Those faint divine shields, cast far at north, glimmered briefly in the moonlight. Elegant, disciplined, and unmistakable. He had seen this before, cast by war priests to bless and protect. But these were not his. These were not allies.
A cold twist formed in his gut.
In the span of a breath, they lit the darkness like cursed lanterns.
And then, the sky tore open.
Not arrows, nor javelins. No elegance in their arc. The heavens screamed as wave after wave of iron shards, long, jagged, unnaturally precise, cut through the night. They came in a brutal, horizontal line, hurled not by man but by something colder, calculating, and cruel.
The first volley landed with a sound that defied description.
Armor exploded outward like burst fruit. Shields fractured like porcelain. The front lines of his twelve legions collapsed within seconds. Men dropped without cries, decapitated or split clean through. Some convulsed, twitching on the blood slick ground. Others were bisected at the waist, their torsos spilling forward, still gripping their weapons.
"Form up! Shield wall! FORM UP!" Tyrannus roared, his voice a thunderclap in the chaos. His greatsword slammed into the earth, radiating a small pulse of stabilizing magic that fizzled before it could spread.
But order refused to bloom in the garden of death.
The next wave struck harder. Sharper. A helmet spun skyward like a tossed coin, a man’s head still inside. A warhorse screamed, rearing before collapsing, crushing three soldiers under its weight. Another paladin tried to rise, only to be pierced through his chest by a shard that embedded him into the dirt like a grotesque flag.