The Prior's Tower

The man in the dark armor slowly rose, the sound of his movement grinding against the stillness of the room. He turned, his face obscured by the shadow of his helmet, but Elara could feel the malice radiating from him like a storm waiting to break. Her stomach twisted at the sight.

«Well, if it isn’t the Order of Dalida, rising their ugly heads», he smirked, his voice dripping with mockery. His armored fingers tapped the hilt of his sword as he stepped forward, casually, like a predator savoring the moment before the strike.

Elara’s grip tightened on her staff as she took a measured breath, steadying her nerves. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in around them as tension filled the space. She had fought Malachar’s forces before—dark knights, twisted sorcerers—but this one radiated a particular malevolence, a direct servant of the enemy himself.

«You don’t belong here», Elara claimed, her voice unwavering despite the dread curling in her chest.

The man tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes:

«It appears you don’t belong here anymore than I do», he gestured at the sign of long abandonment the temple had suffered. «The Order left two thousands years ago, now this place is anyone’s for the taking.. and we took it, so it’s ours now», he added after a moment of silence with a mocking grin on his face.

Rage flared in Elara’s veins, but she forced herself to remain calm. Anger would cloud her judgment, and she couldn’t afford that, not now. She had to think, to act with precision. Her mind raced as she recalled her last conversation with the prior.

«I’ll give you one chance», Elara said, her eyes locking onto his, «Surrender now, and I’ll grant you a merciful end». Nothing would have given her more pleasure than end the man’s life, but at that moment they needed information more than she needed revenge.

The man chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made her skin crawl:

«Mercy?», he drew his sword, its edge gleaming with dark magic, «I think I’ll enjoy this instead»

Before Elara could respond, the man lunged, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. She raised her staff and parried the hit with little effort although the force of the blow sent a jarring shock through her arm. The impact reverberated down to her bones, but she stood firm, her feet planted. Sparks flew as the metal clashed against the wood of the staff, the holy light of her weapon crackling against the dark energy of his.

The man yelled again, charging another strike, aiming to her left flank, but Elara lowered her staff in a round motion, an effortless counterattack. It was only a human, after all. Helped by the dark forces of Malachar, of course, but still only a human. Nothing compared to the Light of Dalida that shone directly through each member of the Order.

Another strike, then another, and another. Elara’s focus was deep, but that was also the reason why it couldn’t last too long. Elara fought with a calm focus, her training guiding her sword arm, but her opponent was relentless, his blows heavier with every swing. He wasn’t just a brute with a blade — he was skilled, cunning, and calculating, waiting for her to make a mistake.

Elara’s mind, however, was becoming weaker at each strike. He could read it in her grey face, her hairless eyebrows now crossed in an effort to keep her focus, her lips tied, her sharp teeth gritted as to the point of imploding into each other, her eyes two thin slits of thick red blood. Angels to some, demons to others, the earthly emissions of the Light of Dalida could never be mistaken as humans, their mere presence was enough to strike fear in the heart of people. Elara could sense the warrior’s heart beating faster and faster, but she could also see the man’s grin on his face. He knew he could win, if he resisted enough.

The confined space of the prior’s chamber gave little room to maneuver, and she knew she had to turn the tide quickly. With a quick pivot — and contrary to the rules of the Order — she forced him back with a series of rapid strikes, driving him toward the far wall. He parried each blow with ease, but she could see the flicker of frustration in his eyes.

Frustration and something else.

A mixture of fear and surprise. Malachar must have instructed his dogs on the Order’s Vow — never to strike to offense, but only for defense — and he was not expecting her to attack.

«Not so easy, is it?», she taunted him, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

He growled in response, and spitted on the floor before swinging his sword in a wide arc.

Elara closed her free hand in a claw-like fist. Hundreds of little flakes of amber energy spurred from nothing. But before she could charge, the soldier took a heavy book from the shelves behind him and throw it at her. The cleric waved her hand and the book change trajectory in mid-air, but that cost her to lose her focus on the energy embers, that faded away.

«Damn», she growled, focusing again. New orange and brown bright embers sparkled on her palm and she shoot the energy field towards the man but he was fast and managed to slip towards the door just as the ember busted the bookshelf behind him. He felt the counter-hit pressing against his back, pushing him forward towards Elara. She raised her staff in an attempt of blocking him but he was too close: he grabbed the staff with both hands and shoved her out of his way. Elara fell on her back, right against another tall wooden shelf, all the parchments, boxes and ancient trinkets crumbling over her.

A yell of rage left her lips, and with that a dark brown ball of energy gave off from the staff, bursting away all the debris. Elara pointed her staff perfectly vertically on the ground, and as pulled by an invisible force, she was able to go back on her feet. It didn’t take her more than two seconds, but Malachar’s soldier had vanished already. She reached the door and looked out, but all she could sense was residues of Malachar’s malevolent energy.

She yelled again, a long growl of both disdain and frustration, then clasped the staff on the ground and stood on the threshold, slowing simmering down until her eyes stopped glowing and she could feel calm again.

She looked down the stairs, remembering all the scouts they lost:

«I swear on the Light of Dalida, I will avenge you all»