The thick mist was even more obvious closer up, clinging to the walls like a shadowy haze, tendrils reaching out before fading away in the light. What it would be like if the sun here dimmed, Stathis didn’t know – probably even worse. The clusters of undead seemed to tether it somehow, strands lying along the ground, connecting from the walls to the creatures. Mavrosa carefully stepped over a thick string, the stuff as inky-black as she was.

The gates were ahead of them, boarded shut, thick and blobby paint smeared across the wood in an uneven pattern. Even without occult training, Stathis could tell it was doing something, red marks gleaming with their own light, as she dismounted from Mavrosa.

‘Semari, try punching it.’

‘Ewww, no way! That’s, like, all gross and stuff. I’m not touching it.’

‘Vrintar?’

‘I think it might be wisest for you to tend to the task. The air seems heavy with danger, and you are the best warded against dark energies.’

Stathis took a deep breath, then drew her sword, taking a two-handed stance, and swinging for the door as strongly as she could. The air turned thick and gelid, magical energy resisting her attack, the blade repulsed in mid-air. When she poured her own energy and will into the blade, burning smoke started to drift out from the blade, golden light obscured by greasy shadows, as she cut forward.

The opposing force suddenly vanished, her blade slicing into the door. Wooden shrapnel propelled itself outwards with enough force to ricochet off her armour, leaving her sword embedded deeply into the wood. The magical symbol faded, paint still there, but now missing the shining lustre.

‘Well, go on, smack it again!’ Semari was keeping a safe distance, hands behind her head.

‘Damn thing’s stuck!’ It was wedged deeply into the wood, Stathis trying to pull on it, but she’d struck deep into the thick door, penetrating the wood. She put her foot against the door, straining to budge the blade, before managing to wrench it free, inspecting the edge for nicks. ‘This might take a while. Anyone got anything bigger? Hakara, Pajaran?’

Pajaran hefted her mace and chanted a quick prayer, steel-grey light shining around the weapon, before smashing it forward. It slammed into the wood, cracks appearing throughout it, the impact hard enough to make it rattle in place. Another strike, and the wood started to break, Stathis taking a step back to stay out of shrapnel range.

As Pajaran smashed her way through the door, Mavrosa whickered, hooves scratching on the ground before starting to fade away, her form turning vague and shadowy, then vanishing entirely.

‘Thanks, Janaxia.’

She nodded back – her hair-lash was throbbing a deep and satisfied red, her clothing still her attempt at a uniform. ‘Of course. Now I am a captain, then I should behave appropriately, should I not?’

‘Just remember no thrones! That could have gone a lot worse. Although you can keep the uniform. It suits you, and will help you blend in a bit.’

Janaxia shifted her shoulders, rank-marks shining. ‘It could do with a little more flair, but I will suffice, as long as it isn’t for too long. I much prefer skirts to trousers, although I suppose there are practical considerations when “in the field”, so to speak.’

‘Just remember you don’t actually know about military command, so leave that to other people!’

A dull sound echoed out, as Pajaran managed to break open a gap in the door, swinging her mace from side-to-side to widen the space. A thick, charnel scent roiled out, heavy with blood, Stathis trying to see inside – she could see a road, buildings on either side, but only a short distance in, before the darkness was too thick to see through.

‘Janaxia, you see anything? Too dark for me.’

She peered forward, squinting. ‘It looks as though there are some defenders. Do you want me to begin attacking?’

‘Let’s see if we can sneak through first. Let me know if you think there might be any active effects or spells. Or if whoever is at the centre of this all might be watching us, if there is someone in there.’

Janaxia sniffed the air herself then recoiled, wrinkling her noise. ‘It seems as though someone has been… busy. It would be best to be careful. And it is possible that we might be monitored. I suppose we should keep an eye out for more of those shapeshifters as well. They are certainly aggravating!’

Pajaran’s impacts didn’t seem to have triggered any response or counterattack. A blue mote of light flew away from Hakara, blinking out to nothing soon after entering the shadows, a crystal tinkling to the floor.

‘Ah. It seems as though the area is resistant to magic, or drains any power. This might make magical attacks less potent.’

‘OK. Hakara, Janaxia – be careful, as your attacks might be less powerful than you expect. Let’s go.’

As soon as Stathis stepped through the doorway, the temperature dropped, the air shaded and cool, her skin crawling. She heard the others make noises of dislike as they crossed the threshold as well, Semari the loudest.

The shadow-mist broiled around her, tendrils wafting around, slow and lazy. Aside from the thick shadows, it looked like a normal small town – wood-front buildings, a stone road probably leading to the market square, even a cart in place, filled with crates. But there was nothing moving except for a dimly-visible cluster of shambling undead, moving in small steps.

‘Parth, did you say there was an old ruin here? Where’s that, in the centre?’

Parth was virtually invisible, a thin twist of grey-green cloak moving through the shade, fading away as soon as she wasn’t directly in vision. ‘Yes. Mundanity around sacristy.’

‘So that’s where everything probably is. OK, let’s go – everyone, stay close, be careful and try and stay out of fights.’

She turned to check everyone was close together – Semari scampered up onto a rooftop, footfalls silent. Pajaran was close behind her, the glow of the spell on her weapon fading. Vrintar drew her axes, ready to fight, as a dull magical glow shimmered into being over Hakara – her powers weren’t completely nullified here then. The shadows around Janaxia seemed particularly intense, flows and eddies like a watery current, her eyes visible as emerald-green sparks despite the gloom. The ripples were even more intense around her hands, a mote of anti-light forming in one of her palms, darkness drinking in what little light there was.

‘And Janaxia? Let me know if you sense anything weird. This seems pretty related to your, uh, stuff. Let’s go!’

They set out, Stathis feeling very heavy and clanky in her armour, compared to the silent grace of Parth or Semari. As they approached the undead, she could see that they were zombies, relatively fresh, skin not yet dried to grey. They looked like locals, but their veins were inky black, each bearing a symbol on their forehead that made Stathis’ eyes throb to look at, making it hard to watch them for too long.

Serve. That’s what the symbol says. I can see they have been enhanced as well – those black lines will reinforce them against attacks, and likely increase their strength. But not, it seems, their awareness.

There were four of them, stood at the end of the road, where it opened up into the market square. But they weren’t moving in a useful way, just shifting in slow and shambolic orbits before returning to their starting points.

‘We go around!’ Hopefully everyone could hear her, or keep track of her movements, as she turned into an alleyway, following it along. A figure blocked the exit, staring blindly forward, Stathis looking back – it must have limited visual range?

Janaxia pushed past her, striding forward, the mist steaming around her horns, visibly flowing around her movements. As she neared the thing, it looked up, emitting a low growl, just before Janaxia reached out and pushed her hand against its forehead. It spasmed and tensed, growl turning to a quiet whimper. The black lines through its muscles started to pale, limbs going limp as the colour vanished, before it collapsed to the ground, body starting to turn to dust.

Janaxia turned around, flicking her hand to clean the dust off. Hmmm, I thought that might happen. A lot quieter than hacking them apart, I think?

‘Warn me next time? And do you feel OK?’

Quite well, actually. Particularly relieved not to have been executed or arrested, I must confess.

Stathis glanced behind herself, glad that Vrintar and Pajaran had taken a different path.

‘Yeah, me too. Although we will have to talk to her again.’

Well, given the circumstances, that’s scarcely a surprise. But I seem to have been accepted, which is significant, I feel! A slightly manic grin was covering Janaxia’s face, her lips redder than usual, mist broiling around her. I was expecting that to go rather less well. Although I do hope that this won’t stretch on for too long, I would prefer my own choices to the uniform.

‘Yeah, I think yours is, um, a little tighter on the hips and around the chest than the regulation one. Looks good on you.’ Stathis pushed close against Janaxia, peering around the wall – another shape shambled by in the distance, as the body beneath her dissolved into dust. A look of sudden consternation crossed Janaxia’s face, the smile vanishing.

‘You ok?’

Skotadi. She was with us for such a short period, but… sometimes it’s like I can still hear her voice. I only hope she is at rest.

‘Well, I think she probably had more fun with you than whatever she was doing before. So at least you gave her that. But let’s focus on getting through this first, then maybe you can make a grave for her or something.’

Janaxia tapped a knuckle against Stathis’ armour. And maybe you can wear something other than this? It isn’t the most friendly!

‘Well, when all of this is done, then hopefully I won’t have to wear it all the time! Until then, I’d rather not get stabbed. You know you can use your normal voice as well, right?’

This requires stealth, does it not? And so it seems wisest to make as little noise as possible. Although in your case, all that metal does eliminate your ability to be quiet somewhat!

‘That’s what Parth and Semari are for. Anyway, we should move on. If we can get you close to any others, then you can eliminate them.’

They were on the edge of the square – market stalls had been erected, the produce rotted and black, with a few more zombies shambling around. Pajaran, Vrintar and Hakara emerged from another alleyway, and Stathis pointed at one, then swung her hand down.

Vrintar charged at it, axes cutting through the air – one sliced through the neck, decapitating it in a single strike, the other severing a leg. It tumbled to the ground, but wasn’t defeated, arms scrabbling for Vrintar. Pajaran attacked it next, mace slamming into the scrabbling body, meat splatting outwards. It took her several more strikes to obliterate it, smacking it again and again, until it was mostly unrecognisably mangled.

The black veins twitched and wriggled, the severed limp starting to drag itself back towards the splatted remnants of the body, which was already regenerate. Pajaran raised her shield, the holy symbol on the front shining for a moment, and the body gave a final twitch, before sagging down, the regeneration stopped.

Stathis gestured to continue – at the far end of the square was an imposing building, graceful and circular, carved from marble. Niches on the outside held statues, although probably not the original elven ones, looking dull and heavy against the light twists and decorations of the marble. A cluster of undead were stood in the entranceway – more zombie-townsfolk, but amongst them Stathis could see two shorter figures, bodies wrapped in funereal fabric, one holding a single-edged blade. They must be some of the elves that had been buried here!

A figure stepped out from the shadows next to Stathis, revealing itself as Parth. She growled and said something harsh and spiky-sounding, before switching languages. ‘A sin to be cleaned.’ She already had an arrow nocked, which she loosed, the shaft flying through the air, piercing straight through a skull. The targeted elf turned to look in their decoration, the arrow stuck through their head.

It charged, moving with speed closer to a living person, lightly racing over the ground, the other close behind it. As it moved, it drew a weapon, a silver-tinted axe coming to hand.

More arrows flashed through the air, Parth firing rapidly before dropping her bow and drawing her swords, charging forward to meet them both. Her movements were swift and sure, evading the slower attacks of the zombies, as the normal ones reacted more slowly, only just charging into the fight themselves.

Stathis moved to aid Parth, charging in and trying to stab the one with the axe. It moved with easy grace, avoiding her stab, swiftly moving backwards. Semari was faster though, stepping in close and grabbing the haft of the axe, twisting the shoulder further than it could go, until the joint popped. It flailed at her with the other arm, Stathis leaving them to it, moving to meet the other zombies. They were slow but strong and tough – a fist smacked into her shield, and she stabbed back, blade biting into preserved flesh. The black lines moved and shifted, the wound regenerating already, before she moved into a slicing swipe, through the throat. Pajaran’s mace swung, crushing through ribs, hard enough to knock it to the ground.

Vrintar jumped into the middle of the group, twin axes swinging, cleaving through skin and bone. Heat-haze shimmered from her flesh, hot enough to sting Stathis’ face. Between them, they made swift work of the zombies, reducing them to broken wrecks. Before they could regenerate, Janaxia scampered forward, touching each of them in turn, their bodies becoming inert as she did so.

With them dealt with, Stathis turned back to where Parth and Semari were fighting. These zombies seemed a lot tougher than the others, regenerating more rapidly from their wounds, their attacks getting faster and faster. Steel rang against steel as Parth parried a blow, using her second blade to attack back, slicing through their funeral shroud. Semari dropped low and kicked, sweeping a leg out and then grabbing and twisting from beneath them, throwing them to the ground. Before they could rise, she’d jumped onto them and started punching them in the head and shoulders, bone cracking under the assault of her fists.

Golden light started to flow into Stathis’ sword, the darkness sucking at it, but she stabbed down at the creature’s head, blank eyes staring back for a moment. The skull shattered beneath the point of her sword, the creature going limp.

When she looked up, Parth had driven a sword through the chest of the one she was fighting, but it pulled away, taking the weapon with it. Tiny blue motes struck it, making it pause for a second, giving Vrintar the chance to decapitate it, before Janaxia touched it. It’s final death took longer, the thing standing there as it disintegrated, bones visible for a moment as it turned to ash, Parth’s sword clattering to the ground.

Stathis turned towards the entranceway to the building – dark and looming, the reek of blood coming from within. Red mage-lights could be seen within, low and hazy, making distances hard to tell. Stathis flicked her blade, cleaning it off.

‘Everyone ready? We don’t seem to have been noticed yet. Janaxia, don’t wander off!’

Janaxia was already heading into the building, her blue clothing fading into dull greys as she entered.

‘Dammit. Everyone, watch out, and let’s see what’s going on.’

Stathis kept her sword out as she advanced, the temperature dropping as soon as she entered, air cold against her face.