Hump couldn’t tear his gaze from the battlefield, or at least, what was left of it. He watched as the cliff continued to crumble away, white stone tumbling to the city below. Buildings collapsed off the edge, bodies fell, and in less than a minute half the temple district was gone.

Even seeing it, Hump struggled to believe it all. This was Sheercliff. A city older than the Kingdom of Alveron. A divine wonder created by Osidium himself.

Standing over it all was Anthony. The warlock watched from a platform of stone that he held suspended in the air with his powers, as he looked over the great chasm that now carved Sheercliff in two. His eyes were on the Lower City. He basked in the ruins of his making, an aura of supreme confidence surrounding him. Twelve other warlocks stood with him on the platform, along with Lord Ferrand, who was now on his knees. He seemed shocked to Hump, as if this hadn’t been his plan.

Too late for regrets now.

“It’s gone,” Bud murmured. “Gods help us. What… what are we going to do? How…” he trailed off.

Hump could hear the hopelessness in his voice. He didn’t like it; of all of them, Bud was the one that could never give up. The one that had to remain steadfast while the rest of them doubted themselves.

“He has something in his hands,” Celaine said, squinting. Her eyes shone with essence. “Some sort of essence stone, I think.”

“You think?” Hump asked.

She nodded. “It’s not in the common shape. It’s long and relatively thin, though much larger than even a dungeon core.”

Hump studied Anthony, a terrible feeling coming over him as he realised the warlocks may not yet have succeeded with their plan. This wasn’t the end. And then he saw it. Essence seeped from Anthony in a mixture of bronze, red, and black. Slowly at first, but his power was building.

“He’s casting a spell,” Hump said.

“Is there no end to this?” Emilia muttered.

Anthony started to chant. It rolled from his lips, dark, deep, and resonating throughout the city. Essence stirred, growing stronger. His cloak billowed; his hair rose on its ends. Red, bronze, and black strands escaping it in tendrils. The black words came from his faster, coming to a rolling crescendo.

Hump didn’t recognise the magic, but he recognised the intent.

The light grew stronger, filled with an intent that sent a chill to Hump’s bones. Death. That was what it told him. Not just his own death, but the death of everything. It radiated from Anthony in a halo of hatred, fuelled by whatever the essence stone in his hand was.

Suddenly, twelve distinct channels spread out around him in a circle, forming lines of essence in the air, floating over the city. A formation—one greater than any Hump had seen. It continued to grow, expanding until it seemed to cover half the city in lines of essence. Below, red pillars of dungeon essence flowed upward—the Trees of Damnation from all over the city answering his call. All of them were pieces of the formation. Essence flooded in through the twelve channels, funnelling back to Anthony where he gathered it into the essence stone.

He held the stone up in both hands, somehow containing the power within. Red, black, and bronze mixed like boiling oil, colours rolling over each other. The light from it stained the city in a red tint. Hump felt essence crawl over his skin, a feeling of wrongness coming with it. It made him want to curl up and hide, but he could do nothing but stare. How was this possible? It was beyond what any practitioner should be capable of. Beyond the limitations of a Rank 6 wizard or martial. Had Anthony found a way to break through? Or perhaps this was the power he’d gained from the shrine; an essence stone left behind by Osidium.

Another channel of essence exploded from the stone—the thirteenth. It was larger than the others, and raced toward the House of Stone. Toward Hump and the others. It tore through the ruined buildings that stood between them, through the stairs and floor of the main hall, tunnelling its way straight to the Tree of Damnation to Hump’s left. The world howled. Hump raised an arm at the force of essence in the room, shielding his face as residual power struck him like a storm of death. It was cold and hot all at once, clinging to him.

The wind threw back his cloak and hair, threatening to blow him over. He leant into it, gripping his staff, half dragging himself to turn toward the tree.

He saw it then; a hulking shadow through the rift, and it was moving closer. A beast of nightmares. One he had seen before. Hump recognised its fuzzy outline. The body of charcoal lines and a darkness that flickered at the edges, constantly shifting. There was no forgetting the pure white, empty eyes that stared out at them.

This was the riftwalker. He’d been in Bledsbury Dungeon, on the other end of the black stone, and now he was here.

“The tree!” Hump shouted over the storm of essence. “The spell’s a summoning. That’s the creature that took Kassius away. Anthony is trying to summon him here.”

They all turned to look.

“Are you sure?” Celaine asked. “You never mentioned it being this big.”

“It was smaller last time.”

Not that it mattered. They were dead. The situation was bad already, but if this thing got through… He remembered the feeling of helplessness last time, when Prince Kassius had been taken back through the rift, and time seemed to have frozen. The way the world had turned grey, as if all life and sound had been drained from the world. The dominating, all-encompassing power that Hump knew they would be defenceless against.

Sheercliff would not survive it.

Hump’s hand went to his dragon egg. He felt a streak of warmth from it, seeping into him and pushing back the overwhelming dark thoughts. He felt the small box in his pouch beside it—the phoenix feather.

He knew they only had one chance. This was no longer about being noble. This wasn’t about doing what was right. If Anthony’s summoning was successful, they would never leave the House of Stone alive. The riftwalker had been beyond powerful even in its previous form, but if it made it through now, he could imagine what would happen.

The storm of essence died down as the channel connected to the tree, all that power pouring into it. The rift in the trunk swam with essence, a dark void that was expanding. Dungeon essence erupted from the ground around them, exploding from its leaves in streams of red vapour. Red mist seeped from its roots, trailing over the ground.

Hump stepped back as wiry, capillary-like roots wormed their way out of the tile floor, grasping at his boots. Faint shimmers of red ran through them, and the sound of shifting filled the room. The roots pierced the bodies of the dead, burying themselves deep in their flesh. Limbs cracked and twisted. Flesh splayed open as the roots tore their way through the body like worms beneath the skin. The bodies shifted, contorting inhumanly, rising like puppets on a string.

“We either run now or fight,” Celaine said. “What’s it going to be?”

“Our only chance is to destroy the tree,” Hump said, unable to hide the quiver in his voice. He turned to his party and shrugged. “We might as well try.”

“I’m with you,” Emilia said. “If that thing makes it through, surviving a few extra minutes won’t matter.”

Celaine gave a nod, her eyes serious.

Dylan was already advancing to Hump’s side, his eyes on the dead bodies rising around them.

Hump looked at Bud, a glimmer of light in the knight’s eyes. “Perhaps this is why we are here. This must be our true mission. The gods have brought us to this place.”

“Maybe,” Hump said. “But right now, it’s just the five of us. Let’s cross our fingers that’s enough.”

Around them, the dead were coming. They were sluggish at first, their limbs struggling to fully support themselves. In places, roots tore through their flesh, steadying them against the floor. Their eyes shone with the tree’s red essence—it was in command now.

“We’ll keep them off you,” Dylan said, brandishing his staff. “Go!”

The tree was so close. A dozen paces and Hump would have his moment. A point-blank jet of White Flame, fuelled with the power of the phoenix feather. If that wasn’t enough, then they’d come here for nothing.

No use doubting it now, Hump told himself, taking his first step forward.

The dead made clicking sounds, like some strange insect giving a warning call. And then they came at them, propelled by the tree’s power. They were fast, but their bodies fell apart as they moved, until the only thing keeping them together was the plant matter that invaded them. Red essence shone in their eyes and beneath their skin. It radiated from their bodies.

There was a bang behind him, and Hump spared a moment to glance over his shoulder as Corvin fell through. The knight of Ordana landed heavily. He was bloodied, his armour dented. One leg moved stiffly as he tried to right himself. Abraxus entered quickly, taking aim with his staff as he tried to finish the job, only for Patrick to appear behind him. He tripped the inquisitor with a shadow tendril, using it to propel himself toward the inquisitor, his dagger piercing for the man’s neck.

Instead of dodging, Abraxus moved toward the approaching rogue. He whirled, staff brimming with power. Patrick saw what was coming and tried to leap back, but Abraxus extended a clawed hand, Mage Hand appearing around the rogue’s throat.

“Essence Smash.” He slammed his staff into his stomach with an explosive boom, blue light radiating throughout the hall.

“No!” Corvin cried.

The rogue was blasted back, crashing against the ground with an impact that sounded like bones breaking. He collapsed to the floor in a heap, his stomach caved in. Blood spilt out from inside his black leather armour, pooling on the floor around him. His head lolled. He was dead the moment he was struck.

“Keep moving!” Bud shouted.

Hump struggled to turn away as Abraxus approached Corvin next. Behind him, Celaine gave him a shove.

“Go!” she said, already nocking an arrow. “If that thing makes it through, whether we survive or not won’t matter.”

She was right. None of it mattered.

He turned back to the animated dead, lingering around the tree in a disorganised fashion. He charged, his party around him. They fought their way to the tree. There was no straight path. Everything around them was chaos and confusion. Hump tossed out spell after spell, tearing through whatever stood before him, blasting out a path the only way he knew how. Arrows whizzed past him, Dylan’s vines grappled and tossed back the dead. Icy cold whipped past, and Emilia carved them apart. Distantly, Hump heard shouts. A shrieking scream of agony erupted, and Hump resisted the urge to turn. These were his friends, but they would all be dead if he stopped.

The tiled floor turned to crumbled stone, and then finally to roots. Hump stumbled onward. The tree was before him. One of the dead leapt at him from the left, and he raised his staff, only for Dylan to smash it back to the ground. The druid roared with fury, his bear form’s voice echoing with him, thundering through the hall. Hump spotted the three escaped warlocks on the balcony above, raining down arrows upon them.

Celaine used Spring Step to leap up to the balcony, drawing their attention away. Emilia moved on ahead, taking out two of the puppet-like dead, leaving Hump a clear path. He clambered up the thick roots, feeling essence pulse beneath his feet. It called to him, power at his fingertips.

Take me! Wield me to destroy!

The red mist welled around his feet, rising quickly, climbing over his waist. Hump ignored it. He pulled out the box from his pouch, carrying it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. In a way, it was. This was their life. Either it worked, or they died. Perhaps they’d die anyway.

“Dylan, watch out!” Bud called.

Hump turned in time to see Abraxus send Dylan flying. Bud was on the floor fighting bindings of pure essence as the dead encroached on him. Emilia stood over him, fighting them off as Bud poured Frostfire into the binding.

Abraxus held his staff up toward the roof, essence pouring into everything around them in strange, wispy streams. “Fabricate.”

Rubble flew to him. All the stone and rocks that had been torn up in the fighting, building a wall that surrounded them, blocking the rest of the battle from sight.

“It’s just me and you now,” Abraxus sneered.

“It’s not too late,” Hump said. “We can still destroy the tree. Just step down. Vivienne said you were an arsehole, but she trusted you. You don’t have to do this.”

“I will not fall for your tricks,” the man said.

Hump frowned. “What?”

“You will pay for what you did. Murderer! Warlock! Traitor.” Abraxus raised his staff.

Hump noticed the clouded look in Abraxus’ eyes once more, and something in Hump’s mind clicked. It had been so obvious.

Eliana wielded mind magic. She could have been behind all of it. The goblin attack, the falsified report of his master’s wounds. She had been friends with both Vivienne and his master at the academy—if anyone might know about the book, it would be her.

And she’d had years to corrupt Abraxus’ mind. To twist him to her will.

Yet it didn’t matter now. Abraxus was an enemy.

You know what you must do, a voice whispered to him.

Hump did. It filled him with rage, but he knew. He pressed his back against the trunk of the tree, resting his palm against it, and then he let the power he’d craved for so long flow through him. It roared through his body, in his mind—power beyond anything he’d ever felt.

But he would control it.