The howls from the forest grew closer, and suddenly the treeline erupted with movement as a massive wave of corrupted creatures burst from the shadows. Cryptbears charged forward with their coffin armor clanging, while packs of Dreadfang Wolves spread out to flank the defensive position. Above them, swarms of Bone-Chewer Bats darkened the sky, and Widowspine Spiders scuttled down from the canopy with deadly purpose.
"Defensive positions!" the ghostly Dame Calderas commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos with military precision. "Form ranks! Hold the line!"
Without hesitation, Ironstride rushed forward to join the spectral chapel guards at the front, his shield raised as he took position alongside the ghostly defenders. The transition felt seamless, as if he'd always been part of their unit.
"This is it!" he called back to his party. "Whatever happens, we don't let them break through!"
Dame Calderas stepped behind the defensive line, her pristine armor beginning to glow with increasing intensity as she raised her hands toward the crimson moon above. The silver light emanating from her form grew brighter as she began to chant in a language that predated the corruption of the vale.
"By her quiet light… endure!" she declared, her voice resonating with divine authority.
Blessing of the Silent Moon
Effect: Party gains moderate damage reduction + health regeneration
Silvery radiance washed over both the living party members and their ghostly allies, wrapping them in protective light that stood in stark contrast to the red-tinged atmosphere. The blessing felt warm and reassuring, like standing in moonlight on a peaceful night rather than facing down a horde of corrupted beasts.
The battle that followed was unlike anything they'd experienced in Fabledeep.
Nira proved to be absolutely devastating against the massed enemies. Her area-of-effect spells carved swaths through the charging creatures, flames washing over multiple targets with each cast. She cackled with manic glee as she unleashed her most powerful attacks into the densest concentrations of foes.
"GET SOME!" she shouted, hurling another massive fireball into a cluster of charging Cryptbears. "Come on! Who else wants a piece?!"
Her enthusiasm was infectious, and even the ghostly defenders seemed to fight with renewed vigor as her flames cleared entire sections of the attacking horde.
Serein positioned himself strategically behind the line, his healing spells flying constantly to keep Ironstride and the other frontline fighters alive. Most remarkably, his nature-based magic seemed to affect the spectral chapel guards as well, their forms becoming more solid and defined whenever his restorative energy touched them.
"Even the dead can be healed," he murmured in wonder, sending another wave of healing energy toward a wavering ghostly knight. "Death hasn't completely severed their connection to life."
Spudicus deployed every gadget in his arsenal, his explosives and entanglement devices proving crucial for disrupting the enemy charges before they could reach the defensive line. Widget's lasers provided constant supporting fire, picking off wounded enemies and helping to thin the horde's numbers.
"Grenade out!" he called cheerfully, lobbing another explosive into a pack of approaching wolves. "Let's see how you like some quality engineering!"
But it was Lunessa who felt the most frustration during the massive engagement. Her usual hit-and-run tactics were completely unsuited for this type of defensive battle, where breaking formation to strike at enemy flanks would mean certain death amid the chaos.
Instead, she found herself constantly moving along the defensive line, identifying weak points where the ghostly defenders were being overwhelmed and lending her blades to shore up the gaps. It wasn't her preferred style of combat, but it was necessary to keep the entire line from collapsing.
"Left flank!" she called out, rushing to aid a chapel guard who was being swarmed by spiders. "They're trying to break through!"
As the battle raged on, the toll became increasingly apparent. One by one, the ghostly defenders fell to the relentless assault, their forms dissipating into silver mist as they were overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Each loss made the remaining defenders fight more desperately to hold their positions.
When the last corrupted creature finally fell, only three spectral figures remained standing: Dame Calderas, one chapel guard who was clearly recognizable as Brother Halden despite his more solid appearance, and one other knight whose armor bore the scars of countless battles.
The party was in rough shape as well. Despite the protective blessing, the sustained combat had drained their resources almost completely. Mana and focus reserves were nearly empty, health potions had been consumed, and everyone was breathing heavily from the exertion.
"Is it over?" Serein asked, his voice hoarse from constantly calling out healing spells throughout the battle.
The question was answered by another deep, resonant howl that echoed from the forest depths—but this one was different. Where the earlier sounds had been bestial and hungry, this carried intelligence and malice that spoke of something far more dangerous than corrupted animals.
From the treeline, a single figure emerged with predatory grace that made everyone freeze in terror.
This was Lord Aurelian Veyne, but not as he had been in life. The ghostly form that approached them was fully transformed, standing nearly nine feet tall with the muscular frame and lupine features of a massive werewolf. Crimson fur covered his body, and his eyes burned with an inner fire that spoke of endless hunger and complete madness. Tattered remnants of noble clothing clung to his form, mockeries of the station he had once held.
Most terrifyingly, there was nothing human left in his gaze—only the wild intelligence of a predator that had long since forgotten what it meant to be civilized.
A debuff immediately appeared in the party's interface:
Terror of the Red Pact
Effect: Paralyzed by supernatural fear
None of them could move. The fear wasn't just emotional—it was a supernatural compulsion that locked their muscles and left them helpless before the approaching horror.
But Dame Calderas stepped forward, placing herself between the paralyzed party and the transformed lord she had once served. Her spectral form blazed with silver light as she faced the creature that had once been her commander and perhaps something more.
"What have you become, Aurelian?" she asked, her voice carrying infinite compassion despite the tragedy before her.
Lord Veyne's only response was another howl that shook the very air, followed by him crouching low in preparation for a devastating leap that would tear through anyone in his path.
Dame Calderas raised her hands, silver light gathering around her as she began another incantation. But this one was different—more personal, more desperate, carrying the weight of shared history and broken oaths.
"You are more than his creature," she declared, her voice rising with conviction. "By the quiet light that first bound us… remember who you are. For the vows we made… for the oaths we broke… I stand with you now. I will share this burden."
The spell that followed was unlike anything they had witnessed. A brilliant silver radiance cut through the red haze that surrounded Lord Veyne, washing over his corrupted form with gentle but inexorable power. The crescent sigil on Dame Calderas' chest blazed with pale fire as her voice reached a crescendo, and for a moment, the endless hunger in the werewolf's eyes faltered.
Lord Veyne staggered, his claws slackening as confusion replaced pure predatory instinct. His breathing became ragged, and something almost human flickered behind the madness.
Then the corruption responded.
Like a living thing with its own malevolent will, a portion of the red-tinged darkness that had claimed Lord Veyne tore itself free from his body and struck Dame Calderas with visible force. She screamed in agony as the malignant energy wrapped around her, and her pristine armor began to show the first signs of tarnish and damage.
But her sacrifice was not in vain. With some of the corruption drawn away from him, clarity returned to Lord Veyne's features. The endless hunger faded from his eyes, replaced by horror and recognition as he truly saw what he had become.
"What have I done?" he whispered, his voice barely audible but carrying the weight of infinite regret.
The moment stretched, pregnant with tragedy and the terrible cost of good intentions corrupted by desperate circumstances. Then, like a star collapsing in on itself, all the ghostly figures—Dame Calderas, Brother Halden, the remaining chapel guard, and even Lord Veyne—began to dissolve back into silver light.
The individual points of radiance swirled together, merging and coalescing until they formed the familiar shape of their guide-wisp once more. But now the silver light pulsed with new purpose, as if it carried the weight of all the memories they had witnessed.
A quest notification appeared in their interfaces, the elegant script more urgent than before:
Quest Updated: Oath Unbroken
Current Objectives:
— Defeat Sir Coren, the Broken Oath
— Return the Fractured Blade to the altar
The fear effect finally lifted, allowing them to move again, but the emotional weight of what they had witnessed left them all shaken.
"That was…" Nira began, then trailed off, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
"Intense," Lunessa said quietly.
The silvery wisp hovered nearby, patiently waiting to guide them to their final destination—and to Sir Coren, the knight who had broken completely under the weight of witnessing such tragedy.
"Come on," Ironstride said, his voice carrying new resolve. "We have one more brother to help find peace."