The alley went quiet for a moment, the muffled cries of the once rushing crowd now falling more and more silent in the distance. Erydnor's arm pulsed red again. His eyes were darting to his arm like a hawk.
Riven looked back at Erydnor's arm, seeing it pulse as he gripped his harpoon tightly. "Still glowing, that can't be any good."
Before Eryndor could get a response out, Liora slipped closer to him, pressing her body against his arm, "It's like it has its own heartbeat," wrapping her arm around his.
Eryndor flusters up, shocked by how fast Liora clung to his arm.
She leans back, letting go of him, "I want to test something." She reaches into her sling, grabbing an ash-core.
"Open your palm, let's see if our hypothesis was right." She says, visibly excited.
"What hypothesis? Eryndor lends out his palm, not expecting anything. Liora places the core in his hand, and it slowly starts to be absorbed into his arm.
"Th-the core is melting," Eryndor says in shock.
"Just as we predicted, it consumes other ash-cores for power," Liora smirks, looking pleasantly surprised.
"Well shit, that's new," Riven says, looking surprised as well. He turned back to the street, looking out of the alley.
The once chaotic street was nothing but corpses and rubble now, the smoke from the spreading fires filled the air, and only the cackling of the flames broke the silence.
Riven ducks his head back into the alley, turning to face Liora and Eryndor, looking grim.
"Not a soul out there. The guards will be here soon; we should get moving."
Eryndor nods, and Liora puts her hood back on.
"The guards will be here with a platoon of soldiers no more and no less," Liora says as she walks to the mouth of the alley.
"With that being said, we can talk about your arm later." She playfully says before beginning to run out into the streets.
"Let's go, Eryndor," Riven says, slinging his weapon, as he begins chasing after Liora.
Erydnor follows, clenching his fist as he leaves the alley.
"Keep up! Or you'll be Forgeling food," Liora remarks, running deeper into the city.
"What do you mean? There's no way the Forgeling are in the city." Eryndor musters out, panting from running so quickly.
"Miracle you've lived this long, being that naive," Liora shouts, still a little bit ahead of the two.
Riven glances at the wall's gate, seeing it from the brief openings between the buildings.
No way…
"She's not joking either, the gates are moving, look!" Riven said coldly, stopping to point at the gate.
Eryndor froze in his tracks, flicking to look at the iron wall.
The gate seal slowly started to move up.
Suddenly, a wave of loud screeches and growls comes pouring out of the gate.
"There's n-no way, right?" Eryndor looks in horror towards the gate.
"Who would do this? And why?" Eryndor clenches his fist
"Well, don't stop running, you idiots, we have to get to a safer place."
Meanwhile, in the noble realm.
"Sir! Sir!" A noble says in a rush. "The commonwealth wall and city have been compromised! What should we do!?"
"Calm yourself,
Order the sealing of all connecting trains and gates for the time being. All of those peasants can die for all we care."
An anonymous man says, his black and purple cloak flowing in the wind as he stands at the highest point of the city. Overlooking the walls.
"Ye-yes, sir!" The worker quickly responded to his order, rushing down the building.
"Tskk, damn rats."
The calm and quiet humming of vehicles fills the air.
"They will not ruin our way of life."
The man turns to leave, glancing back one more time at the walls before finally exiting the roof.
The large dorm surrounding the noble realm wards off all surrounding smoke and ashes. Even having its own air filtration system, releasing any gases produced in the region.
Inside, A council argues about what they should do about the common realm.
"We should just leave them to die!" One suggests his voice unwavering.
"No, we should help them, we could send more guards or supplies! Another suggests his hands quivering.
"Have you gone insane? Helping those mask lovers will only waste our resources!" The man yells angrily,
The council chatters again, not making any progress.
"ENOUGH!" A man in a red cloak yells, his voice echoing in the vast, grand room. Sitting on a throne, the man silences the room.
"For the time being, all those who rely on the mask will be isolated from the supplies from the nobles. More guards will be sent to the commonwealth region."
"The general is already working on a plan for how the re-entering of the city will commence."
"Will get those rats back in line in no time, for without our supplies, they will surely obey our commands."
The man leans against the throne's side, making a fist that he leans on with his cheek.
"That is all I need to say, now go and get out of my sight."
The nobles nod, knowing theirs no point in trying to convince the great glyph words.
Defying him would be like a mortal challenging a god. Or at least that's how the nobles saw the man.
As the nobles begin to leave the room, the room finally falls to a gentle quiet.
A man waits at the door, his hair ashy-white with an eyepatch; he patiently waits till all the nobles have left before entering the room.
The man walks on the crimson carpet, approaching the lord.
"Your highness." The man says coldly, kneeling to the man.
"What is it? Commander Varian…" The cloaked man says sharply.
"Please, your highness, let me go and set those filthy commoners straight. I will not disappoint you like last time, my lord."
"Oh my… look at you, Varian, usually you don't bother to go down to the ash. So, I wonder… What could it be that's been slowly eating away at you…?"
"I have someone I want to meet, your highness."
"You still want to leave the comfort of the noble realm even after losing your eye? Only a fool would go back."
"Then I must be a fool, my lord."
"This scar eats away at me every day, knowing she caused this without consequence, ticks me the wrong way, my lord."
"So be it, but let it be known I have warned you, it is not as you think it is down in the ash."
The man stands, walking to Varian, with his royal cloak and jewelry.
Varian stays kneeling, looking down at the crimson carpet, as he hears the lord walk by him.
"After all, I wouldn't want my son to die in the hands of filthy mask breathers." He says, pausing past Varian. Eventually, walking out of the room.
As the lord left, Varian stood turning to leave the marble room, his boots echoing as he exited the throne room. His mind already on the mask-wearers, and this time, he would make sure they learned the price of defiance.
This time, you won't get away, you eye sore ASH DWELLERS!!
-Break-
Back in the streets of the smolder, Eryndor, Riven, and Liora had no time to pause; the Growls of the Forgeling grew closer and closer with each breath.
"KEEP MOVING!" Liora shouted over the growing cacophony of screams.
"WE NEED TO FIND COVER," Riven looks around them, seeing the shadows of the Forgelings cut down buildings and people.
The group dashed through the streets, the smoke of the broken buildings and burning wood filled the air, thick with despair.
Turning another corner, the group ran into a group of guards searching for survivors and culprits.
FREEZE! The guards train their weapons on the 3 of them running towards them. Their hands begin shaking, obviously filled with fear.
FREEZE OR WELL SHOOT! The muffled noise of the guard says, however, the three continue to run at them, not phased by the guards.
If they wanted to, they could've shot us from when we hit the corner. They're just faking!
Eryndor smirks, his initial fear suddenly crumbling.
ALRIGHT YOU ASKED FOR IT, FIR–.
The three dash past them, the dust and ash swirling past the men.
The men look back at them in confusion, "If they're not after us, then what are they running from—"
The Forgelings scream, hitting the corner at breakneck speed, overpowering the ambient flames that we're crackling in the background.
"SHIT! FORGELINGS!" One of the men turns in a hurry, opening fire towards the horde.
The group of men opened fire blindly towards the group of Forgelings, their steam-powered rifles ripping through a handful of Forgelings.
"THEY'RE TOO MANY WE NEED—" in the blink of an eye, the group was already cut down into the dirt and moot. No screams, just blood flying in the air.
Some guards tried running away, but didn't make it in the end; their blood-curdling cries rang in the hollow air.
Eryndor glances back at the group of men before turning the next corner, seeing their corpses getting trampled by the Forgelings.
Even if they were city guards who oppressed us, I can't help but feel bad for them… but it was either them or us, warning them would've gotten us all killed.
"OVER THERE!" Liora yells, pointing at a tavern in between two decaying buildings.
Eryndor snaps out of it, looking at Liora, who is pointing.
"WE CAN TAKE SHELTER THERE. WE SHOULD HAVE ENOUGH TIME, THANKS TO THAT DISTRACTION!"
The three of them pour their last bit of energy into making it into the building, crouching and hiding underneath the windows.
"Shhhhhh, make a sliver of noise and we're dead," Liora says, taking off her hood.
The Forgeling passed by the tavern, rushing down the street in search of any form of life. Their footsteps were loud and clanky, covering the street with their blight and dust. After a brief moment, they pass.
They all sigh in relief, staying low to the ground in case of any other threats that may be roaming the streets.
The air was thick in the tavern, busted chairs and shattered were everywhere, and the creeping smell of smoke had already crept inside.
Eryndor stood up, slumping against the wall, clutching his pulsing arm. Liora moved to the tavern's counter, peeking over just enough to watch the shadows that moved outside. Riven positioned himself by the window, harpoon in hand.
The silence was unbearable, even the littlest drop rang volumes across the air.
We're not safe yet. Forgelings don't give up that easily."
Eryndor looks to her, his barely audible from his panting. "Then what do we do?"
Riven didn't bother to turn from the window. His voice was low, grim like. "We wait. And if worst comes to worst," he grips his weapon tightly. "We make sure this place isn't our graves."
The tavern creaked in silence; in the distance, the growls of Forgelings echoed throughout the city.
Eryndor's arm began to pulse again, this time more violently than the last…