The Descent of Noctivex
The sky split.
Not with light.
With silence.
The blood moon pulsed once—then vanished. In its place, a void opened, swallowing the stars. The clouds turned black, not with storm, but with intent. They twisted into wings, claws, and fangs, and from their center, the first of the Skyfall Plague Beasts descended.
Noctivex.
Bat-winged panther. Eyes like extinguished suns. Fur stitched from shadow. Its breath carried blindness. Its claws dripped with Sovereign Radiance—stolen, not earned.
It did not roar.
It erased.
Zariah the Flamewrought stood beneath the void.
Her Ashfangs pulsed, but dimly. Her Emberglyphs flickered. Emberveil stitched a new patch across her chest—black and violet, etched with the word Sightless.
She whispered:
> "You are not shadow. You are silence."
Noctivex struck.
Dark Pulse—a blast of pure void that blinded the battlefield. The Flame Tree vanished. The Trial Fire dimmed. Zariah saw nothing.
She bled.
She staggered.
She summoned.
From the cracks in the Flame Tree, a swarm erupted—bats stitched from emberlight and glyphfire. They did not fly. They hunted.
They swarmed Noctivex, carving sigils into its wings. The beast screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the void.
Zariah bit her own palm.
Bloodbite.
She cast the glyph into her mouth, then leapt—biting Noctivex's flank, transferring the glyph directly into its flesh.
The beast recoiled.
It struck again.
Voidlash—a whip of shadow that tore through the Ashbats, unraveling their flame. Zariah screamed. Her shoulder split. Emberveil tore.
She whispered:
> "I do not see. I burn."
She activated Glyphnest, casting a trap beneath Noctivex. When it landed, the sigils erupted—summoning a second swarm.
Trialcrows.
Birds of flame and memory. They pecked at Noctivex's eyes, its wings, its breath.
Zariah rose.
She struck.
First hit—Ashfangs into its chest.
Second hit—Cinderstep behind it, carving Sight into its spine.
Third hit—Originflare, rewinding time and striking before its final roar.
Fourth hit—Bloodbite again, this time into its throat.
Noctivex shattered.
Its wings dissolved.
Its breath faded.
Its silence broke.
Emberveil stitched a new patch—black and ember, etched with the word Vision.
The Trial Fire pulsed.
The Flame Tree bloomed.
But the sky did not clear.
It pulsed again.
And from the clouds, the second beast began to descend.
The Descent of Grimnest
The sky did not scream.
It nested.
The clouds above Lycanridge twisted into spirals—black feathers, coiled wings, and beaks carved from shadow. The blood moon pulsed once more, then vanished behind a veil of smoke. The Flame Tree bent low, its leaves shedding embers. The Trial Fire flickered, sensing betrayal.
Zariah the Flamewrought stood beneath the storm.
Her Ashfangs pulsed with Sovereign Radiance. Emberveil stitched a new patch across her shoulder—charcoal and crimson, etched with the word Swarm.
And then it fell.
Grimnest.
A serpent with raven's wings. Scales like shattered glass. Eyes that blinked in reverse. Its breath carried infestation. Its claws dripped with command.
It did not roar.
It summoned.
Grimnest unleashed Neststorm, a vortex of black feathers and ashlice—creatures born from corrupted glyphs. They swarmed the battlefield, devouring Zariah's summoned Ashbats mid-flight. Her Trialcrows scattered. Her Glyphhounds howled and vanished.
She staggered.
She whispered:
> "You are not command. You are corruption."
She summoned again.
Emberlice—tiny flame-fed parasites that burrow into summoned beasts and rewrite their purpose. They latched onto Grimnest's swarm, turning the ashlice against their master.
Grimnest screamed.
It retaliated with Featherbind, wrapping Zariah in wings of shadow and silence. Her breath faltered. Her glyphs dimmed. Emberveil tore.
She bled.
She bit.
Bloodbite—into her own wrist, casting a glyph into her mouth. She leapt, biting Grimnest's throat and transferring the glyph directly into its flesh.
The beast recoiled.
She struck.
First hit—Ashfangs into its wing.
Second hit—Glyphstorm into its chest.
Grimnest twisted mid-air, summoning a second swarm—Trialcrows stitched from her own glyphs. They turned on her.
She whispered:
> "I do not summon. I forge."
She activated Glyphnest, casting a trap beneath Grimnest. When it landed, the sigils erupted—summoning a new creature.
Glyphboar—a beast stitched from her pain and flame. It charged Grimnest, tearing through its wings and casting sigils with every step.
Zariah rose.
Third hit—Cinderstep behind it, carving Command into its spine.
Fourth hit—Originflare, rewinding time and striking before its final scream.
Grimnest shattered.
Its wings dissolved.
Its breath faded.
Its swarm scattered.
Emberveil stitched a new patch—black and ember, etched with the word Dominion.
The Trial Fire pulsed.
The Flame Tree bloomed.
But the sky did not clear.
It pulsed again.
And from the clouds, the third beast began to descend.
The Descent of Fangveil
The sky did not open.
It snarled.
The clouds above Lycanridge twisted into fangs and claws, dripping with emberlight. The blood moon pulsed once, then vanished behind a veil of smoke. The Flame Tree bent low, its bark splitting. The Trial Fire hissed, sensing hunger.
Zariah the Flamewrought stood beneath the storm.
Her Ashfangs pulsed with Sovereign Radiance. Emberveil stitched a new patch across her throat—deep crimson and bone-white, etched with the word Bite.
And then it fell.
Fangveil.
A horned wolf with ember fangs. Its breath carried heat. Its claws dripped with blood. Its eyes glowed with hunger. Its wings were torn, stitched from flame and sinew.
It did not roar.
It lunged.
Fangveil unleashed Bloodbite, a strike that tore through Zariah's Ashfangs and sank into her shoulder. Her glyphs flickered. Her breath faltered. Emberveil screamed.
She bled.
She whispered:
> "You are not hunger. You are habit."
She summoned.
Glyphhounds—flame-etched wolves born from her own glyphs. They charged Fangveil, biting and burning. But the beast turned on them, devouring their flame and growing stronger.
Zariah staggered.
She bit.
Bloodbite—into her own wrist, casting a glyph into her mouth. She leapt, biting Fangveil's flank and transferring the glyph directly into its flesh.
The beast screamed.
It retaliated with Fangstorm, a flurry of bites that tore through her summoned creatures and shattered her glyphnest. Zariah fell. Her ribs cracked. Her breath slowed.
She whispered:
> "I do not bite to feed. I bite to forge."
She summoned again.
Ashbats and Emberlice—a swarm of flame-winged bats and glyph-fed parasites. They latched onto Fangveil, burning and burrowing.
Zariah rose.
First hit—Ashfangs into its chest.
Second hit—Glyphstorm into its wings.
Third hit—Cinderstep behind it, carving Control into its spine.
Fourth hit—Bloodbite into its throat.
Fangveil shattered.
Its wings dissolved.
Its fangs fell to the earth.
Emberveil stitched a new patch—crimson and ember, etched with the word Predator.
The Trial Fire pulsed.
The Flame Tree bloomed.
But the sky did not clear.
It pulsed again.
And from the clouds, the fourth beast began to descend.
The Descent of Vexmourn
The sky did not cry.
It collapsed.
The clouds above Lycanridge twisted into trenches and pits, as if the heavens themselves were sinking. The blood moon pulsed once, then vanished behind a veil of mist. The Flame Tree bent low, its roots trembling. The Trial Fire flickered, sensing something ancient and heavy.
Zariah the Flamewrought stood beneath the storm.
Her Ashfangs pulsed with Sovereign Radiance. Emberveil stitched a new patch across her lower back—gray and ember-red, etched with the word Burden.
And then it fell.
Vexmourn.
A mist-covered boar. Its tusks curved like broken glyphs. Its breath carried sorrow. Its hooves cracked the earth. Its wings were heavy, stitched from fog and memory.
It did not charge.
It sank.
Vexmourn unleashed Sorrowquake, a tremor that collapsed the battlefield beneath Zariah's feet. The Trial Fire split. The Flame Tree groaned. Emberveil tore.
She fell.
She bled.
She whispered:
> "You are not sorrow. You are weight."
She summoned.
Glyphboars—creatures stitched from her own pain and flame. They charged Vexmourn, but the beast burrowed into the Trial Fire, dragging them into the molten core.
Zariah screamed.
She bit.
Bloodbite—into her own shoulder, casting a glyph into her mouth. She leapt, biting Vexmourn's flank and transferring the glyph directly into its flesh.
The beast roared.
It retaliated with Mistbind, wrapping her in fog and silence. Her breath slowed. Her glyphs dimmed. Her Ashfangs cracked.
She whispered:
> "I do not rise. I burn beneath."
She activated Glyphnest, casting a trap beneath Vexmourn. When it surfaced, the sigils erupted—summoning a new creature.
Trialmoles—burrowing beasts stitched from ember and ash. They tunneled into Vexmourn's legs, erupting in flame.
Zariah rose.
First hit—Ashfangs into its chest.
Second hit—Glyphstorm into its wings.
Third hit—Cinderstep behind it, carving Weight into its spine.
Fourth hit—Bloodbite into its throat.
Vexmourn shattered.
Its wings dissolved.
Its tusks fell to the earth.
Emberveil stitched a new patch—mist and ember, etched with the word Depth.
The Trial Fire pulsed.
The Flame Tree bloomed.
But the sky did not clear.
It pulsed again.
And from the clouds, the fifth beast began to descend.
The Descent of Skrythe
The sky did not fall.
It reflected.
Above Lycanridge, the clouds twisted into mirrored shapes—shimmering with false light, bending flame into illusion. The blood moon pulsed once, then fractured into shards that hovered in the air like broken glass. The Flame Tree bent low, its branches recoiling. The Trial Fire flickered, casting light that bent back upon itself.
Zariah the Flamewrought stood beneath the storm.
Her Ashfangs pulsed with Sovereign Radiance. Emberveil stitched a new patch across her left arm—silver and ember, etched with the word Mirror.
And then it fell.
Skrythe.
A jackal with mirror-scaled skin. Its wings shimmered with stolen light. Its eyes reflected Zariah's own. Its breath carried mimicry. Its claws dripped with her past.
It did not roar.
It copied.
Skrythe unleashed Echolash, a strike that mirrored Zariah's last move—Glyphstorm. The battlefield erupted with her own sigils, turned against her. Her Ashfangs dimmed. Her glyphs shattered. Emberveil tore.
She bled.
She whispered:
> "You are not reflection. You are repetition."
She summoned.
Trialcrows—birds etched with burning glyphs. They circled Skrythe, casting sigils mid-flight. But the beast mirrored them, summoning its own swarm—crows stitched from Zariah's discarded glyphs.
She bit.
Bloodbite—into her own palm, casting a glyph into her mouth. She leapt, biting Skrythe's flank and transferring the glyph directly into its mirrored flesh.
The beast screamed.
It retaliated with Sigilshard, a blast of broken glyphs that tore through her summoned creatures and cracked the Flame Tree's bark.
She fell.
She whispered:
> "I do not repeat. I rewrite."
She activated Glyphnest, casting a trap beneath Skrythe. When it landed, the sigils erupted—summoning a new creature.
Mirrorboar—a beast stitched from her contradictions. It charged Skrythe, reflecting its mimicry back upon itself.
Zariah rose.
First hit—Ashfangs into its chest.
Second hit—Glyphstorm into its wings.
Third hit—Cinderstep behind it, carving Original into its spine.
Fourth hit—Bloodbite into its throat.
Skrythe shattered.
Its wings dissolved.
Its scales fell to the earth.
Emberveil stitched a new patch—silver and ash, etched with the word Rewrite.
The Trial Fire pulsed.
The Flame Tree bloomed.
But the sky did not clear.
It pulsed again.
And from the clouds, the sixth beast began to descend.
The Descent of Threnox
The sky did not whisper.
It wailed.
Above Lycanridge, the clouds twisted into mouths—open, screaming, endless. The blood moon pulsed once more, then shattered into a ring of sound. The Flame Tree bent low, its leaves vibrating. The Trial Fire flickered, casting waves of heat that trembled with dread.
Zariah the Flamewrought stood beneath the storm.
Her Ashfangs pulsed with Sovereign Radiance. Emberveil stitched a new patch across her neck—obsidian and violet, etched with the word Voice.
And then it fell.
Threnox.
A banshee-goat hybrid. Its horns curled like tuning forks. Its wings shimmered with sonic glyphs. Its eyes glowed with silence. Its breath carried vibration. Its hooves left behind echoes.
It did not roar.
It screamed.
Threnox unleashed Wailbrand, a sonic blast that shattered Zariah's patches mid-battle. Emberveil tore. Her Emberglyphs flickered. Her Ashfangs dimmed. The Flame Tree cracked. The Trial Fire recoiled.
She fell.
She bled.
She whispered:
> "You are not voice. You are volume."
She summoned.
Trialcrows and Glyphhounds—creatures stitched from her flame and silence. They charged Threnox, but the beast screamed again, unraveling their forms and scattering their glyphs.
Zariah bit.
Bloodbite—into her own tongue, casting a glyph into her mouth. She leapt, biting Threnox's flank and transferring the glyph directly into its flesh.
The beast screamed louder.