The king’s stronghold crumbled like a sandcastle against the tide when the tower fell on it, the fortress making a sound not unlike a large egg being cracked as the black structure was driven through it like a stake. For long moments the only sounds in the capital’s streets were the lingering sounds of rubble falling as everyone on both sides of the war stopped fighting to gaze in shock at the foreign object cast like an arrow from heaven.

When… things started spewing out of it, winged horrors filling the sky as monstrous creatures flooded the streets out of the ruins, those who didn’t react fast enough died in droves while those who managed to get their bearings died fighting. The soldiers and Knights of the Holy Order, those unfortunate enough to be closest to the castle, were the first to die, leaving only the resistance members and those few who managed to flee to try and mount a more solid defence against the horde.

Having Witches on their side helped, for a moment anyway; lighting and ice and distorted space tore creatures from the sky while pikes and shields and arrows held back those on the ground. Uriel helped as well, flaming falcons pursuing the foul creatures and consuming any they caught; he killed dozens by himself while hundred more fells to those around him, but in the end it was pointless. The tide of monsters seemed endless while their numbers were decidedly not. Large, brutish beasts of war pushed through their shield wall like it was nothing and began cutting down anyone within reach while the winged monstrosities plucked people from the crowd, focusing on taking out the biggest threats first, the Witches. As the fight wore on Uriel noticed fewer and fewer creatures falling to magic and he began glancing around to see who remained; what he saw was not promising.

Jarkon was dead, his volleys of obsidian spears having stopped a while ago; so were Hanley and Arkher, he could see their bodies from here. The brat was probably on the front lines as usual and probably still alive judging by the crashes in that direction. If only the old hag was still here; a storm raging over their heads would at least keep these bastards out of the sky. In the middle of it all he saw Miria, and it was then that any glimmer of hope he had left was crushed; cocky, conniving, deceitful, all-knowing Miria had dropped to her knees with a look of shock on her face, for once looking at a complete loss. It wasn’t a look you ever wanted a seer to have.

It took the creatures, too foul to even be called demons, maybe twenty minutes to eradicate both sides of the war; the castle, the kingdoms last bastion was reduced to rubble, the Holy Order’s remaining knights were dead and so were most of the Witches. Those who survived were rounded up by monsters that did not look like they should have been intelligent enough for such an action; somehow Uriel was one of those remaining and from the looks of things, the only Witch left. They were stripped of their weapons, dragged into the square in front of what was left of the castle and made to wait.

The creatures slowly began moving the rubble of the castle away, large chunks of rock that should have been impossibly to shift being tossed aside with ease. Eventually, when the sleek black rock of the tower was exposed, someone or something, stepped out to greet them.

----

He awoke in a cell.

It wasn’t the first time and at least this one was large enough for him to stand up in. He sat against the base of one wall, opposite the door, slowly returning to his senses as he began to realise that something was amiss; Ignis should have said something by now. He opened one hand and turned it palm up, watching as a slow trickle of smoke began to unfurl from the centre of it before a small and fitful flame burst to life. It was rather less impressive than the flame he was trying to summon and only confirmed his suspicions; his magic was weakened.

This was different from the effects of holy water, which felt like a wall had been placed around him which prevented any power from escaping, not to mention burning like hell against his skin. This felt more like something had been lost, like his power had been taken away, not just blocked. Uriel… felt a little conflicted about that.

Before he could dwell on things any longer he began to hear voices outside of his cell, mostly female and one that seemed to only repeat the words of others including their voices. Cautiously Uriel pushed himself upright and quietly moved to the door of this cell. Without his magic or any weapons he was feeling a little vulnerable and he still didn’t know where he was or how he had gotten here; it paid to be careful.

When he reached the cell door his stopped, not opening it but instead pressing himself against the bars and leaning to the side until he could catch a glimpse of who was talking. What he saw didn’t make a lot of sense to him; two winged humans, a person made of metal and one who had the appearance of a walking corpse. He wasn’t sure which one he found more impossible, but nonetheless there they all were. From the sounds of it they were prisoners to, from where he didn’t know, and just as confused by all this as he.

Whatever was going on, leaving whatever dungeon this was should be his first priority. And strange though these people might be it seemed they were in the same boat as him. He could ignore what they were for now if it meant getting out of here and find out if they were a threat later. Pushing open the door to his cell he stepped out into the central corridor with the rest of them; he glanced in their direction, getting a better, unobstructed view of them, before pulling another torch from its sconce. [color=ed1c24]“Leave first, figure out the rest later.”
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