Great Grandpa Lalli still held onto his motorcycle even as it was brought down the landing ramp of the family truck by his grandchildren and other members of the Lalli clan. The vehicle had stopped around the corner leading to the road towards Silver Myth Keep. The two-wheeler had a box of TNT strapped to the back with rope and black tape, and it was brought to face the road leading to the raised drawbridge of Silver Myth Keep. "Finally, it's about damn time," the crippled old man wearing a blindfold grumbled, his shaky hands gripping the handle. "I'll show you whippersnappers how to start a revolution!"

"But Great Grampa, you're blind! There's nothing you can do! Please, just go home! Leave the fighting to the rest of us!"
He heard one of the kids speak, but he just scoffed and stroked his beard. He still remembers the day the queen blinded him when he looked upon her face instead of killing him like she usually did. Maybe she decided the offense to behold her beauty did not warrant a death penalty that one time. Or maybe in a whim of cruel mercy, she wanted her face to be the last thing he would see for the rest of his days.

"Aim me at the wall, Kaapo. The queen may have taken my sight, but I still see something very clearly!" He climbed on top of the motorcycle after it was adjusted, and revved the engine one last time. "I see a future for Gilla's sons and daughters! A future where they can live in peace! Free from the witch! Free from tyranny! AND FREE FROM FEAR!" He then hit the gas, and charged forth as the fuse to the TNT was lit by Kaapo. "FOR GILLA!" He shouted out with all the power his soot-filled lungs had left in them, and with a mighty explosion blew open a hole into the wall next to the drawbridge. With his death, the rebels would have the first steps towards a new hope.

As the smoke from the explosion cleared out, Great Grandma Henriksson could only sigh. She had known the crochety old geezer since the both of them were youths, their families opposed. And in Shakespearean fashion, the two were secretly in love with each other. But of course, that tale did not end as romantically tragic as the famous play did: instead, once Great Grandpa Lalli was blinded, he turned bitter, consumed by revenge. He was no longer the man she loved.

And so, years went by, and Great Grandma Henriksson continued in her communing with the natural world, her garden the only place of respite. But eventually, as smog blanketed Gilla from the queen's wretched factories, her beloved flowers wilted away, and the bees stopped producing honey. Her family, one who always believed in the goddess' mercy, had turned a blind eye to the cruelty, caught up in their arcane studies of what few spell tomes they had. But Great Grandma had enough. She knew the Lalli clan would resort to even murdering the goddess, when she was their only salvation. She would take to the field so they younger generation would be spared, even if by a little.

And so, with a twisted walking stick, Great Grandma Henriksson hobbled towards Silver Myth Keep, surrounded by rebels falling like sacks of potatoes under the oppressive machineguns of The defenders. But they would be in for a surprise.
"O Goddess, grant me strength! Your gift of nature's splendor, ever bountiful! Release the fury of the small ones! Let your wings buzz, and your stings pierce wicked flesh! Summon Bee Hive!" She waved her staff in a circle, and a yellow hive formed on top of it. Then, she threw the bee hive as hard as her withered body could muster up to the machine gun nests, unleashing a swarm of angry bees that stung with wild abandon. Though not overtly lethal, the agony unleashed would be ample, not to mention distracting for the cause.

Meanwhile, Kaapo Lalli stood up after rolling out from the fallen semi, his pistol clutched with a clammy hand. He was but a young lad, having barely hit his early twenties. He lived a modest life as a postman, delivering letters and packages. But there was no reason to hesitate, even as he saw his former vehicle's wheel spin in place, a remnant of the debris. He was not afraid to charge into the fray, intending to pass through the hole his great Grandpa sacrificed his life to offer as he jumped in the moat. "FOR GILLAA!" He joined in the warcry, ready to shoot at the first guard he would see coming out of the hole with one hand while swimming with the other.

Chaos ensued.

The battlements was largely safe from gunfire. Even Nicolas, from his position in the leftmost machine gun nest, would be difficult to hit with a rifle. The cage built around the machine gun was purpose built to keep the gunner safe from any form of harm that could befall him. Explosion-proof barriers prevented pesky dynamite charges from harming him. A metal siege cage was sturdy enough to deflect more primitive projectiles. There was even an air supply mask to protect him from chemical weapons. Chase kept pointing, and Nicolas’s gun kept dropping bodies. The only thing that might have challenged the machine gun nest was a sniper, but there were no good ones left. The blood witch had conscripted them all into her armies, and killed the ones that resisted.

If Nicolas’s ears weren’t ringing from the gunfire, he might have heard a buzz from above. While nigh-impenetrable with lower end weaponry, there were gaps and holes into the nest so that the gun could be aimed and fired. Nicolas barely noticed the first bee, and only flinched when it pricked his enchanted flesh. Then another bee stung him, and another, and another, and soon the flashes from his muzzle illuminated hundreds of swarming insects.

“Not the bee- NOT THE BEES! AAHHHHHHHH!”

Nicolas waved his hands about as he abandoned the turret nest. Even nearby archers seemed shaken by the turret operator yelling like some has-been method actor. In the darkness it was not clear what had caused him to abandon his post, though anyone attempting to take over for him would quickly realise what was up.

Chase pointed back at the machine gun nest. “Find out what’s going on and fix it!” Fortunately for the keep, its second nest to the right was on the other side of the battlements, and wouldn’t be impeded by the bees. But this was starting to feel less like a one sided slaughter to Chase. None of the guardsmen had died, and the rebels had suffered massive casualties, but they were getting a little close for comfort. Between the overturned truck and the machine gun being down, the rebels were able to easily reach the moat on one side of the fort. If they managed to get inside… “Where’s that masonmancer!? And archers! Keep shooting!”

Kaapo took to the waters, emboldened by the sacrifice of his great grandpa. The moat was not so long. Twenty feet would be easy to swim through. The first guard that came in front of the hole was brandishing a machine gun. He looked out at the hundreds of targets before him, but Kaapo saw only one. His pistol was high, he had been careful not to get it wet. When he fired, the bullet struck the guard in the chest. His target stumbled against the wall and fell onto the stairs leading up to the battlements. But no blood had been spilled. Maybe he was wearing armor, maybe he had enchanted flesh, or maybe he had both. He leveled his gun at the boy, hovered his finger over the trigger.

And then he sank.

Initially the guard was surprised, but then he remembered the moat and grinned. It was filled with sharks. The giant killing machines could swallow a man whole, and always lingered in the area because of an enchanted blood spell. The waters also lead directly out to sea, which was how they were able to accept shipments without them getting intercepted. The guard stood back up and walked up to the battlements.

“Shit!”

Sally Dallas used to be a radio operator that managed all the trucks operating under Gerald Trucking. Up until the queen’s takeover, she had talked to and gotten to know many of the men and women who delivered supplies all over Gilla. Things weren’t the same once they had become corporatized. Upper management had been replaced, and nothing had really been the same after that. She knew Boston and Kaapo, and couldn’t be surprised that they were among the first to lose their lives. The young boy had always been reckless even before his grandpa’s sacrifice, and Boston had made it clear that he didn’t expect to live. Their deaths were a tragedy. Particularly Kaapo’s. She had tried to convince him to stay out of this, but there was no talking him down. Not when his grandpa was going.

“Okay…” Sally peaked around the concrete pile. “You ate one of us, but I forgive you. If you can act as a bridge to let us across, I’ll feed you until you bust!”

And with that, the great white rose to the surface of the water. The shark was about fifteen feet wide and filled most of the space between the hole in the wall and the edge of the water. However, such sharks also couldn’t breath unless they were moving. She didn’t expect the shark to hold for long, but it could get some people inside, hopefully.

But Sally wouldn’t be trying it herself. While Boston and Kaapo could bravely give their lives, Sally couldn’t make herself do something so dangerous. Other than some druid spells, she had no way of defending herself. She had opened a path by talking to the sharks, it was up to someone else to do the brave part and get inside, and maybe lower the drawbridge.

Looking back, she saw Great Grandma Henriksson. She didn’t know who she was, but it was unusual to see such an old woman hobbling along as men rushed past either side of her. Sally stood up and was about to help her to cover when a flurry of arrows came overhead. She disappeared under the arrows, and once the arrows had passed, only her walking stick remained. It had sunk into the soil and sprouted a single flower, which attracted a single bee.

Sally began to hyperventilate. She had no idea why she was here. Was death really better than living in fear? She could hear her heart beating between her ears and slapped her cheeks. She pushed her glasses back up on her nose and whispered a prayer to herself.

Magnus and Richard had followed closely behind Sally. When the shark came up in the water Magnus did not dare to hesitant as he used it as a means to cross to the other side followed closely behind by Richard. Magnus looked back to see Sally stunned by losing loved ones and his hand started to raise up to reach out and console her, but he bit his tongue. This was a battlefield, there was no time for mourning. Not now. Turning back to the direction that Richard had went. He noticed the man had wasted no time sneaking off to a 'quiet' part of the battlefield.

Though one could only use such a term vaguely at best. It was a battle zone after all. At least this spot near the massive remains of a splintered oak tree provided some basic cover from gun fire. As Magnus caught up to Richard he reached out and touched Richard. They were both wearing carefully prepared clothing that had been laced with seeds. Magnus felt his mana nearly bottom out as the seeds began to germinate on both of their outfits. Giving them the appearance of grassy, mossy Ghillie suits. Huddling close to the tree and being ever so still and quiet. This duo had been given a very specific mission.

Magnus carefully snacked on a piece of jerky with the aim to try and help his mana replenish as Richard reached out into the hollow of the large tree and the earth his hand touched began to decompose allowing the shovel in his other hand easy purchase. They had been tasked with digging a tunnel that would reach to the other side allowing troops to funnel in much easier. It was one hell of a gamble though. As they often found themselves having to stop and lay still as enemy soldiers ran by randomly.

If the rebels listened to instructions, they would ignore this place as much as possible to allow these two's work to not have to constantly look over their shoulders. Magnus would dig and Richard would decompose the soil between his digging. As Magnus got mana back, he would cause the dirt to sprout grass to try and make the mounds of dirt less noticeable.

Matti Lalli, also known as Uncle Lalli, cursed under his breath as he saw his nephew be dragged under the moat's water. The boy was never the brightest bulb in the house. However, he was shocked as he saw the beast be tamed by magic from Sally. Damn, there's more of these witches. Whatever, now's our chance! He thought as he traversed over the shark. "Thank ye, Sally lass! Now let's give these bloodeh bastards a lesson!" Like Great Grandpa, he also worked in the mines, and worked some of the machinery. He taught the younger family in his clan about how the drawbridge would work: if he failed to lower it in this battle he wouldn't be the only one as he took his rifle and charged in, paying no attention to the hole diggers. "FRREEDOOM!"

Viivi Lalli followed after the older man, also holding a rifle in her shaky hands. Unlike Uncle, she did pay a quick glance to the digger duo, only to sigh and resume her attention on backing up her kinsman in their assault. Though she never admitted it, the blonde young lady had feelings for Richard. The two of them would likely die at this keep today. But at least she fought for love.
"Hiyaaah!"

Sally was shaken out of her trance by Matti. While she was vaguely familiar with the Lalli family, it wasn’t like she personally knew every member. Though it seemed like he knew who she was. Had Kaapo perhaps told him about her? Suddenly, a different type of fear crept into her chest. If this siege failed, then everyone who gave their lives would have done so for nothing. Moreover, the survivors would be in the same predicament that they were in before all this started, if not worse. Now wasn’t the time to be having doubts. When Viivi crossed over, so did she.

The hole diggers, Magnus and Richard, would encounter their first issue a bit earlier than expected however. While they were able to soften the stone foundation into digable dirt, the bigger issue was the altitude of Fort Silver Myth. The salt water moat led right out to see and, naturally, was level with the ocean. Since they were on the other side of the moat, they would need to find a way to dig under it without the whole thing caving in. Could they even complete such a project in a timely fashion?

Meanwhile, the Lallis and Sally made their way inside. There were a few guards scrambling around, but Matti wasn’t going to get distracted. He locked his rifle on the first chain and fired, causing it to snap. The drawbridge leaned a little bit, but it was still held up on its far corner. He aimed at the last chain, and so too did the stair guard aim at Matti. It was the same one who smiled as Kaapo was dragged under.

Sally wasn’t sure what to do. She had no weapons, but maybe she could take a shot for the others who actually brought a gun. She stood up and extended her arms, but she was shoved out of the way. Viivi had her rifle tucked under her arm and fired at him. Unlike Kappo’s pistol round, this was enough to go all the way through the guard’s armor. As he fell, he managed to spray a few rounds at Viivi as well. She took a few of them, but none of them hit uncle Matti.

“Not you too!” Sally rushed up to Viivi, but there was nothing she could do. But it was fine. She had made her choice already. Perhaps when the goddesses invited her into the heavens, she and Richard could be together for all eternity. But there wasn’t much time to grieve. More guards would be here shortly.

Just not before Matti made his second shot.

The drawbridge fell with a clatter. A single machine gun nest was hardly enough to keep reinforcements at bay, and soon they began spilling inside. So what if their enemies had automatic weapons? They overwhelmed them with numbers. But to really let everyone in, they would need to clear the battlements. Sally picked up Viivi’s rifle, and with Matti, they entered the right side of the battlements. The only side that still had a functioning turret.

With extra rebels entering the keep, the archers were starting to scramble. While few things were as demoralizing as a cloud of arrows, they were not useful they were not useful when the fight was brought to you. Something Chase was painfully aware of.

“Wie!” Chase pointed at the approaching rebels, but not nearly enough of them died under his divine might. The machine gun next turned its attention onto the battlements themselves and started to fire. There weren’t that many archers left, but so long as it had ammo, Chase would be able to stay alive! “Keep shooting at these motherless hamsters!”

There wasn’t much to hide behind. Sally could see the rebels in front of her dropping like flies. She’d be among them shortly if she didn’t take cover, but she chose to aim Viivi’s rifle at the turret nest. She didn’t have long to aim, but the world seemed to slow down. There were five heads in front of her, then two, then she felt a pain in her abdomen. That was when she fired. Sally stumbled backwards. Against the battlement’s outer wall. She coughed, and blood flew out of her mouth. Welp, this was the end. It seemed like her hearing was starting to go too, as she couldn’t hear the turret fire anymore.

But that was just because it wasn’t firing anymore.

Chase stepped out from behind the turret. He peered inside, only to see that the turretier had been shot dead. When he looked ahead, the only one up on the battlements with him was Matti, who had his rifle ready.

“Ah…” Chase smiled and slipped a hand into his pocket. “You wouldn’t shoot an unarmed man, would you? I’m a pacifist! I haven’t killed a single man since I entered the queen’s employ! Hehe!” He moved a little closer to the turret, but was still in no position to get inside. “Go ahead! Finish your little um, rebelion! I’ll just stay up here and continue not hurting anyone. Oh! And once you elect a new leader, I’ll be sure to kiss their ring!”

Uncle Lalli grunted as he was shoved aside by Viivi in an awkward stumble, his eyes wide as he saw her get shot down mercilessly by the loyalist taking position at the stairs in a freak accident. It was a dear loss, but one the middle-aged man begrudgingly accepted. The mission to open the way was accomplished, the slamming of the heavy wooden bridge a sign of defiance. He had shed enough tears for the atrocities committed against not only his clan, but his homeland: after seeing his own son perish in his arms. Even when Sally was the next to bleed, he did not turn his eyes away from the despicable coward who attempted pleading for his life.

The man had seen good people beg for their lives before, groveling for the smallest scraps of charity, only to get kicked in the curb and left to waste away like roadkill. And this man, if he could even be called one at this point, was just like the rest of them, lifting a hand up to deceive, when the other was drawing a hidden gun. "Spring of cunts!" He yelled, and pulled the trigger.

Passing through the drawbridge was yet another member of the Henriksson family, a scrawny teenager with thick glasses and a pencil neck named Gustaf. He was no fighter, but as his family swore an oath to fight against the queen, he was forced to comply. He hoped he could hang back and let the other rebels push ahead, but soon found himself swept up with the mob as a moment of silence fell on the battlements from the constant belching of gunpowder. If any guards came in their way, he would cast an Ice Knife, conjuring a sharp icicle that would be thrown like a spear. It was not particularly devastating, but it was better than most downtrodden mages were capable of when it came to offensive sorcery.

Chance's smile vanished as Matti Lalli uttered the favorite phrase of the late Davis Lalli. As the tip of his rifle zeroed in for a killing shot, Chance pulled his hand put of his pocket. There was no gun, knife, or any weapon at all. Just an empty hand with a mind filled with fanatical belief behind it. He shoved his finger in Matti's direction just as he fired. But while uncle Lalli's rifle lit up the battlements with a muzzle flash, nothing came out of Chance's finger. Not lighting, fireballs, or his queen's divine power. Furthermore, nothing happened to Matti as he stood there in perfect form. But something did happen to Chance. He stumbled backwards into turret and clamped his hand over his neck. He couldn't stem the bleeding. His eyes remained focused on Matti. He opened his mouth to speak, but he sounded like a wrath. Chance hadn't even died yet and he already sounded like one of their number.

As his strength failed, he stumbled over to the turret. He attempted to grab a hold of the barrel to steady himself, but the turret swung and he was thrown into the balcony. It was made of brick and waist-height for the archers to fire over, but it proved to be a tripping hazard for the commander. He fell off the edge and tumbled several stories into the jaws of a waiting shark. After a single bite, the only thing that was left of him was his stupid hat, which floated in the air before landing in the salty waters below.

“Heh!” Sally looked over he shoulder. “I was able to make good on my promise to the shark.” With a sigh, she relaxed her shoulders and allowed herself to fall back against the balcony. “Wow, watching everyone enter the castle is really something... I wish Kaapo and Boston had gotten to see it.” Her eyelids fluttered. “I'll... I'll have to tell them about it when I see them.” And then her eyelids fluttered shut for the last time.

There was nothing left for Uncle Lalli to do here. He needed to find the goddess.

That was what everyone was concerned with.

The keep hosted many horrors, from corrupted adventurers to twisted beings of the blood witch's design. But against such numbers, they would all fall in time. Gustaf Henriksson had little difficulty advancing with the growing mob. As they split up to explore the keep, Gustaf focused on getting to the Tower of Eternity. The goddesses location could be anywhere, but there were rumors that she was being kept in a pocket dimension that housed a giant tower that the rumor was named after. Given its dimensional nature, the tower could be anywhere. But Gustaf believed he had discovered some interesting geometry where the keep could theoretically lead into a pocket dimension. There was a short silo located above the dungeon floors, which he set off to find in earnest. He was followed by several other rebels, Matti included.

Sure enough, there was a winding staircase that took the rebels far higher than the ceiling should have allowed. Most of the chambers were empty, as these were the sleeping quarters for all of Silver Myth Keep’s most important people. They were all out trying to control the expanding chaos.

Except for one.

At the top most floor, a woman stood in front of what appeared to be a lail door. While she was well groomed and dressed in the fine robes. There had been rumors that the blood witch had a sister, and this must have been her. But her hair was thin and her posture weak. As the rebels came into view, she dawned a crown made of antlers. The blood witch had been a social outcast and practiced her horrible magic in the woods, and artifacts such as this were said to have a connection to her if not the horrible god she gained her powers from.

The sickly woman drew a ritual blade and carved shapes into her flesh. Circles around her eyes and mouth, boxes and crosses along her arms. Some of them glowed, which might have meant that she hadn’t executed the ritual correctly. The illegitimate queen was a fearsome blood witch, but her sister was but a rumor. Was she even a true blood witch, or was she just using some ritual her sister taught her once should the unthinkable happen?

Regardless of the ritual’s execution, it was clear that she planned on opposing the rebels with her life. She lifted the door’s key to her lips and drew it inside her mouth.

Best to end this before she swallowed it.

An ice dagger flew through the air and struck the woman in the chest. With a cough, the key was thrown from her mouth and she stumbled onto her side. Bloodwitch or not, the woman would never move again. One of the rebels opened the door and they all marched through.

The room was massive. The walls of which seemed to recede on forever. There didn’t even appear to be a roof in this space. The only thing of note was a stone slab with a hauntingly beautiful woman laying on top of it. Everything from her long silver hair to skin that glowed like the moon fit the goddesses description. This was her. The madness would soon be over.

But not before one final conundrum.

The only rebels present were either from the Lalli or Henriksson families, which had very different ideas on how to move forward. With Gilla’s fate on the line and victory so close, what would ultimately become of the nameless goddess?

Gustaf shook, his outstretched hand still trembling after a chilling conjuration was launched from it, stopping the very last defender from preventing them from reaching his family's ancestral goal. But even as the mob of rebels cheered and patted the bespectacled bookworm, he could not feel joy at the act of murder he had committed against the blood witch's sister, who opposed them seemingly out of loyalty to one's family. Just like him.

Was this true justice?

Uncle Lalli pondered those words as he held Sally's hand, feeling the strength in her grip falter like melting snow in spring. The man he had executed was unarmed despite his doubts, an accusing finger instead drawn, as if in mockery.
He ran off, the barrel of his weapon leaving a thin wisp of smoke in a trail.
Soon, the rest of both the venerable Lalli clan and the distinguished Henriksson family congregated in the dark tomb of the cursed Goddess.
There was palpable fear in the air as both young and old people approached the altar. Gustaf was the first to reach the scene, and opened his book to read on notes he had taken of the Goddess. "So she is enchanted, just like the legends-" he was interrupted by Uncle Lalli elbowing him aside, causing the geeky youth to stumble and drop his glasses.

"Back off, ye rotters!" Uncle Lalli shouted, his visage one of wrath as he lifted his rifle, causing the Henrikssons to hesitate despite glowing fingers and mumbled incantations. The Lallis also lifted their guns, a bunch of small boys and girls following the example of their oldest surviving kinsman.

However, that was when a wrinkly old man with a long white beard slowly stepped forth, his bony fingers curled around the handles of a rollator, seemingly enchanted to help give him enough strength to stand despite shaking like a leaf. He must have been at least in his 80s if not 90s, a miracle in their world of death.

"Matti, I know how much pain and suffering you've witheld," Great Grandpa Henriksson spoke in a dry, wheezing voice. "But killing the Goddess won't bring what has been lost back, nor grant you the vengeance you seek. We have had enough good men and women give their lives."

"You call her good? This sodding bloodeh biatch?!" Uncle refuted, and now pointed his gun at the sleeping goddess' head. "She needs to die, or our sons and daughters died fer nothing! The nightmare won't end!" The ancient man could only shake his head. "No...We can wake her, and she will be our savior, Matti. You only need to believe."

For a moment, Uncle stared furiously at the crowd, and then back at the goddess. His finger crept closer to the trigger...And then the barrel was lowered.

"Bloodeh hell...It just ain't right. Fine. Wake her up." He stepped aside, letting Gustaf, now with the glasses sitting crooked on his face, begin the ritual to wake her.
"I just hope ye know what ye are doin'."

"I just hope ye know what ye are doin'."

Hope was about all anyone had left.

Perhaps the horrors of war had softened Uncle Lalli, or maybe a part of him wanted to believe like the rest of the Henriksson family. Either way, it was decided that the nameless goddess’s life would be spared. But this did raise one final complication; The ritual to awaken her from such a cursed slumber would not be over quickly. The fighting in Silver Myth Keep would continue, and every twelve hours, one of the witch queen’s boats would arrive to deliver supplies and fresh guards. If not stopped, they would learn of the keep’s fall, and would send reinforcements in time. The nightmare would persist for a little longer.

Many more would die, but in the following hours the keep was controlled by the rebels. Several days passed with the periodic blood queen ship showing up. The temptation was to try to take them out before they landed, but the more pragmatic approach was to let them dock and ensure none of the guards could report what happened. This fighting wasn’t as bad anyway. The rebels had taken many weapons and gained access to tomes filled with forbidden magic. Forbidden in the eyes of the blood queen at least. She had been careful to recover as many of Gilla’s arcane texts as possible. The machine gun nests had been moved to the back of the castle where they could do far more good against the guards, and the rebels even had a few skirmishes where they didn’t lose a single life.

After a few days the next ship missed it’s delivery time. Everyone knew what that meant. They had figured out something was wrong and were getting together to retake the keep. When the queen’s forces next appeared, it was an assault on all fronts. The sea, land, and even sky were filled with her forces.

The Henriksson magi surrounding the goddess had gotten little rest during the ritual. They had chanted and prayed well into the night, not even interrupting their ritual to eat or sleep. Some collapsed under the strain, and a fresh Magi took their place. In this way, Gustaf was unique. While he might not have been as experienced as some of the older mages, he had the vitality to see the ritual through.

Finally, the goddess sat up with a start. Her hand clutched her bed sheets as she gasped for breath. Her youthful features made her appear quite young, but her eyes betrayed that. She had seen many horrors, and despite her long slumber, she looked like she hadn’t slept for a very long time.

The silent goddess did not have a name that anyone knew. She was often just called the goddess or the nameless goddess, as she never spoke. Scripture was unclear on her role in the creation of the world, but she always made an appearance before times of prosperity.

As the queen’s forces closed in on the keep, they were met by an invisible barrier. Bombs from above, mortar shells from the sides, and cannon fire from the sea. Twelve high mages pooled their mana together to summon a meteor and dropped it on the barrier, only to watch as it was reflected back into the sky. The witch queen's forces realized they were too late and fled before the rebels could retaliate.

The goddess lowered her hand. Her breathing slowed and she looked at those that surrounded her. Strangers, but far friendlier faces then the one she saw before going to sleep. After taking in her surroundings, she placed her hands over her eyes and wept.

It was over.

The nightmare was over.

…

…

…

Elsewhere, the blood witch queen continued her campaign. There weren’t many cities left, and once she was done here she would have all the greater nations under her control. Then she could start conquering what was left of the lesser nations.

But the prospect bored her. With such resources at her disposal there was no reason to personally attend battle. That had been the case for a long time. While her mount laid waste to a hapless village, she thought back on how it all started. She had devised a cunning plan to weaken the silent goddess and inherit her powers. That was the most daring thing she had ever done. Even when she waged war on Gilla’s wicked queen, who would murder her parents simply for practicing blood magic, it paled when compared to the rush of laying a goddess low. She could still recall her frozen gaze before the blood witch placed her in an eternal nightmare. There was something inherently satisfying about defiling the pure. Perhaps that's why she liked conquests so much. Few things brought her as much pleasure as turning a perfectly functional society on its head. A smile crossed her face when she thought back on her childhood. Her sister often built little towns out of twigs, and the blood witch would always come by and knock them down. Her sister would ask her why she didn’t just make her own buildings to knock down, but it was pointless to explain. Surely her sister realized it was always more fun to tear down what someone else has built.

Before her massive army was a single soldier. One too young to call a man. He had a rifle in his hands, and a sword and shield on his back. Calipsa was not a wealthy nation; each guard carried a rifle with exactly five shots. After depleting them, they brought out their swords and shields to finish skirmishes. This lad thought he could actually shoot her. But no gun could hit her before she could hit them. The boy foolishly fired anyway. His bullet would never hit his target.

But after the shot, The blood beast howled.

The queen’s silver throne tipped side to side before sinking inside the blood beast. The creature’s blood ran off like a melting snowman, and the bones were left on the ground. In a matter of seconds, the illegitimate queen was laying in a pool of blood surrounded by the bones of things long dead. She was surprised, but not as much as the soldier that fired at her. She raised her hands in hopes of recovering the blood beast, but nothing happened. The flames that wreathed her form started to go out, and she was left cold and covered in blood.

What happened?

The soldier’s bullet certainly hadn’t done anything. The blood witch had set things up so that she couldn’t be beaten. The nameless goddess worked in dreams, so the queen's power hinged on keeping her in an eternal nightmare. The goddess’s nightmare became real through her magic, and assisted the queen on her conquests. Anything that could bring down the blood beast would have to be powerful enough to interfere with the goddess’s magic, but such things did not exist. The blood witch had defeated the silent goddess through guile. Had they had a traditional fight, she’d have surely been slain. She could have only lost the blood beast if the goddess was awakened or slain. Either the Gilla rebels finally gotten inside Silver Myth Keep, or her incompetent sister managed to botch things somehow. After thinking about it, her sister couldn’t screw something up so trivial. Such stupidity, while not wholly below her sister, was still unlikely. It had to have been the rebels doing, and she knew there was no way they awakened the goddess. The blood witch grinned when she tried to picture the goddess in her final moments, surrounded by those who should have been trying to protect her. They must have felt so conflicted when they realized killing her was the only way. Tho The people of Gilla could play the oppression card all they liked, but they were no different than her. She just happened to be wealthier and stronger than them. They would all rule just as she had if they were in her position.

The Calipsan soldiers drew closer, guns raised. Her own army had realized something was wrong. While the blood witch’s forces were impressive, they were all cowards. People who had decided it was better to comply than to resist. The idea that they may be in trouble destroyed their morale. The brave among the blood witch’s ranks struggled to get their men under control. Meanwhile, the smaller, yet determined Calipsan soldiers had been backed into a corner. Such simple creatures were practically forced to go forth. If she still had her powers, they would be dead already. Now they knew something was wrong too.

The blood witch could tell they weren’t going to kill her, even if they wanted to. They would capture her. The people of Calipsa were known for their empathy and compassion towards their enemies. They would make an example out of her for sure, but she would be shown mercy if she returned what she conquered back to the people and disbanded her new world order. She might be allowed to live a humbled, yet comfortable life in a Calipsan monastery.

What a despicable existence.

Even without the power of the goddess’s nightmares, the witch queen’s powers were still potent. She cast her hand forward and the pool of blood behind her turned into a salvo of blood arrows. The Calipsan soldiers all fired on reflex. Hundreds of metal pellets soared past the witch queen, but even more hit their mark. Her beautiful cloak was turned to rags in an instant. Her marble white skin ruptured and tore in irreparable ways. Her teeth, the ones that hadn’t been shot out of her head, were stained red with her blood. Her spell failed before it could reach her targets, and she collapsed onto her back. She couldn’t feel her legs, and knew she’d never stand again.

As her strength faded and her senses dimmed, Her gaze was cast towards the open sky. If she could have conquered a bit longer, maybe she’d have taken to the skies to do battle with the gods that resided there. But ultimately, she decided she was satisfied with what she was able to accomplish. Historians would be writing books about her until time itself ceased to function. She was a legend in the making, and no one would ever truly forget about her. If she were ever reincarnated perhaps she would have the chance to try again.

"Thanks everyone. Until next time."

the blood witch could hear footsteps approaching, but couldn’t tell if it was her own men or the Calipsan soldiers. But as her vision of the sky faded to black, perhaps it didn’t matter. With the last of her fading strength, she curled her lips into a smile. And that was the last thing Gilla’s illegitimate queen did. Her reign had finally ended.

…

…

…

Without the queen to manage her dark empire, it quickly crumbled. Over a number of months, the last remnants of her armies were put to death. Many of the territories she controlled were able to liberate themselves. But the world had been greatly affected by the blood witch and wouldn’t be going back to normal any time soon. Yet the present was becoming more bearable. The newly in power were able to direct their countries in a direction that best served their people.

In Gilla, the blood witch had wisely destroyed the royal family to ensure her rule was unchallenged. For a time, the Silent Goddess was made leader. But she quickly helped build a new government and left her post to the new prime minister. Through the ages she has been sighted around the world, and continues to be a good omen wherever she shows up. It is believed that the world’s gradual recovery from the blood witch’s reign is largely due to her influence.

History would remember the blood witch’s effect on the world more than her individual conquests. No history book bears her name, and treats her rule as a cataclysmic event that should be forgotten. Everyone who served her was put to death, and the forest she grew up in was razed to the ground. Her story lives on as a cautionary legend about a covetous witch who used the nameless goddess’s power to acquire the world. Like she suspected, she will never be forgotten, but she won’t be remembered with a great amount of clarity.

The world will never return to normal. But if things keep moving in the right direction, peace and prosperity would be attainable for a time.

Silver Myth Keep was turned into something of a tourist attraction. Through careful use of divination magic and traditional sculpting, every soul that was lost that day was immortalized as a statue. Everyone’s statue was placed where they had died, though there were a few embellishments. Great Grampa Lalli, while he rode on a motorcycle, was depicted riding a rocket straight into the fort’s walls. Apparently that was what he had originally wanted to do, but the blood witch had made it near impossible to do such a thing. Kaapo Lalli had his pistol aimed at a guard, who appeared to be collapsing after the shot landed. Though Kaapo was heroically posed in the jaws of a shark and using his legs to keep its jaws open. Viivi Lalli was posed dying in Richard’s arms, having just opened the draw bridge for everyone else. Great Grandma Henriksson’s beehive had been instrumental to stopping the machine gun fire, and so she was carved out being full of vitality. She stood upright, back and legs straight, with her staff transformed into a giant sunflower. Boston Jones was also there, cheering on Kaapo while his truck shielded everyone from gunfire, and Sally Dallas was up on the battlements landing the killing shot on the gunner. Even the forces of Silver Myth Keep were immortalized, if less favorably. Chase was depicted, suitably, as a cowardly individual. But he was sculpted jumping off the battlements out of fear, with a hungry shark waiting below him. Though perhaps the most egregious example of embellishment was the blood witch’s sister. She was depicted as a tall, shapely, seductive vixen. And rather than boldly standing her ground, she was depicted fleeing the room, with a dagger sticking out of her back. It was a slightly controversial piece, but few would complain about the sister of a treasonous dictator being depicted that way. Some say the dagger in her back is from how she was betrayed by the blood witch rather than an attempt to paint her as a coward.

Perhaps the most gripping piece was the one done in the sleeping goddess’s cell. While every statue at Silver Myth Keep was erected to remember those that died, the ones here were done to remember the feud and its resolution between the Lalli and Henriksson families. Unlike the rest of the keep, there was little embellishment here. The tense standoff between Uncle Lalli and Great Grandpa Henriksson was on full display, with all the other family members present. Uncle Lalli had just lowered his gun, with Gustaf trying to wake the goddess. The only alteration to the scene was that they corrected Gustaf’s crooked glasses to suit the mood better.

While it is always good to remember the past, one must not forget to take steps towards the future. There will be plenty of trials and tribulations to keep the world busy on its road to recovery.

Another tale for another time, perhaps…