Chapter 458 - The Traitor Chosen

I lost 1500 words of this chapter this afternoon because of a connection issue! I don’t think this has ever happened to me since Word got ve

I lost 1500 words of this chapter this afternoon because of a connection issue! I don’t think this has ever happened to me since Word got ve

I lost 1500 words of this chapter this afternoon because of a connection issue! I don’t think this has ever happened to me since Word got version history but it couldn’t be recovered this time… There is no worse feeling in writing!

Hump glanced over his shoulder, his breath catching at the sight of Count Daston.

The man was on one knee, struggling to rise. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, trailing down his chin to stain his chest. One hand clutched at his ribs, the other braced against the stone as he forced himself upright. His usually unshakeable poise was gone. His movements slow, deliberate, pained.

Hump had never seen the count wounded, let alone hurt so badly.

Yet a single, casual blow from Tobias Godfrey had done this. A blow so quick Hump hadn’t even seen it coming.

A blow that had been aimed at him.

Hump swallowed nervously. He was certain that he wouldn’t be shaking it off on the floor if it had found him. The thought chilled him to the core.

Nervously, Hump turned back to the Tree of Damnation. That same tension he felt seemed reflected in everyone around, all of them gripping their weapons tighter.

The flow of demons had slowed now that the area around the tree was filled. It seemed none dared to draw close to Godfrey. He stood calmly, surrounded by a golden halo that faintly pulsed. It lacked the serene divinity of a blessing now, yet it felt no less powerful. If anything, it was the strongest aura Hump had ever felt outside of Owalyn.

A ninth circle Chosen. A man only a single step away from the gods. The very air thickened in his presence.

He appeared young—much younger than the statues and paintings Hump had seen depicting him in the past. Perhaps thirty, and without even a wrinkle on his flawless skin. Hair like spun gold cascaded down his back, and his eyes could have been gold itself. He looked less like a man and more like a sculpture given life. Too perfect. Too clean.

Godfrey wasn’t even looking at them. His attention was on Warlock Anthony as he strolled toward Kassius. What was left of him, anyway.  He stood face to face with him, meeting the eyes of the prince, studying his face as he silently screamed.

Anthony came to a stop before him and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Look at you!” Anthony said wistfully. “I told you that you would transcend your wounded body, didn’t I? I know this isn’t exactly what you were promised but look at you! A glorious combination of my power and Lord Baelkor’s.”

For just a moment, something in Kassius’ expression shifted. Amid the raw torment, Hump saw fury return—pure, blazing hatred. The prince’s lips moved, soundless, as if cursing the man before him. It lasted only a few seconds. Then the pain overwhelmed him once more. The light of recognition faded. He went back to screaming without sound.

“I know, lad,” Anthony said. “No need to say it. Your sacrifice will help bring about the world we dream of. Know that your suffering is not for nothing.”

Hump felt sick.

“Godfrey!” Count Daston roared. “You dare to return to this city! You, who betrayed your people—your gods!”

Godfrey turned to the count.

Hump tensed, readying the Sphere of Protection enchantment on his staff. The only thing he thought might work against an attack of such strength. The problem was, while the barrier was supposedly impenetrable, it only lasted five seconds. He could only use it once.

“I did not betray my oaths, Benedict,” Godfrey snarled. “The gods betrayed me. Light betrayed me.”

He spat Lady Light’s name with such venom Hump could feel his fury in the air, prickling against his skin. The golden halo surrounding him dimmed, the edges bleeding into crimson. The light in his eyes deepened to molten fire.

“Can you not see yourself?”” Count Daston said, shaking his head. “You have fallen so far, you cannot see the light. Your power is stained, as are you. What is worth the countless innocents that will die for your betrayal?”

“The gods lied to us,” Godfrey said. “They lied to me. And now I will take what is owed.”

Godfrey gave an almost bored flick of his hand, essence gathering to him. It coalesced into his palm, a brightening orb of essence.

But Hump had been waiting for it. He stepped between Godfrey and the count and slammed the base of his staff against the stone. Sphere of Protection surged to life. A dome of emeral essence burst outward around them, snapping into place, formed from interlocking hexagonal panels.

The beam shot forward in a flash of light.

It took every ounce of will Hump possessed to hold his ground and trust in the enchantment in the face of such power. It struck with bone shuddering force. The ground trembled. Gold essence erupted from the point of impact, obscuring Hump’s view of the front, but the barrier held.

“Interesting,” Godfrey said, his voice calm as the Sphere of Protection dissolved into motes of green essence. “You carry a staff made from the core of a Tree of Damnation. You’re the one Baelkor spoke of—the one who burned the tree in Sheercliff.”

Hump swallowed hard. Well, that couldn’t be good.

“You’ve heard of me?” Hump asked.

Godfrey gave a nod. “I’m afraid so. I am sorry for the fate that awaits you.”

Hump’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Baelkor has plans for you,” Godfrey said, almost gently.

A pit dropped in Hump’s stomach. Whatever those plans were, they were obviously nothing good. Fortunately, that just made it easier to know what to do—avoid Baelkor at all costs.

Then something stirred at the edge of his consciousness—essence brushing lightly across his mind. On instinct, he almost retaliated, but he caught himself. He knew this essence. A heartbeat later, Aldric’s voice whispered in his mind.

“Keep him talking.”

Hump’s thought scrambled, his mind empty of things to say now that he was on the spot.

“Why do you care?” he spurted. “You’re leading an army of demons and standing beside warlocks. Your apology is meaningless.”

Godfrey’s eyes softened, almost mournfully. “Despite what Benedict believes, I don’t wish for our people to suffer. I only want what I am owed.”

“What you’re owed?” Hump asked, tone sharpening. “What does that even mean? Who owes you anything? I was born in the gutters of Elenvine. Am I owed something? What about the kids starving on those same streets right now? Are they?” He gestured to the blood-soaked courtyard, to the chaos. “You’ve lived a life of privilege. And now you’re burning everything down because you think you deserve more?”

“You are owed much as well,” Godfrey said without anger. “Every one of them is owed. They deserve a world where birthright means nothing. Where any man or woman might rise to the top. That is what they stole from us.” His voice grew tight, bitter. “I gave my life to Light. Centuries of service. And yet she denies me the final spark.”

Even as he spoke, Hump recognised the meaning in his words. The same line of truth given to him by Owalyn and written in the Book of Infinite Pages.

The gods had chained their potential with their blessings, and from the looks of it, now that Godfrey knew, he’d lost his mind. Or perhaps he’d been crazy from the start. He wouldn’t be the first Chosen Hump thought was insane.

From beside the rift, Anthony let out an impatient scoff. “Why do you humour them? We came for the Seal. Enough of this.”

Godfrey didn’t look at him. “It is not your place to question me, warlock.”

Anthony’s lips curled. “You’re a warlock now too, my friend. Do not pretend otherwise. Kill them—or I will.”

A sword of congealed blood formed in Anthony’s hand, humming with latent essence.

Behind Hump, Captain Halvon stepped forward, spear of essence in hand, readying to strike—

—but he was too slow.

A beam of gold light surged from Godfrey’s palm and struck him square in the chest. The world stilled for a heartbeat. Then Halvon crumpled. A perfect hole burned through his armour. Blood spilled freely. His body hit the stone with a sickening finality. A Sixth Circle Chosen, dead in an instant.

“No!” Prince Gregory’s scream broke through the stunned silence. “Halvon! Halvon!” He dropped to his knees beside him, shaking his shoulders.

But the captain was still. Lifeless.

“Kill them!” Prince Gregory roared, rising with fury burning in his eyes. “Hold the grounds! We must kill them here!”

The courtyard exploded into chaos.

Ballistae loosed bolts from the walls, tearing through demons as they surged through the rift. Arrows filled the sky. Blessings ignite, filling the air with divine radiance, while Aldric and the other wizards added their own spells to the mix.  Martial Chosen dashed into the fray, weapons alight with essence.

Count Daston stood and defended against the attacks that followed. He held nothing back, his blessings roaring. It was enough to resist a haphazarard attack from Godfrey, but it would not hold him for long.

The other warlocks and demons joined the chaos. Hump levelled his staff, taking aim with all the stone around him. He launched Rock Shot after Rock Shot into their ranks, trying to think their numbers. Now that they were moving, more demons emerged from the tree. Around him, Chosen were falling like flies. Their number of thirty had lost half a dozen already. Even as reinforcements arrived from the walls, the fight was going astray. Count Daston could resist at full strength, but he could not protect them all.

“What is that?” Celaine said, nodding at a spot behind them.

Hump turned, activating Spirit Sight. Essence was emerging from that point. A few seconds later, it was as if reality had cracked. A purple tear split the air, the opening quickening in a blaze of power—a portal forming from a type of essence that Hump recognised. A Chosen of Vesta. Reinforcements had come.

To his surprise, the ones who stepped through didn’t look like saviours. An elderly woman and an equally ancient man emerged from the portal, moving with a quiet gravity that hushed the battlefield. Lady Kaisura leaned heavily on a cane, each tap echoing through the courtyard like a funeral bell. At her side, Master Dorn shuffled forward, his staff barely supporting his hunched form.

“I prayed we would meet again Tobias,” Kaisura said.

There was a pained look on Godfrey’s face.

Godfrey’s golden halo dimmed slightly. A flicker of pain crossed his face. “Jennifer,” he murmured. “I didn’t think you survived. It seems that after all these years you can still surprise me.”

“You underestimate me still,” Lady Kaisura said evenly. “You will not have what you seek.”

“It isn’t too late,” Godfrey said, stepping forward. “Push aside your blessings, as I did. Walk with me. Take what you’re owed. Take what was stolen from you.”

“I did not come here to parley with a fool,” she replied, raising her chin. “I came to end this. Let us fight.”

Godfrey sighed and extended a hand. In a flash of golden light, a spear manifested, its length entirely made of metal, every inch covered in a magnificent array of runes. Its blade gleamed with divine energy, long enough to be a sword on its own, edged on both sides.

He took a step forward, body shimmering. Hump didn’t see him, but he sensed the movement that followed and turned to see him suddenly in front of Lady Kaisura, his spear buried in her stomach.

The courtyard fell silent, a collective breath caught in every throat.

But she did not fall.

Her hand snapped forward and seized the spear shaft. With a growl, she pulled Godfrey closer. He tried to retreat, but her grip was unshakable. She dropped her cane and reached out with her other hand to touch his cheek.

A ripple of power spread through him.

Godfrey flinched and jerked away, staggering back as if struck before disappearing in another flash, putting ten paces between him and Kaisura. His hand flew to his face, eyes wide. A faint crease had appeared where she’d touched, wrinkles lining one cheek.

“What did you do to me?” he hissed. “This isn’t your power.”

Kaisura wrapped her fingers around the embedded spear, and without a sound of pain, drew it from her gut. She dropped it to the ground with a heavy clang.

“It was only at death’s door that I understood,” she said. “There are two sides to life, Tobias. You made me realise that I have neglected the other.”

God glyphs spiralled across her skin—glowing emerald symbols of Emirai, the god of life, flaring with his power. But there was something else now. A balance against the usual warmth. Something colder. Something darker.

“I defeated you before. I shall do so again.”

“And last time,” came a wheezing voice, “she was alone.”

Master Dorn stepped beside her, even as the lines on his face deepened and shadows pooled beneath his eyes. His aura thickened into a shroud, darkness coiling around him like ocean mist. Bubbles of water rose from the cracked earth beneath their feet, pulsing upward in rhythmic bursts. His staff churned like a whirlpool.

Kaisura, by contrast, was changing. Her grey hair darkened to deep chestnut. Her wrinkled skin smoothed. Her form straightened. In seconds, she looked like her age had quartered. The wound in her belly vanished as if it had never been.

All at once, the battlefield erupted into conflict once more, and Hump was right at the centre of it. He backed away, what remained of their force forming up around Prince Gregory, Count Daston at the front. Demons swarmed them, and for the first time, Hump was almost happy for it. A few bodies between him and Godfrey were appreciated.

Beyond the demons, he saw flashes of the true fight. Felt them. The power of the most powerful two Chosen in recent memory as they clashed, along with a wizard that seemed capable of matching them.

A tug at Hump’s robes pulled him from the sight. Count Daston stood beside him, bloodied but unbowed.

“I need you to get the prince back to the palace.”

“What?” Hump said, startled. “No, the fight is here. This is where I should be.”

Daston’s hand landed firmly on Hump’s shoulder. “I do not ask because I doubt you. I ask because there is no one else. The prince must survive this. You must ensure that he does. Now go.”

Hump processed the man’s words for a few seconds. He glanced at Godfrey, Antony, the other gathered warlocks, and the demons. They were all that stood between all of that and Elenvine—all of that and innocent, defenceless people. But Prince Gregory had to be protected. If Hump didn’t do it, Count Dastard would have to do it himself.

He turned, grabbing Bud by the sleeve and nudging Dylan with his staff. Emilia and Celaine looked over instinctively.

“What’s happening?” Bud asked, eyes darting between Kaisura and the Tree.

“We’ve been ordered to get Prince Gregory out of here,” Hump said quickly. “Now.”

“But our fight—”

“I said the same thing. Orders are orders. Aren’t you the one that always says that? Now we need to move.”

The five of them rushed to the prince’s side amid the chaos.

“Prince,” Hump said. “We need to leave. Now.”

“I will not abandon my people!” Gregory shouted, sword drawn.

“This is about to become a battle between some of the most powerful beings in the kingdom,” Hump said, voice hard. “If you want to help your people, then live. Lead. Elsewhere.”

The prince looked like he might argue—but only for a moment. Then, with a short breath, he sheathed his sword.

“Where?”

Hump scanned the courtyard. Their access to the main gate was cut off by the tree. Demons poured through even faster now. It was chaos, and while they could perhaps fight their way through, it was impossible to control what might happen.

He turned back toward the armoury.

“Back through the tunnels,” Hump said.