Mother of Midnight

Chapter 151 – Burnstick

“Alisaria is dead,” Kaelen’s voice cut through the silence with the weight of a prophecy fulfilled. The words hung in the air, a bitter truth that settled over them like a shadow. He met Darius’s piercing gaze without flinching, though there was something in his eyes that betrayed the gravity of the news. “She failed in her task.”

Darius, the towering Sentinel of Praxus, stood motionless for a moment, his face unreadable. The silence stretched between them, and then his booming voice echoed, thick with disbelief. “How do you know?”

Kaelen exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as he gathered the thoughts that had been swirling in his mind ever since the dream. “Praxus told me in my dreams.” His voice wavered for a moment, a rare slip, before he continued. “She was tricked. She was sent to handle the second son of Serkoth, alone. But the deceiver... convinced her to join her on this task.”

Darius’s brow furrowed deeply, confusion flashing across his features. “She is no fool. How was she tricked?”

“I…” Kaelen’s usual calm mask cracked for a brief moment, frustration seeping through his otherwise composed demeanor. He clenched his fists, as if the answers he sought had been withheld just out of his reach. “I do not know. Praxus did not reveal that to me.” His voice became quieter, more measured, as if the weight of the unknown burdened him further. “All I know is that she failed. And in the end, she died... to Akhenna’s beast.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with loss. Darius’s hands twitched, his fingers gripping the hilt of his massive blade as though it might crack under the pressure. His expression darkened, and the muscles in his jaw tightened, the storm inside him gathering.

“I will hunt down this sneak that dares pretend to be a champion of his most glorious father.” Darius’s voice boomed with fury, raw and untamed, the rage of a warrior scorned.

Kaelen raised a hand, palm outward, his voice quiet but commanding. “No.” His gaze was firm, unyielding. “Praxus would have you lead this army across Greyreach Pass. We distract the animals of Serkoth while Entheris and Nythara take the northern pass.”

Darius’s stormy expression faltered for only a moment, but it was enough to see the conflict brewing behind his eyes. Alisaria had been a constant in their ranks, a force of unwavering strength and devotion to Praxus. Her absence, so sudden and violent, left a hole that no one could fill.

“Alisaria was meant to join us for this battle,” Darius said quietly, a heaviness in his tone that betrayed more than simple disappointment. “Her loss will be felt far.”

“I know,” Kaelen said, the pain in his voice reflecting the weight of his own grief. “Her absence leaves a gap we cannot easily fill. But we cannot falter. The battle still looms. Praxus’s will does not bend because of one death. We must press forward.”

There was a long silence before Kaelen spoke again, his voice almost reverent. “Do not despair, Darius. Praxus revealed one more thing to me.” He paused, watching the Sentinel carefully. “He is forging a new champion. One far more powerful than before.”

Darius’s gaze softened slightly, though his hand still clutched his blade tightly, a sign that the storm within him was not yet over. “A new champion…” He repeated the words under his breath, his voice tinged with both skepticism and hope. “But will this new champion be ready in time?”

Kaelen’s expression was unreadable, a mix of solemnity and certainty. “Praxus is not one to reveal his plans lightly, but if he says it is so, then we must trust it. In time, this new champion will rise, and they will carry us to victory.”

Darius’s lips pressed into a thin line, his mind working through the possibilities, the loss of Alisaria still heavy in his heart. “We fight for Praxus,” he said, his voice a vow. “And we will make sure this enemy feels the full force of his wrath.”

Kaelen’s gaze lingered for just a moment longer on Darius, watching the imposing figure of the Sentinel as he thumped his chest, rallying the men with his powerful voice. “For the glory of Praxus!” The words were sharp, resolute, the cry of a warrior ready to charge into battle. But Kaelen didn’t share in the same fervor. He didn’t need to.

“For the glory of Praxus,” Kaelen echoed, his tone softer, more composed. He bowed his head briefly, a sign of respect, though his thoughts were far from the battlefield. He watched Darius’s retreating figure, feeling the weight of the responsibility he carried, the burden of what was to come. Darius was loyal, strong, driven by a burning desire to please Praxus. But loyalty was a double-edged sword, and Kaelen had long known that it could be twisted, turned into something far darker.

As Darius disappeared from view, Kaelen turned away, his expression hardening into something more inscrutable. He did not follow the others. Instead, he made his way to his personal tent, his mind already slipping into darker thoughts.

Inside the tent, the flickering light of a single candle cast long shadows on the walls, the space unusually quiet. Kaelen closed the flap behind him with a soft sigh, momentarily allowing himself a breath of solitude. He took a seat at the small desk cluttered with papers, maps, and trinkets of his own making—symbols, runes, and other reminders of the power that pulsed beneath his skin.

His fingers traced the intricate designs on the papers before him, each stroke deliberate, as if the patterns themselves held a weighty decision. Darius and Entheris had been invaluable—towers of strength, undying loyalty—but loyalty alone could no longer sustain them. Their time had passed. Praxus’ ambitions had grown, and now, he needed a sharper tool. The champions, though strong, were reaching the limits of their usefulness. Their power had begun to outshine their purpose.

Darius and Entheris would not be allowed to become a threat to the greater plan. Their next battles would be their last, after they had played their parts to the full. As Praxus had ordered, they would fall in their final campaigns, nothing more than casualties of progress.

He drew out his wand and focused, conjuring a spell nexus that shimmered with dark elegance, a web of intricate design that seemed to hum with power. “Il cem tate ae meccaeje, ateaerr me aem olbewh.” The words lingered in the air, and with them, the spell began to unfold—complex, flawless, a signature of his will.

"Send out six assassins. Three each. Target the champions. They must perish in their respective campaigns, after fulfilling their purpose. This is for Praxus’ will."

The spell nexus folded in on itself, collapsing into a point of nothingness before vanishing entirely. The lingering hum of arcane energy faded, leaving behind an uneasy stillness. With a weary sigh, he lowered himself onto the edge of his cot, the thin mattress creaking beneath his weight. He rubbed his temples absently, his mind turning over the risks again and again.

Would the assassins be enough? He wasn’t certain. Praxus’ champions had never been paragons of strength; that much was evident. It was why they were marked for death—too weak to stand beside his most glorious father. Still, they were champions, and that title carried with it an undeniable resilience. Underestimating them would be a mistake, one that could unravel everything. Champions rarely went down quietly, and Praxus’ would be no exception.

Akhenna’s beast haunted his thoughts next. Mere months old, barely a whelp by the standards of its kind—and yet, it had accomplished something that few even dared to dream of. Killing Alisaria wasn’t a victory to be taken lightly. The thought sent a chill through him, his hand pausing mid-motion as he considered the implications. A creature that could slay Alisaria couldn’t be dismissed as an ordinary beast, regardless of its youth.

These issues would cease to be a problem soon enough. Praxus was creating a new champion. One whose strength would know no bounds. The ultimate speartip for Praxus’ will.

And Kaelyn could not wait to serve.

“Come on! I wanna show you!” Kivvy urged, tugging insistently at Vivienne’s claw as she dragged her toward the workshop. Her eagerness was infectious, each step quick and purposeful. She had several bandages wrapped around her arms and one on her head.

Vivienne chuckled softly, allowing herself to be led. “I am coming, Kivvy. You’ve been hard to track down this week. We’ve barely seen you. Also you are covered in wounds.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy!” Kivvy said, glancing back with a wide grin. “You didn’t give me much to work with, so I had to improvise—and that meant a whole lotta trial and error until I nailed it.”

Vivienne’s lips curled into a teasing smile. “And those explosions we heard earlier? That was part of your ‘nailing it,’ I take it?”

“Yup! Can’t do good artifice without cracking a few bones!” Kivvy declared proudly, her voice carrying the tone of someone who genuinely believed in her own chaotic process.

Vivienne raised an amused brow. “I can see that.” Vivienne giggled. “Pretty sure the saying goes, ‘You can’t make an omelette without cracking a few eggs.’”

Kivvy tilted her head, one ear twitching in confusion. “What’s an omelette? Eh, never mind—we’re here!” She darted ahead and shoved the door open with both hands, practically bouncing with excitement.

Vivienne stepped inside, her eyes immediately scanning the transformed space. The once neatly organized workshop had descended into what could only be described as an intricate mess. Tools lay scattered across workbenches and the floor, half-finished devices buzzed faintly with aetheric energy, and scraps of metal glinted under the dim light. What had once been a space of precision was now chaotic yet alive, every surface seemingly brimming with potential.

To anyone else, the clutter would have been maddening, but Vivienne could see that Kivvy thrived in this environment. The goblin moved effortlessly through the disorder, ducking under cables and stepping around scattered parts as if she knew the exact location of every item.

“Looks like things have gotten a bit more… lively since my last visit,” Vivienne commented, her eyes lingering on a particularly scorched section of wall.

Renzia followed quietly behind, her canvas-textured skin shifting slightly in tone as she absorbed the dim light of the room. Words began to form across her arm in dark ink-like letters, emerging in her usual fluid style. “And somehow, it hasn’t burned down yet.” She turned her head toward Vivienne, her eyes briefly gleaming with dry amusement.

“Hey!” Kivvy shot back, wagging a wrench in their direction. “I’ll have you know that’s controlled chaos. I know exactly where everything is… mostly.”

She hurried over to her main workbench, where a peculiar weapon rested on a polished stand. “Check it out!” she said, gesturing with obvious pride.

Vivienne approached, crouching slightly for a better look. It was unmistakably a bolt-action rifle, but scaled down to match Kivvy’s size. The weapon gleamed with finely polished metal and wood, and intricate etchings ran along its barrel, glowing faintly with a soft blue light. However, it was clear that this wasn’t a normal firearm—something about the cylindrical chamber in front of the magazine had caught her eye. Inside, faint tendrils of energy swirled, flickering and pulsing like captured lightning.

Vivienne frowned slightly, old memories stirring. “I’ve never been much of a fan of guns… not after the third world war,” she muttered, a hint of bitterness slipping into her voice. She shook it off quickly, focusing on the present. “But this… this doesn’t look like a typical rifle. What exactly is it?”

Kivvy beamed, practically vibrating with excitement. “This, my dear Vivienne, is Burnstick! Instead of firing boring old bullets, it launches concentrated bursts of aetheric energy. Took me forever to stabilize the containment field, but I finally got it. You’re looking at precision artifice!” She punctuated her words with a flourish, clearly reveling in her accomplishment.

Vivienne raised a brow and chuckled. “That is definitely a name you would come up with. ”Vivienne leaned closer, inspecting the weapon more carefully. “So, it’s an energy weapon. That sounds… volatile.”

“Oh, it totally is!” Kivvy said cheerfully, her voice brimming with excitement. “But don’t worry—I added a regulator to keep things from getting too... explosive. Unless, of course, you want it to get explosive. If you take the regulator off, things’ll get very exciting, very fast.”

Vivienne’s lips spread into a grin, her sharp teeth catching the light. “You’re very cute when you get this excited.”

Kivvy blinked, a hint of nervousness creeping into her expression. “You… you know you sound like you’re about to eat me, right?” she said with a cautious gulp.

Vivienne tilted her head slightly, letting the silence stretch just long enough to be unnerving before responding, “So, what does it shoot?” Her tone was entirely calm, as though the previous exchange hadn’t happened.

Kivvy swallowed hard and turned back to the rifle, eager to move on. “Right, so, this bit here,” she pointed to a cylinder near the weapon’s chamber, “is where you load an aether gem. Whatever type of aether’s in the gem, that’s what the rifle fires. And this part here—what you called a magazine—it’s filled with cooling rods. After each shot, you pull back the bolt, which ejects a rod to keep the chamber from overheating, then push it forward to load the next one.”

Vivienne whistled softly, clearly impressed. “I didn’t expect you to figure out something this advanced in just a week. That’s some damn fine work, Kivvy.” She leaned in closer, eyeing the intricate mechanism. “I’d love to see it in action.”

“Yeah? Great! Let’s head to the training yard— Rava said I can practice on things there!” Kivvy said, already turning toward the door with a spring in her step.

The training yard was dimly lit, with only a few lanterns casting pools of orange light across the cold stone floor. Targets were scattered around for soldiers to practice with—some were simple wooden dummies, others reinforced metal plates, some were dented and scarred from countless tests and trials. Kivvy led them to an open area near the center, her excitement palpable.

“I loaded it with a basic dawn gem,” Kivvy explained, holding up the rifle as they approached. “It’s nothing crazy, but it should give you a good idea of what it can do.”

Vivienne folded her arms, her tail flicking lazily behind her. “Go on then, show me.”

Kivvy braced the rifle against her shoulder, took careful aim at one of the metal plates about twenty paces away, and pulled the trigger. A sharp crack echoed through the yard as a bolt of light shot forth, slamming into the target. The metal plate glowed red-hot at the point of impact, a faint wisp of smoke rising from its surface.

Quickly, Kivvy pulled back the bolt, and a glowing rod clattered to the ground, hissing slightly as it cooled. She pushed the bolt forward again, readying the next shot. “See? Fires clean, and the cooling rods keep it from melting down. I even tested it without the regulator, it overheated in three shots, but with it, I can fire ten before I even feel any heat in the chamber.”

Vivienne strode over to inspect the plate, running a claw across the scorched surface. “Solid hit. Clean burn. And it didn’t even crack the plate.”

“Yup! And if you wanna get really crazy, you can swap the gem for something stronger or mess around with aether combos,” Kivvy said, her grin widening. “Oh, and if you take the regulator off, well…” She let out a small laugh. “Things get a lot more interesting.”

Vivienne shot her a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Interesting as in spectacular explosions, or interesting as in something else entirely?”

“Both!” Kivvy chirped, her voice brimming with pride and excitement. “But don’t worry, I’ve only had it explode twice during testing.”

Vivienne’s grin widened, her tone teasing. “Pretty sure it was at least four times, little Kivvy.”

“Bah, who’s counting?” Kivvy waved a hand dismissively, clearly unfazed by the remark. “Anyway, whaddya think?”

Vivienne leaned in, examining the rifle with a more critical eye. The craftsmanship was impressive—rough in some places, sure, but nothing about it felt fragile or haphazard. The metal gleamed faintly with residual aether energy, and the cooling mechanism looked both clever and reliable. “I think,” she said slowly, “if this thing can take down an aetherbeast, you might just earn a place with us in the field. What’s its range?”

“Oh, uh…” Kivvy scratched the back of her head, looking sheepish. “Dunno exactly. I only had these practice targets for testing. But I can shoot from across the yard and hit the target most of the time! I’m not a very good shot yet, but it’s pretty accurate. It might beat a crossbow?”

“Might?” Vivienne echoed with a smirk. “Well, we’ll have to test that claim when we head out on that trip. Shouldn’t be too hard to find something worth shooting at.”

“Yeah!” Kivvy’s eyes lit up at the prospect of field testing. “I’ve got a bunch of spare magazines prepped for when things get busy, but the cool part is, I don’t need to carry too many. I can reload the cooling rods back into the magazines once they’ve cooled down.”

Vivienne arched an eyebrow. “Each rod lasts for how long exactly?”

Kivvy hesitated, giving a slightly awkward smile as she held up her bandaged left arm. “Well… I thought they’d last indefinitely if I just cycled them out properly, but turns out they shatter eventually if you overuse ‘em. Found that out the hard way.”

Vivienne’s gaze flicked to the bandage, and a trace of concern crept into her voice, though she hid it well behind her usual casual tone. “Overuse, huh? Guess that’s why you’ve been holed up in here all week.”

“Yeah. Had to run a lot of tests. It’s fine, though! Just means I’ll have to carry enough rods to swap ‘em out before they get brittle.” Kivvy flexed her fingers, as if to prove she was perfectly fine, though Vivienne didn’t miss the wince that flickered across her face.

“You’ve done well. I’m thoroughly impressed by your work,” Vivienne said, her tone laced with genuine admiration. “Honestly, so far, goblins have only impressed me.”

Kivvy blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sincerity. “Really? How many of my sisters have you met?”

“Just a couple. They don’t seem to be the most common sight around here,” Vivienne replied, folding her arms thoughtfully. “There’s one who runs a bookstore in the city. I introduced a few ideas to her—things that probably sounded insane at the time. But now… I’m starting to think only goblins would have the ingenuity or sheer nerve to turn those ideas into reality.”

“That impressed, huh?” Kivvy said, grinning wide, her chest puffing up just a little with pride.

“Yes.” Vivienne’s black eyes gleamed as she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. “I gave you a vague concept to work with, and look what you’ve achieved. Do you realize what this means? How much this is going to revolutionize warfare? The sheer consequences?”

Kivvy’s grin faltered for a second. She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words, something rare for her.

Vivienne pressed on. “Once someone figures out how to replicate your design, it’s only a matter of time before others follow. Then another, and another. Wars will get far bloodier for a time. Entire battlefields could change because of weapons like yours.”

Kivvy rubbed the back of her neck, clearly unsure how to feel about that. “Uh, I was kinda just thinking of making something that goes boom real good.”

Vivienne chuckled softly. “Oh, it goes boom real good, all right. But if I were you, I’d think ahead. If it’s possible, consider adding enchantments to make the weapon safer in the wrong hands. Biometric…. Identity enchantments or something, so only the intended user can fire it. Maybe even a failsafe—something that causes the weapon to self-destruct if someone tries to tamper with it. I don’t know anything about this, I don’t know if it’s even possible.”

Kivvy’s eyes widened, her mind clearly racing at the possibilities. “Huh. That’s… kinda genius. If someone tries to reverse-engineer it, kaboom. They get a nice face full of shrapnel and no new fancy toy to play with.”

“Exactly.” Vivienne smiled faintly. “Think about it—if you can protect your design and make it hard for others to copy, you’ll stay ahead of the game. And trust me, staying ahead of the game is the difference between victory and disaster.”

Kivvy stared at her rifle thoughtfully, as though seeing it in a new light. “I think i could do something like that. I might need an enchanter to help though. The blowing-up part sounds tricky, but… I do like a good explosion.”

“Of course you do,” Vivienne said with a teasing smirk. “I think it’s in your blood.”

Kivvy grinned again. “Hey, explosions are just art in motion.”