Severa Book 2 (Chapter 10)

The remaining skirverns seemed to have flapped their wings more slowly. They now moved in a circle as the scent of their fallen kin carried on the aetheric currents. That was the annoying thing about skirverns: once one of their flock died, the rest went into revenge mode.

The one redeeming aspect, however, was that they came in flocks. A well-aimed, sustained spell could turn that instinct against them. Severa adjusted her grip on Embervein, letting the triumphant certainty swell through her veins.

She whispered the next mnemonics:

“Feed the flame on rivals three,
Strike as one, and bend the spree.”

She invoked the Invocation of Tri-Phoenix Shaping, Mark III.

The one clean aetheric arc from the dagger seceded into three; each tendril of flame blazed with that same blue core, tinged with flickers of green where her confidence surged strongest. They swept in perfect synchronization.

“Showmanship now, Severa?” Halveth’s voice came behind her.

The first arc struck a skirvern, searing through its scales with a flare of azure light. The second found another as it banked wide, The third arc met the final skirvern head-on, connecting with a crackling snap as the azure flames consumed its neck in a single strike. 

The chain kill had worked perfectly.

Halveth’s voice resounded behind her again, “Impressive, but keep an eye on your aether! There are still two more levels to clear, and I won’t carry you if you burn out here.”

The only word Severa registered was ‘impressive’.

The remaining skirverns scattered, shrieking in retreat as Severa and Halveth advanced through the Lowland Hollow. As she walked, Severa’s eyes scanned the ridges and basalt outcroppings

Her intuition whispered that something was lying in wait. The cavern’s ceiling soared impossibly high, lost in mist, but the basalt ridges and jagged outcroppings created sharp contrasts in light and shadow. Most of the skirverns’ movements threw chaotic, fleeting silhouettes, but here, some shadows lingered unnaturally, frozen in positions no creature should hold. A careful observer could see where the air had been compressed and displaced unnaturally, as if something solid waited silently in defiance of gravity.

An ambush.

Flames leapt from Severa’s palm with instinctive precision, radiating in a broad arc that forced the ambushers to reveal themselves. The hidden creatures recoiled at the extremely bright flare. She sent arcs of blue fire streaking through the space, tendrils of flame bending around outcroppings, cutting off retreat paths and dominating every angle. Sparks of confident green chased after the edges of her flames.

One creature lunged from a ledge, but Severa had anticipated it. A sweeping red flame carved through its motion. Another attempted to leap from a shadowed outcrop; a whip-like strike of fire intercepted it midair, leaving it smoldering. Two neutralized. One to go.

The third creature launched itself from a craggy overhang, dropping into the hollow: a wyvernkin sentinel. Its scales were darker, almost iridescent under the aetheric gloom, and thicker along the spine and shoulders—a natural armor that could shrug off a single blast. Its bipedal legs were long and digitigrade, ending in clawed feet that scraped the basalt with each landing. Broad shoulders supported its muscular arms, tipped with razor-edged talons capable of slashing as easily as a blade.

This is a tough opponent for a first level, Severa thought. It had the cunning to force mistakes, to exploit gaps, and to draw her into wasting her aether. She would need to preserve her aether—two cyan potions weren’t going to last forever, and there were still two more levels to clear.

She scanned the surrounding area. Light from the aetheric sky glinted off countless tiny crystal formations jutting from the basalt, naturally grown in clusters and veins that traced the ridges of the hollow. The cost of manipulating existing elements is always lower than conjuring one from the Aetherrealm, she thought. Let’s use crystals to my advantage.

She let the creature make the first moves.

The Sentinel closed the distance. It lashed forward in a probing swipe, forcing her to sidestep and gauge its reach. With a quick gesture, she invoked the Crystal Thaumaturgy spell, Shard Scatter. Tiny crystal shards leapt from the tips of her fingers. Quick spells were needed, and this one had low drainage on her aether pool.

The first shards pinged against its shoulder plates, not enough to pierce, but enough to draw out a flinch. The creature recoiled, trying to readjust its stance.

This one seems wary of contact. I can waste its energy with low-cost spells.

Severa’s eyes tracked the movement, noting how it overcompensated. The sentinel lunged again, claws scraping the basalt, but she had already raised spikes of piercing shards on the ground where it was about to step on. The Sentinel skidded to a halt, rearing back as the shards bit into its scaled legs. She tapped into another low-cost Crystal spell: Prismatic Lances. Thin beams of refracted light erupted from small crystal points along the ridge of the hollow, streaking toward the Sentinel’s exposed flanks. The prismatic beams struck like needles, forcing the sentinel to twist awkwardly to protect its vulnerable joints. Never once had the sentinel been close to a few paces near Severa.

The wyvernkin tested her again, lunging forward with a sweeping claw, but Severa anticipated the motion and let a ripple of Shard Scatter erupt beneath its landing zone again. She could tell its weak spots now from the way it protected itself: the exposed joints at the inside of its elbows and knees, where the thick spine scales didn’t cover; the soft membranes under its armpits; and the thin, reflective scales along the sides of its neck, just below the jaw hinge. Seconds passed, each strike chipping away at its armor, each feint drawing it into a rhythm she could predict. 

The sentinel’s breathing grew heavier, its lunges slower, more hesitant. Here’s my chance.

With a single inhalation, she let the collected aether surge into Embervein’s dagger, and struck. The blade didn’t pierce cleanly, but it clipped the sentinel across its armored flank, sending it sprawling.

I was aiming for the neck, she huffed. My weapon handling is still so bad.

The wyvernkin struggled to its feet, claws scraping against the basalt, wings bracing for another lunge. Its chest heaved; even the thick armor along its spine seemed to weigh heavier now. She waited for the perfect opening and swung the Embervein again. The flames extended; a mnemonic-less version of the Invocation of Phoenix Shaping. It didn’t grow to full length, but it didn’t need to. The blade grazed the sentinel’s neck, not precise enough to be fatal, but enough. The creature’s legs buckled and it toppled onto the hollow floor with a shudder.

Severa let the sentinel’s body slump fully against the basalt floor as she scanned for any signs of loot. Aetheric creatures sometimes left small traces, such as vials of condensed mana, fragments of crystalline energy, or even shards that could be harvested to forge items. This sentinel offered nothing.

“Well,” she muttered, brushing ash and dust from her dagger, “I suppose some fights are just practice.”

“Better control now,” Halveth commented.

Severa straightened, allowing her lungs to fill. Usually, first-level dungeons didn’t carry this kind of lingering disturbance; there was no boss waiting just beyond the first stretch. But this sentinel had been . . . unusual. Its very presence had warped the local aether, leaving small eddies of unstable energy along the ridges.

She tapped into a low-cost scanning spell: Invocation of Aetheric Echoes; a spell that didn’t have an affinity but could simply be used with good aetheric control. Silver filaments of light flowed from her fingertips, curling through the hollow like a gentle wind. They traced residual currents of life, sweeping the space methodically. Nothing else moved, nothing else throbbed with life except the distant, skittering silhouettes of skirverns perched high above, silent and wary.

Severa retracted the filaments, letting them vanish into the air. “Clear,” she said.

“Onward,” Halveth said. If Halveth didn’t offer anything more, it was most likely safe to march on.

Severa adjusted her grip on Embervein and stepped forward. How pleasant does it feel to be in a dungeon, she thought. She was in her element now; she was thriving. It would’ve been foolish to listen to Forsing earlier.