The Reckoning

The Reckoning

The undead were swarming again.

Blackened silhouettes crested the frozen hills, a grotesque wave of decay against the pale expanse of snow.

Flesh hung in ragged strips from bones, faces twisted into eternal screams.

The stench of rot mingled with the biting cold, clawing at Quaraun's senses.

Silver hair gleamed like moonlight as he stood his ground, pink silk robes whipping in the frigid wind. His venomous jellyfish tentacles writhed in the gale, prehensile tendrils crackling with necromantic energy. His hand trembled, not from fear but from the exhaustion of wielding arcane power for far too long. Still, he steadied himself, fingers curling tightly around the polished glass wand glowing faintly pink in the dying light.

Beside him, BoomFuzzy stood firm, stocky and fierce, the swirling snow clinging to his thick purple tartan and dreadlocks braided with ribbons now frozen stiff. His woolly beard caught the frost, giving him the appearance of some wild winter god. He grinned wickedly, his steely gaze fixed on the chaos surging toward them.

"Ye're nae alone in this, JellyBrain," BoomFuzzy said, his voice rough but brimming with assurance.

"No, but there are many."

The Lich thumped his frost-etched staff into the ground, sending a wave of icy blue energy rippling outward.

"The cold's mine tae command, an' the dead? They're nae match for ye, neither."

Quaraun's lips curled into a faint, sardonic smile.

"Let them come."

The horde shambled forward, skeletal hands clawing at the icy earth.

Frozen jaws snapped hungrily.

The snowstorm thickened, flakes swirling in a violent violet vortex as BoomFuzzy's Frost Lich magic crackled through the air. Frost bloomed across the ground, freezing the dead in place, but the sheer number of them was overwhelming.

Quaraun lifted his Rainbow Wand high. The sky darkened further, an eerie pink light slicing through the clouds. The wind howled louder, carrying whispers of ancient spells. His voice, resonant and commanding, rose above the chaos.

"Rise, my forgotten ones," he intoned, his words pulsing with arcane might.

The ground beneath the horde shuddered. From the frozen soil, skeletal arms burst forth - Quaraun's own army of the dead, summoned from long-buried graves. Their bones glimmered like polished ivory under the strange light. They tore into the advancing horde, brittle bones clashing with decaying flesh.

BoomFuzzy laughed, a wild, joyous sound amidst the carnage.

"Aye, that's the spirit, JellyElf! Give 'em a taste o' yer wrath!"

The battle raged on, snow and frost mingling with shards of bone and rotting flesh.

Quaraun moved with calculated precision, his tentacles slicing through the throng, each strike imbued with dark magic.

BoomFuzzy commanded blizzards that encased the dead in crystalline tombs.

When at last the tide waned, the two stood amidst the carnage, breath visible in the frigid air. The field was littered with shattered bones and frozen corpses.

Quaraun exhaled slowly, the glow of his magic fading.

"We have won - for now."

BoomFuzzy clapped him on the back, his grin as fierce as ever.

"Aye, but they'll be back. Reckon they dinnae ken when tae quit."

Quaraun's gaze hardened.

"Then we will remind them."

And together, they stood against the wasteland, resolute beneath the fractured sky.

| ©2025 Wendy Christine Allen | All Rights Reserved | Cross Published on Medium |