Rotstorm Siege
Chapter 9: Rotstorm Siege
The acid rain beat against the citadel's walls like angry fists, each droplet leaving smoking pockmarks in the stone. Alden pressed his back against a crumbling pillar, watching as the courtyard transformed before his eyes. What had once been solid granite now pulsed with sickening rhythm, the walls stretching and contracting like the chambers of some massive heart.
"We need to move," he hissed, eyes darting to the sky where the Rotstorm churned, a vortex of black and crimson.
Liora nodded, her face half-hidden behind a tattered cloth mask. The crystalline patches on her neck caught what little light penetrated the storm clouds, reflecting prismatic patterns across her collarbones.
"The archives are in the north tower," she whispered, voice nearly lost beneath the howl of wind. "If Serafina's research exists anywhere, it's there."
Black Chord oozed from cracks in the walls, viscous and gleaming. The stench of burnt hair filled Alden's nostrils, making his eyes water. A droplet of acid splashed onto his shoulder, burning through fabric and skin in an instant. He bit back a scream, his glass eye reflecting the chaos around them.
"This way," Alden gestured toward a covered walkway. As they moved, a section of wall bulged outward, flesh-like protrusions reaching for them like desperate fingers.
---
From his perch atop the western guardhouse, Aidan Blackwood observed the siege through a brass spyglass. The Shroudmark on his wrist pulsed painfully, tightening like a vise with each passing moment. His quarry was close—he could feel it in his bones.
"Sir." One of his men approached, armor spattered with acid burns. "We've secured the main gate, but the eastern wall... it's changing."
Aidan lowered the spyglass, eyes narrowing. "Changing how?"
"It's... growing. Breathing." The man's voice wavered. "Three of our men touched it. They're turning, sir."
A bitter smile twisted Aidan's lips. "The alchemist's handiwork, no doubt." He rolled down his sleeve, covering the writhing Shroudmark. "Seal the eastern quadrant. Burn anything that moves."
"But sir, there are survivors—"
"I said burn it." Aidan's tone left no room for argument. "This infection stops here."
As his subordinate departed, Aidan returned to his observation. Through the swirling miasma of the Rotstorm, he caught glimpses of movement in the courtyard below. A familiar silhouette with a distinctive limp—Alden Renshaw. Beside him, a woman with bandaged hands.
"Found you," Aidan whispered, his breath fogging in the suddenly chill air.
---
The tower seemed to stretch endlessly upward, its walls rippling like water. Liora ascended the spiral staircase first, her footsteps echoing against stone. Each step required more effort than the last, as if gravity itself fought against their progress.
"Something's wrong," she called back to Alden. "The air... it's thicker here."
Alden followed, one hand pressed against the wall for balance. His fingers sank into the stone as if it were clay, leaving impressions that slowly filled with Black Chord.
"The Veil is thin here," he replied, withdrawing his hand with disgust. "We're in the Eclipse's shadow."
At the top of the stairs, a chamber awaited them. Unlike the distorted architecture below, this room remained untouched by the Rotstorm's influence—clinically clean, with walls of polished obsidian. At its center stood Serafina Crespo, her white robe immaculate against the backdrop of carnage visible through tall windows.
"Alden Renshaw," she greeted, voice eerily calm. "The last of the Renshaw alchemists. How fitting you should return to us now."
Behind her, a pile of Hollowed corpses formed a macabre throne. Their twisted limbs and frozen expressions spoke of agonizing transformations. Alden recognized the distinctive crystalline growths of Grey Chord users among them.
"I've come for your research," Alden stated flatly, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife at his belt.
Serafina smiled. "Of course you have." She stepped forward, and in her hand gleamed a dagger unlike any Alden had seen before. Its blade seemed composed of countless shards, each catching light differently—fragments of the Veil itself.
"The Shattered Chord," she said, holding it out toward him. "Crafted from the very barrier you seek to repair. It can sever a Hollowed from the Eclipse's influence... or bind a soul to it forever."
Liora tensed beside Alden. "Don't listen to her. We need to take the research and go."
Serafina's gaze shifted to Liora, lingering on the crystalline patches visible at her neckline. "The corruption spreads quickly in you, healer. The Eclipse has already claimed portions of your flesh. Soon, it will take your mind."
"Join us, Alden," Serafina continued, extending the dagger toward him. "The Eclipse will spare you. Your brother understood this truth before his transformation. Why else would he have embraced the Grey Chord?"
Alden's jaw tightened. "My brother was trying to stop this."
"Was he?" Serafina's smile widened. "Or did he simply wish to experience the Eclipse's embrace first?"
The dagger rotated slowly in her palm, its fractured surface reflecting Alden's face—distorted, with glass steadily replacing flesh. His left eye, once merely flecked with shards, now appeared fully transformed into a crystalline orb.
"You're running out of time," Serafina whispered. "The Chord has nearly consumed you."
---
Corbin Ashcroft moved through the lower levels of the citadel with practiced stealth. The Artificers' uniform provided little protection against the Rotstorm's influence, but it granted him access to areas otherwise sealed. Behind him trailed three young Dissidents, each carrying satchels of explosives.
"The archives are our priority," he reminded them. "Destroy everything. Leave no research intact."
The youngest—a girl no older than sixteen—glanced nervously at the pulsating walls. "What about the people?"
"Anyone still alive in this hellhole is beyond saving," Corbin replied sharply. Then, seeing her expression, he softened slightly. "We focus on the mission. That's how we honor the dead."
A tremor shook the corridor, sending dust cascading from the ceiling. The walls contracted sharply, squeezing inward until the passage narrowed to half its original width.
"Move!" Corbin shoved the Dissidents forward as the corridor continued to constrict. "The building's changing—becoming part of the storm!"
They reached a junction where the floor had liquefied into a bubbling pool of what appeared to be molten stone. Across it, a heavy door marked with the Artificers' emblem stood partially ajar.
"The central archives," Corbin breathed. "We need to cross."
One of the Dissidents—a young man with a Shroudmark pulsing at his temple—stepped forward. "I can make it. Give me the charges."
Before Corbin could protest, the young man grabbed two satchels and began picking his way across the edges of the melting floor. Halfway across, his boot slipped, sinking ankle-deep into the bubbling mass. His scream echoed through the corridor as the substance began crawling up his leg like a living thing.
Corbin's hand went to his crossbow, pausing only briefly before firing a bolt into the young man's chest. The mercy killing was quick, but the horror remained as they watched the body sink gradually into the molten floor.
"The explosives," the girl whispered, horrified.
"We have enough," Corbin replied grimly. "We'll find another way."
---
"I want nothing from you," Alden spat, backing away from Serafina's offering. "Your cult poisoned my brother's mind."
Serafina's expression hardened. "The Eclipse doesn't poison, Alden. It reveals. Just as the Chord reveals your true self." She gestured to the windows, where the Rotstorm raged. "This is merely the beginning. In thirty days, the Veil falls completely. What walks through will make these Hollowed seem merciful."
With a sudden movement, Alden lunged forward, knocking the dagger from Serafina's hand. It clattered across the obsidian floor, coming to rest near the pile of Hollowed corpses. Liora seized the moment, darting to a shelf of documents behind Serafina.
"The map!" Alden shouted. "Find the map to the Veil's weak points!"
Serafina remained unnaturally calm, watching as Liora rifled through scrolls and ledgers. "You cannot stop what's coming, healer. Your hands already speak the Eclipse's language."
Liora's fingers—half-crystallized and darkening at the tips—trembled as she grasped a rolled parchment sealed with black wax. "I have it!"
The tower shuddered violently. Outside, the Rotstorm intensified, acid rain giving way to chunks of corrupted matter that smashed against the windows like artillery.
"We need to go," Alden grabbed Liora's arm, pulling her toward the stairs. "Now!"
Serafina made no move to stop them, her serene smile never wavering. "Run if you must. The Eclipse is everywhere. Even inside you."
---
They descended the tower in frantic haste, the stairs beneath their feet squelching like wet flesh. The courtyard had transformed entirely, now resembling the interior of some vast organism more than architecture. Pulsating veins carried Black Chord through what had once been stone, and breathing orifices exhaled mist that stung the eyes.
"The main gate," Liora gasped, clutching the stolen map. "If we can reach it—"
A crossbow bolt whistled past her head, embedding itself in a nearby column. Aidan Blackwood emerged from the mist, flanked by armored Artificers with torches.
"Renshaw!" he called, voice ragged with hatred. "Surrender the woman and the documents!"
Alden pushed Liora behind him. "Take the east passage. I'll hold them here."
"Alden, no—"
"Go!" he hissed, drawing a vial of Ash Chord from his coat. The hybrid concoction glowed with dull gray luminescence. "I'll find you."
As Liora reluctantly disappeared into the mist, Alden uncorked the vial with his teeth. The Ash Chord burned like fire as it entered his veins, momentary invincibility flooding his senses even as he felt the calcification spreading through his arm.
"You want me, Blackwood?" Alden called, voice distorted by the Chord's effects. "Come and get me."
---
Liora ran blindly through corridors that shifted and warped around her. The map clutched against her chest felt unnaturally warm, as if alive. Behind her, she heard shouts and the distinctive crack of Alden's Ash Chord igniting.
The eastern passage opened onto a smaller courtyard where the gate stood partially open. Freedom beckoned beyond, the Rotstorm's influence lessening outside the citadel walls.
Three steps from escape, something massive erupted from the ground before her—a Hollowed unlike any she had seen. Its body seemed stitched together from multiple victims, limbs protruding at impossible angles. One of its many arms shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist.
Liora screamed as pain lanced up her arm. The creature's touch burned cold, spreading crystallization where contact was made. The map slipped from her grasp as she struggled, pages scattering across the wet courtyard stones.
A blur of movement, and suddenly Alden was there, his knife slicing through the Hollowed's arm. Black ichor sprayed across the stones as the severed limb continued to grip Liora's wrist.
"Run!" Alden shouted, his face ashen from Chord depletion. Together they stumbled through the gate, leaving the citadel and its horrors behind.
Only when they reached the relative safety of the outer bailey did Liora realize the Hollowed's arm still clung to her wrist, its fingers fused with her crystallized flesh. Worse still, the map—their only hope of finding the Veil's weak points—lay scattered and dissolving in the acidic puddles of the courtyard.
"The map," she whispered, horror dawning. "It's gone."
Alden said nothing, his gaze fixed on Liora's hand where the Hollowed's fingers had merged with her crystallized flesh. Before their eyes, the blackness spread upward from her wrist, veins of darkness threading through the crystal patches.
"We need to move," he finally said, voice hollow with defeat. "The Rotstorm will follow us."
As they limped away from the citadel, neither looked back to see Serafina watching from the tower window, the Shattered Chord gleaming in her hand, its broken surface catching the unnatural light of the storm.