Lilliana's smile was the only prelude. With a graceful, almost lazy gesture of her hand, the cavern began to transform. The black, crystalline structures pulsed with an accelerated, sickly green light. The floor erupted, releasing pools of bubbling, toxic ichor. From the archway behind her, the true Black Garden began to bleed into their reality. Twisted, thorny vines, black as pitch and covered in weeping, eye-like sores, snaked across the floor, tearing up the stone as they moved.
The air grew dense, heavy with the scent of rot and decay, and from the encroaching darkness, figures began to emerge. Death blossoms, larger and more venomous than any they had seen before, unfurled their petal-like arms, rotting faces at their center hissing and moaning. Undead knights, adventurers, and clawed monstrosities poured from the shadows.
"We cannot win this," Heka whispered, her golden mist flickering against the overwhelming dark. She looked at Amon, then at Kerris, whose face was pale, reflecting the green glow of the corruption.
"We've seen armies, my queen," Amon said, his voice low and dangerous. The sun's emissary released a torrent of flame and magma, scorching the first wave and enemies. "We have the space, meaning we have the advantage," he looked at Lilliana, "Kindling, wasn't it?"
"My King…" Heka was at his side in an instant, her golden mist mending the gash at his side and on Kerris's shoulder.
"We survive. That will be enough," he whispered. "Zeek," Amon called, stepping in front of the group, a flaming shotel in one hand, the other, a gauntlet of magma. "The map. Find us a way out. Now."
Zeek, startled, fumbled with the satchel. He pulled out the map. The pulsing lines had faded, presenting a still, empty page.
"It's gone silent!"
Kerris looked about the amphitheater frantically, her eyes darting between each door, corner, and crevice. "There's a fissure," she said, her voice hysterical with fear. She notched a flaming arrow and fired into the endless army, "There's a tunnel that way! This place is unstable, but it will get us away out of here!"
"Good," Amon growled. He looked at the encroaching horde. "Kerris, watch our flanks. Heka, shield us. We move as one if it comes to that."
Mersk stepped forward, his black silk robes flowing around him like liquid smoke. He pointed a finger at Kerris. "You think you can leave? You belong to us, as do your friends," he laughed mockingly.
Kerris didn't tremble this time. She felt the dull burn from the spot on her shoulder where Amon had carved out his magic. She drew her bow, her father's armor creaking softly.
"I belong to no one," she spat.
The hordes surged.
Amon met them first. He fought with calculated torrents of flame and magma, burning waves around him into cinders. The sheer numbers approaching them were insurmountable. Magma turned to smoking obsidian, fueling Heka as she swept through the dark forces like a raging hurricane of knives and claws. Thick black smoke rushed through the enemy ranks, choking and wringing the life from their lines.
Kerris notched arrow after arrow, aiming directly at Mersk. The horde's numbers served as both sword and shield, blocking each arrow with another sacrifice. Zeek stabbed at straggling undead, fumbling in his pouch; he withdrew a hand bursting with assorted crystals.
"Amon! Heka! Get back!" Zeek roared as he launched the crystals into the air above the army of foes pouring out of the Black Garden. He cracked on final vial and threw it in the air. "This nightmare ends here!" There was a crackling in the air, and a moment of silence before an array of elements exploded across the battlefield. Fire, acid, lightning, water, wind, all coalescing in different forms wreaking havoc everywhere. Tornados formed, pulling undead into clouds of fire and acid. Water showered death blossoms before lightning decimated their numbers. Ice exploded on each side of the entryway to the Queen's throne room, thinning the numbers pouring into the arena.
His feet moved, swift as lightning, gliding on icy patches formed in the wake of the pandemonium. He skated toward his queen, his blighted angel, his last hope at redemption. Lilliana. He drew his knife, pouring his last ebony and ivory vial onto it. The blade hummed with a devastating aura, as he closed in on his target. A hand brushed against his arm, leaving a burning, wriggling sensation; he wrenched it free, undaunted in his singular focus. Her.
"Yes Zeek, come to me, I've waited for so long," Lilliana moaned. "Let's end this, and we can finally leave together."
Zeek readied his dagger, closing in with each second, the purifying white aura emanating from the hilt to the tip of the blade; all he needed was one strike, anywhere, it needn't be fatal. One strike and she'll finally be safe. His grip trembled at the thought; didn't she say they could leave together? His mind clouded, hope breaking through his dark focus.
Then she struck.
Lilliana left an extended hand through Zeek's chest, his beating heart bloodied in her hand.
"You always said your heart was mine," she whispered.
"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," he choked.
With the last of his strength, he drew his cleansing dagger back for one, final, decisive blow. His arm twitched, stalling in place. As he slowly turned his gaze, a black stitch wriggled on his arm where that hand had touched him. A sinister laugh echoed through the icy mist as Mersk skulked from the mounds of corpses as more death blossoms and undead filed into the room.
"I think I'll take that."
The dagger slipped from Zeek's grasp, and into Mersk's waiting hand. A crazed smile danced across his lips as he played with it.
"At last," Lilliana's lips inched closer to Zeek's as blood bubbled from them. Her pale lips pressed against his, giving him one final kiss. "We can be together, forever."
The stitch on Zeek's arm pulsed, root-like tendrils weaving and extending throughout his body. Mersk slowly brought up the knife and dug it into Zeek's heart, dark tendrils exploding from it as they ran up Lilliana's arm and pulled it back into his chest.
Lilliana threw down the writhing body in disgust. Her mind was a chaotic mess, with the last remnants of self now focused entirely on the body that wriggled before her. Her black veins pulsed visibly just beneath her skin as the last vestiges of light faded from the ring Zeek had given her so long ago.
"What have you—" The words caught in her throat, a sickening black ooze dripped down her eyes and lips. Her eyes rolled back, the image of his body in the throes of death tearing at the crumbs of her sanity.
"Why, what do you mean?" Mersk's lips curled in a cruel smile.
The labyrinth shook, tremors racing across the walls as inky black tendrils exploded from its queen. The horde, though fewer in number, became enraged, more and more death blossoms piling in from the Black Garden despite Amon's flames.
"Zeek!" Amon screamed. Kerris shrieked, another bond broken. Heka churned a veil of blackest smoke, blocking the survivors from the flooding enemies.
"We need to leave! Kerris!" Heka shook her out of her stupor.
Kerris's eyes moved frantically as she came to. "Follow me," she yelled before she following with a pained whisper, "these walls have a tell."