Chapter 28: The Faun’s Last Note
The blue wizard stood at the edge of the dam, eyes burning with fury as he looked down at the bodies of Grimp and Mr. Thornwick. Their defiant fall had left an empty void inside him—one he could not yet fill with magic or fury. His rage surged as he turned back to face the rest of his captives, eyes now fixed on the faun.
How dare they defy him? How dare they continue to resist after everything he had done to them? Each act of defiance, each death, only fueled his need for destruction.
"You will all pay for this," the blue wizard spat, his voice thick with venom. "My peat has a price, and your souls will be the cost."
With a flick of his wrist, he turned toward Snivel-Belly, the Redcap. The blue wizard's command was clear as he handed the crossbow, now stained with the blood of their earlier victims, to the Redcap. "Take him down," the wizard ordered. "The faun will be the first to fall. I will make an example of him."
Snivel-Belly, eager to please, grinned widely. The Redcap was gleeful in his cruelty as he raised the crossbow, eyes narrowing at the faun, whose fragile form lay crumpled on the stones below. The faun was still breathing, but the blood seeping from his many wounds spoke to how little time he had left.
The Redcap aimed his weapon, his finger steady on the trigger, and shot the first bolt into the faun’s side. The faun winced, the air leaving his chest in a shallow gasp as the bolt lodged deep into his flesh. He didn’t scream, didn’t cry out. His eyes, though weakened, remained defiant, still locked onto the Redcap with a quiet, almost serene fury.
Another bolt. This time it struck his shoulder, piercing through to the other side. The faun’s body jerked as it absorbed the blow, but still, he didn’t falter. He didn’t surrender.
With a low moan, the faun slumped further to the ground, his blood staining the stone beneath him. His breath became ragged, but something still flickered behind his eyes—a resolve, a refusal to go quietly into the abyss.
Another bolt. And another.
The Redcap was relentless. The bolts rained down, each one a reminder of the wizard's dominance, of how small they all were beneath his power.
The faun’s body was growing weaker with each passing second. The wounds were too much for him to bear, his life slipping away with each breath. Yet in his heart, a flicker of defiance still burned. Despite the pain, despite the blood pouring from his body, the faun would not let the darkness claim him in silence.
Eryndor gripped his flute with trembling hands. The instrument, stained with his blood, was his only connection to life, his only thread of power.
And with what little strength he had left, he raised the flute to his lips.
A high-pitched note burst from the instrument, sharp and piercing, echoing off the dam walls. It was a sound unlike any other, a note so pure, so high, it seemed to break the very fabric of reality. The note screamed of freedom, of pain, of defiance—of everything the faun had fought for, even in his final moments.
But it was not enough.
Another bolt flew.
It pierced deep into his chest, just below his heart. The faun’s body convulsed, the light in his eyes fading as the life drained from him. The flute slipped from his hands, falling to the ground with a dull thud, as his final breath escaped him.
The note he had played, high and clear, lingered in the air for a heartbeat longer before it faded into nothingness.
Kalo and Lukan, standing to the side, could only watch in horror. Their friend, their guide, had given everything in his final act. He had chosen to go out singing, defiant to the end. The sound of the faun’s final note echoed in their minds, a reminder of everything they had lost—and everything they had yet to fight for.
The blue wizard, standing tall, watched the faun's body crumple to the ground. His lip curled in disgust as the last note faded into the air. "Fool," he spat. "You thought your death would mean something. You thought it would make a difference."
He turned back to Snivel-Belly with a sneer, his hands crackling with magic. "None shall stop me," he hissed, his voice laced with madness.
But before he could issue another command, something unexpected happened.
The ground beneath them trembled. The air grew heavy, the wind swirling with an unnatural force. And then, high above, there was a boom.
The sound came from above, loud and clear, like thunder rolling through the sky. Sprig appeared, riding the broom with the speed of a streak of lightning, his eyes fierce with determination. The broom cut through the air like a blade, heading straight for the dam, straight for the blue wizard.
The wizard’s eyes widened in disbelief as Sprig and the broom appeared out of nowhere. The very air seemed to crackle with a new kind of power—a power the wizard had not foreseen.
Entered by: 0xe9a1…78d3
Chapter 29: The Loch Serpent’s Hunger
Eryndor, the faun, lay sprawled on the dam wall, a broken, bloodied figure. His body, once proud and agile, now crumpled under the weight of his wounds. Each bolt that pierced his flesh seemed a cruel mark of fate—each a sentence of death from those who saw him as nothing more than a tool. The edges of his vision blurred, but through the haze, his hands, slick with his own blood, found the flute. It was all he had left now, the final piece of himself, and with what little breath remained, he pressed it to his cracked lips.
A high, wretched note broke from him—a sound so raw, so filled with agony that it seemed to tear at the very fabric of the world. The note hung in the air like the last, mournful cry of a dying soul, resonating far beyond the dam, out into the barren wilderness.
The earth trembled in response.
From the depths of Loch Ceòladh, a terrible force stirred—growing, swelling, rising. With a guttural roar that seemed to shake the heavens, Cailleach'na-Bheith, the Loch Serpent, broke the surface of the water. Its massive body emerged like a living nightmare, scales black as night, gleaming in the murky light like oil-slicked obsidian. Its form was a vast, undulating horror—its serpentine body coiling and twisting in the water, the very Loch splitting in its wake. Its emerald eyes burned with a malevolent hunger, the eyes of a god forgotten by time.
With a bone-rattling shriek that echoed through the heavens, the serpent lunged toward the dam. Its sinuous body moved with an unnatural grace, a primal force that seemed to bend the very laws of nature. Cailleach'na-Bheith surged upward, tearing through the loch’s surface, a tidal wave of water following in its wake.
Then, with an earth-shattering crash, the serpent collided with the dam.
The impact was catastrophic. The dam's mighty stone walls crumbled beneath the onslaught of the serpent’s fury, as though they were no more than dust. The stone shattered like brittle bone under a hammer, jagged fragments exploding outward. Debris rained down like ash from a pyre, the thunderous roar of destruction drowning all other sounds. Metal and wood twisted, shrieking in protest before succumbing to the force. The cranes and pulleys, once tools of oppression and labor, now became twisted wreckage, sent flying into the air by the impact. Ropes snapped with sickening pops, whipping through the air like flayed sinew, severed by the force of the surge.
Through the chaos, Kalo, ever quick to act, grasped the broom. His fingers burned with the pulse of magic, and the broom surged to life beneath him. Lukan, the otter, leaped onto Kalo’s leg, clinging desperately to his friend as the ground beneath them shattered. They soared upward, their escape a blur of motion against the backdrop of chaos. The floodgates had opened, and the devastation was inevitable.
The serpentine body of Cailleach'na-Bheith continued to wriggle and thrash, its enormous form tearing through the dam’s remains, grinding stone into powder and snapping steel like it was little more than kindling. Its massive coils wrapped around the broken dam, reducing it to ruin, a cacophony of grinding stone and splintering metal. The serpent’s roar was deafening—a primal cry that shook the very heavens.
In the midst of the devastation, the blue wizard stood frozen, disbelief written across his face. His empire was collapsing around him, his meticulously crafted machinery of control dissolving into ruin. His hands trembled, then rose, the last remnants of his will conjuring a portal—a jagged, unnatural tear in reality. The rift crackled with sickly light, a final, desperate escape. He cast one last glance at the destruction, his eyes filled with defeat, and stepped through the portal, leaving his empire to drown.
The flood, a relentless, merciless tide, began to sweep across the land. Redcaps and brownies, their faces twisted with terror, scrambled in panic, desperately trying to flee the oncoming water. But it was too late. Cailleach'na-Bheith descended upon them with terrifying speed, its enormous jaws opening wide. With a sickening wet crack, its teeth, like scythes, tore into their bodies, cutting through flesh and bone with horrifying ease. The sound of snapping bone and screams of terror blended into a grotesque symphony as the serpent devoured everything in its path.
The floodwaters roared as they surged over the land, swallowing the slag pits, the peat fires, the remnants of industry—all of it was consumed by the dark water. The once-bustling, oppressive machines that had sustained the dam’s brutal existence were now nothing more than sunken remnants, lost beneath the water’s surface.
The slaves, those broken souls who had toiled endlessly under the cruel hands of their masters, clawed at debris—splintered logs, shattered crates, anything that might keep them afloat. Some found their escape on floating debris, while others struggled in the rising tide, their eyes wide with terror as the waters rose around them.
Above, Kalo and Lukan continued their desperate flight, leaving behind the wreckage of the dam, the flood, and the serpent’s endless hunger. Below, the Redcaps and brownies, once the masters of this cruel world, had now become the prey, dragged under by the floodwaters or consumed by the serpent’s insatiable jaws.
The tools of oppression—the very structures that had kept the slaves in chains—had now turned upon their creators. Cranes and pulleys, once symbols of the Redcaps’ control, crushed them into the muck as the flood overtook them. The sound of their destruction blended with the roar of the serpent, a grim requiem for those who had once wielded power, now drowned and broken in the flood.
For the first time, Kalo felt a fleeting sense of hope as they zoomed higher into the sky, the serpent’s roar fading into the distance. The world below had been irrevocably changed, and with it, perhaps the future was open—no longer shackled by the chains of the past. But for now, all he could do was hold on tight as the broom soared into the unknown, leaving behind the wreckage and the ruin of the world they had once known.
Entered by: 0xe9a1…78d3
