Apocalypse: Regression

“Alright, cots are set up, and we put water by everyone’s bed just in case. I need to warn you all though: the outhouse is a bit of a walk. We haven’t gotten plumbing working here, but the construction crew set up portable toilets next to the western wall. It’s the wall that’s getting hit least, so it made sense to us,” Kaylee explained as Nick and the crew walked into the tent. “If you need anything else, let me know.”

“Will do,” Nick told her as he entered the large tent.

“Hey, before you guys go to sleep, take this,” Topaz said, tossing each of them a clear finger-sized vial filled halfway with murky white liquid. “I’d personally suggest you swallow it with something sweet. It’s gonna be a bit bitter.”

“What’s it do?” Nick asked as he downed the thing the moment Topaz gave it to him.

“It’s a rapid REM phase potion! And I said to take it before you sleep! Not right away—”

Topaz’s voice faded with Nick’s consciousness as he felt his body go limp, the feeling of falling overtaking him with the darkness.

When he regained consciousness, he felt the sensation of hair whipping across his face, and he realized where he was: one of the Black Witch’s memories. From the towering height of a massive central cathedral, she surveyed a massive crystalline city abutting a river running from the north to the east. Intricate carvings adorned every surface of the building, telling tales of valor and sacrifice from her world.

He recognized immediately several of the scenes, as they were images he’d seen first hand from her point of view in his past dreams, from her first venture into a portal to fight the vampire to organizing and training the troops to dealing with corrupt nobles. Even the scene of her encounter with the dragons was there, albeit very different than how he remembered the event, the carving depicting how she led her people in the desperate maneuver to redirect the rift toward the icy hell instead of the dragon’s den.

It was an entire cathedral dedicated to her, their saintess. For a moment, he wondered how it was that, even with all of these deeds, she was still the “Black Witch.” They revered her like a goddess, praised her more devoutly than almost any religious person worshiped a deity on his own world, yet she had kept the name ‘Black Witch,’ as even the stained glass cathedral showed.

Turning his attention back to the layout of the city, he could see the immense iceberg upon which the city stood. The city’s walls were no less impressive than the cathedral and buildings themselves, standing two hundred feet tall and gleaming with a translucent sheen. They encircled the city like a protective shell against the besieging army that threatened to swallow it whole. The three ice bridges created by the enemy, each a hundred feet wide, stretched out across the river and connected the city to the tens of thousands of the beasts to the north.

From her vantage point, the Black Witch could see the running soldiers and civilians that filled the intricate network of streets winding through the heart of the city. Buildings crafted from stone atop icy foundations were half destroyed from constant bombardment. The city was a crystalline marvel, carved into the very heart of an immense iceberg that had been eroded by the rivers around it.

From her vantage point, she watched as her people’s enemies surrounded them on all sides and assaulted her home for the thousandth time. The relentless tides of enslaved humans and monstrous predators crashed against her frost-laden barriers.

Several hundred harpies pulled men from the walls, dropping them to their deaths, and the lucky few who survived the fall landed in the jaws of the thousand giant wolves ready to snap them up. Hundreds of giant stone bears roared as they led the charge, their rocky fur protecting them from raining arrows as the beasts tore at walls.

On the farthest ice bridge, a group of giant badgers were attacking the gates of her city with battering rams fashioned from ancient trees felled from nearby forests by human slaves and reinforced with iron bands.

The air crackled with magic as the defenders unleashed their arsenal upon the besieging forces. Arrows tipped with shimmering enchantments pierced through the thick hides of the badgers and wolves alike. Fireballs erupted in brilliant bursts of flame, engulfing clusters of enemies in a fiery inferno that sent agonized howls echoing across the frozen expanse. Conjured stones hurtled through the air like meteorites, crashing into the ranks of the attackers with bone-shattering force.

The badgers, their fur matted with blood and snow, faltered under the relentless barrage. The giant stone bears, once indomitable in their advance, stumbled and roared in pain as the magical onslaught took its toll. Harpies fell from the sky, and even the dire wolves, their pack synergy disrupted by the power of the defenders, faltered.

“Report,” she commanded, her voice slicing through the howling winds like a shard of ice.

A knight, clad in armor that shimmered with enchantments to ward off the bitter cold, approached with a bow of his head. "My lady, the giant badgers have tested our eastern barricades thrice. Their leader, the third of the Demon Bear Generals, has not yet revealed himself, but his minions grow bolder by the hour."

"Are the citizens secure?" The Black Witch's question was more demand than inquiry.

"Secure but weary. They are not soldiers, my lady. Each assault leaves us more drained of food, water, and people," the knight confessed.

"Indeed." Her gaze returned to the battlefield, noting how the ice foxes led a cunning flank that probed for weaknesses in her walls as the enemy repaired the damage to the ice bridges. She could admire their intelligence if it weren't for the threat they posed.

"Furthermore," the knight continued, his breath misting in the frigid air, "our attempts to retreat through the unholy rift have been thwarted. We failed to break the enemy mages that corrupt the threshold, sealing off use of the portal. Forgive me, my lady."

"Then we shall make them regret confining a witch to her lair," she said, the edge to her voice as sharp and dangerous as the ice upon which her city was forged. The Black Witch raised her hands, arcane energy swirling like the blizzard around them as she began to weave a spell the likes of which Nick had never seen before. As the spell expanded outward, every soldier, knight, and citizen near her began to glow until the glowing concentrated only in their eyes.

"Prepare for the final defense,” she commanded, the magic resonating with every person she addressed. “These beasts before us wish to break our spirits, to capture, crush, and enslave us as they have done to thousands before us. But they are mistaken if they think we will go silently. We, who have lived our lives in freedom, will never be able to forget the ancient institution that was ours from birth. If we lose it, its rights will haunt us, echoing in our memory the glory of the olden days. Therefore, when faced with such peril, we who cannot surrender have no other choice but to fight.

“We must fight until our last bone is broken, until our breath ceases and our bodies fail. For the moment we admit defeat, we are worse than dead. The moment you close your eyes and give in to the pain, pain will be the least of your concerns. We who have lived in freedom, who lived as people determining our own fate, are ill equipped for the tyranny of becoming cattle for those monsters. So today, I ask you to give everything, to trust in me one last time and know that, live or die, this fate is the only one we have left.”

Despite the hunger setting in as the siege neared its conclusion, the knights struggling to move under the weight of starvation, they all found one last burst of energy with her magic, yelling out at the top of their lungs as they were imbued with an unholy vigor.

Nick already knew, without even being told by the Black Witch, the price of the spell: their lives. It was a more destructive version of charisma magic, transforming the life essence of those who accepted its blessing in their heart into temporary power, like removing the wax on the wick of their life and lighting it all at once.

In response to the spell, the glowing-eyed knights, soldiers, and civilians raised their weapons, from the literal pitchforks, hoes, hammers, and staves of the peasants to the swords and shields of the knights, shouting out as their will to battle reached the maximum.

Turning to the Black Witch, the commander of the knights, eyes glowing golden from the leeching magic, gave only a single, silent salute before turning to the battlefield. However, no matter how much strength the magic gave them, it merely counteracted the hunger and starvation the people were facing under the siege.

Even the Black Witch felt the effects of the hunger as she raised her sword and followed after the knight commander. The world would end, humanity would fall, but she had not lied to the people. She would give one final effort before restarting the loop. She would live through the pain and suffering of battle one final time before she closed the loop and reset the timeline.

“In the next life, I’ll save you,” she whispered to herself, to the people doomed to die. Even if they won, their death was assured. It was the final gift she could give them, either to achieve victory or die before they could wear the chains of the monsters in front of them.

As they charged out to battle, the ursine commander let out a ferocious roar, and the world faded again, changing to the aftermath. It was a vision of a desolate city with only a single woman standing in the middle of the carnage.

“Did you win?” Nick asked as he noted the bodies—human, ursine, vulpe, and more—scattered around him.

“Was there ever a chance?” the Black Witch asked, chuckling a little as her solemn veneer cracked into a cackle. “Numbers, levels, strength, and experience . . . For centuries, they were given every gift time had to offer before we were even given the chance to play in this wicked game.”

“Nothing is hopeless,” Nick said as his eyes took in the horror around him. He was unable to look away from the twisted, agonized expression of the dead knight commander, steps away from where the Black Witch was standing.

“Indeed, it’s not hopeless. If we cannot handle the force on our own, then with your world’s help, it might be possible,” she replied, her eyes flickering with the light he’d seen in her people earlier, as if she had cast the spell on herself as well.

“I’m not your chess piece to move as you see fit,” Nick told her, firm in his resolve not to let her sway him so easily. He knew the dangers of letting her perish, but he also knew the risks that came with helping her too.

“No, you’re not a chess piece. You’re like me. We’re one and the same, and that’s why I know that, with your help, we can achieve victory. Even if we fail this time, we’ll just restart again, and the next time we will succeed,” she assured him. “But if you don’t try, if you do nothing . . . then know that your fate in this timeline will be sealed. Your realm is not immune, Regressor. The ursine legions will not halt at one conquest. Their thirst for power is one that cannot be quenched."

The scene shifted again, this time to a sight that wrenched Nick's soul—the familiar landscapes of his own world, now under siege. He saw the city ablaze, skyscrapers snapped in half, and entire blocks of the city turned to rubble. Towering arctic ursines, their rocky hides impervious to the desperate attacks of tanks and gunfire of soldiers.

“Without our walls to act as a bulwark against the tides of foes seeking to sweep across our world, this will be but a prelude to your end,” the witch whispered, somehow cutting through the din. "Time ebbs, Regressor. Will you rise to meet the tide?"

Nick woke up with a start, his body covered in sweat. His mind was a jumble from the sudden shift from the dream the Black Witch had sent, but it cleared as he recognized his surroundings. The Black Witch's last question lingered in his mind, even as the visions faded and reality's cold grasp reclaimed him.

This was more than a plea for help; it was a warning. He could not—would not—allow such ruin to befall either of their worlds. With each passing minute, he felt the stirrings of a plan, the call to rally the Daedalus Guild.