With the final battle over in the tournament, the power of a god held tightly in the hands of Metz as the last pieces of the key merged together. Beyond the gates of dreams and nightmares, a great howl erupted as the Lord of Nightmares gnashed his teeth, railing with all his might in hopelessness as the seal snapped shut.
In the grand foyer of the Nexus of Worlds, N’Katya felt the surge of power, as did all Forgotten. The great seal had been closed again. The giant creature hurled balls of dark energy at Skallagrim, each one intensifying as they struck the Walker between Worlds. The heft and weight of her glaive had pushed Skallagrim to a knee. Every tendril of energy he had expanding from him in a concentric circle, followed by a deep, thrum felt in the bones rather than heard.
“You have managed to cloud the minds of another, but it shall not avail you Cughtagh! Today you have come at the crossroads of your existence, and it shall end here.”
With that, the Forgotten intensified their attacks. Tendrils of dark energy snaking through those still facing the invaders, bursts of energy, focused slammed into the skeletal figure struggling to rise. Shadowy, misshapen beings began to turn away from their individual fights, focusing every ounce of their hatred on the Dreamer.
In a sudden move, N’Katya whirled, the glaive drawing back in a flash of movement, followed by a tremendous boot to the head of Skallagrim. The blow knocked him to the ground, as a chaotic, whirlwind of dark energies hammered him.
Grasping his sword, Skallagrim rose to a knee. A nimbus of amethyst energies swirled around him, expanding slowly. “I have been patient N’Katya. You have felt the sealing of the gate, you know your master shall not be free. Return to the gloom.”
“You are a fool Dreamer. We have broken free. You cannot contain us all, Ghoukas’ influence shall be felt once more in this incarnation of worlds.” With that, the winged creature charged towards Skallagrim, the glaive glowing in a whorl of darkness, similar to that which surrounded Skallagrim’s dagger. “Today Dreamer you shall witness your last day.”
Rising to meet her, Skallagrim thrust, sliced and cut with great care. N’Katya parried, turned aside and sought her own openings. A certain beauty was contained in their movements. Each a master of their craft, each looking moves ahead to secure a victory.
The fight may have lasted had it not been for the intervention of the armoured woman who shimmered into existence a scant 20 feet from the two. Raising a wicked looking rifle, the woman dropped to a knee, aimed carefully and unleashed a pulse of energy slamming into the back of the Dreamer. It was followed by another, and another as each pulse caused Skallagrim to stagger. Dropping to his knees, the woman moved with deadly precision behind him and fired one last time.
“About time you made your appearance.” Huffed N’Katya.
“I wanted to make sure he was completely focused on you. You looked good, I almost believed he was beating you.”
“He was. His power has not diminished through lack of practice.” N’Katya toed the fallen Dreamer, “He will remain in stasis for how long?”
“Not long. We must hurry if we are to effect an escape. Release your Legions, and I shall administer the Coup de Grace.”
N’Katya nodded, turning she hurried to her companions, a static-filled screech filled the air as the Forgotten began to drift away, vanishing into the greater Multiverse. One look back before she left, the war chief of the Forgotten watched with satisfaction as the shadowy assassin raised her rifle to fire point blank into the crumpled form of Skallagrim.