Adventure of Arlyias 1

The Sorcerer cuts the chant short and the chamber goes very still. In the blood-red gloom, they draw a jagged obsidian blade and launch down from the landing, all hungry purpose and no ceremony.

Arlyias squares up near the cracked seal as the Sorcerer closes fast, blade low and ready to kiss flesh. Kaelith tries to drag himself upright beside the scar in the stone, but pain drags him back down.

The Sorcerer lunges for Arlyias’s arm, aiming to turn a single cut into a new anchor for whatever waits beneath the floor.

Kaelith gets one knee under him at last, grimacing toward the rush of steel and shadow. The chamber’s cracked stone throws back the scrape of boots and the soft, vicious glint of the obsidian edge.

The Sorcerer presses in another step, intent and snarling, while the sealed fissure beneath them seems to wait, patient as a grave.

Arlyias thrusts out his will, and a pale force wall snaps between them. The Sorcerer meets it mid-stride, their blade skidding sideways with a shriek of stone and spellwork.

The push lands crooked. Instead of flying back cleanly, the Sorcerer twists inside the pressure and slams shoulder-first into the broken rail fragments, boots gouging sparks across the grit.

The force field buckles under their weight, then snaps back with a violent pulse. Arlyias feels the backlash rattle through his arm and chest like a hammer blow.

Kaelith freezes on one knee beside the scar in the floor, eyes wide, as the Sorcerer staggers but stays inside striking distance.

The Sorcerer regains their footing with a snarl, obsidian blade raised again, but their balance is ruined and the landing is still behind them.

Arlyias thrusts his will again, and the force field swells hard. It catches the Sorcerer in the chest and drives them backward, boots scraping sparks across grit and broken wood.

The obsidian blade dips as they hit the landing, shoulder striking stone with a sharp crack. Their free hand flashes out, trying to find purchase, but the barrier keeps them sliding.

The shove leaves them exposed on the stair lip, chest heaving, spellwork bared and thin. Kaelith pushes higher from the floor, eyes fixed on the opening.

The Sorcerer lashes the blade up too late, fury replacing balance, as the chamber’s red light flickers over the cracked seal and the scattered rail fragments.

For one breath, the Sorcerer is pinned at the landing, exposed to Arlyias and too far from the sigil to strike cleanly.