4-06 Mortal Hands (Variant 2) скачать в хорошем качестве

4-06 Mortal Hands (Variant 2)

The ceiling cracks; the stones give way, Grima’s spell still claws and stays. Through falling ice and shattered roof, He calls pale ghosts as deathly proof. Huio cleaves a spectre through, Axe meets ghost and splits it true. He lunges in with mortal might, And locks the lich in brutal fight. Lina strikes with her flame and string, Burning ghosts as bright chords ring. Her magic spreads against this curse, All wounds knit closed by song and verse. Larsa cuts the spectres down, Her smite rings sharp on frozen ground. Elle’s bright rays burn through the air, As Mikenna drives her challenge there. She grasps the cleansing crystal hard Against Grima’s withered guard. To drain the rot that binds his breath, She gambles light against his death. No deathless throne, no hollow crown, No stolen breath to lay us down. What lives must choose, must bleed, must stand— And fight the dark with mortal hands. Grima whispers, cold and low, A spell too strong to overthrow. Lina moves to break the sound— Her counterspell does not take ground. Huio stiffens, stunned in place, Rage still burning in his face. He drops his grip, then lunges fast, But death slips free from mortal grasp. The risen knight calls down the day, A blazing beam holds them at bay. Yet still the dark will not release— The roof breaks wide; the fight won’t cease. A piercing screech tears through the air, Four dark shapes descend from there. Frosted wings in corrupted flight— Twisted wyverns join the fight. Lina speaks with measured will, Her word compels one mind made still. It turns aside, it calls the rest— Three break away; no blows are pressed. Larsa strikes; the lich recoils, His left hand cut by holy toil. Elle rends the veil with binding cries— Grima flickers, half-denied. His arms are gone to other skies, His form now thin, not fully tied. Behind his throne, one black stone stands, Still choking spells from mortal hands. No deathless throne, no hollow crown, No stolen breath to lay us down. What lives must choose, must bleed, must stand— And fight the dark with mortal hands. The specters thin and falter there, Yet still the wyverns wheel and glare. Through broken vaults and falling stone, True wings descend with thundered groan. Rime strikes first with shattering force, A spectre crushed with no remorse. Lina feels the bond made clear— Her dragon’s call is strong and here. Rime bows low amid the fray, Lina mounts; the field gives way. From wyvern’s back she sees it all— The shattered field, the battle’s call. Huio hacks the obsidian core, The last black stone begins to roar. Elle’s bright orb slips past its hold, One final strike—the stone explodes. It breaks in wild, chaotic light, All flesh is seared by magic’s spite. The charm is torn from wyverns’ will, They turn again with hunger still. Mikenna’s whispers drive one back, Larsa swings—her blade goes slack. Kyvin strikes a spectre down, As wings and fangs still rake the ground. Within the stone, now split apart, A metal sphere floats, cold and stark. Grima fades—but is not slain. The wounded stand. The fight remains. No deathless throne, no hollow crown, No stolen breath to lay us down. What lives must choose, must bleed, must stand— And fight the dark with mortal hands.