The familiar, agonizing pull of the Radiance had become a grim rhythm. My world had narrowed to the circle of light, the grip of the hands beside me, and the constant, draining effort to keep a sliver of myself separate from the torrent flowing into the crystal. The last of the civilian evacuees had long since vanished into the tunnel's depths, their frightened whispers swallowed by the dark. Only the temple's guardians remained now—the priests, the guards, Jeryl, and myself—forming the final battery for Theron's desperate stand.
The relative silence was shattered by the sound of frantic, stumbling footsteps. A young priest, one of the runners tasked with monitoring the evacuation's tail end, burst into the chamber. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, his face ashen.
"The barrier!" he choked out, waving a trembling hand toward the world above. "The top… it's thinning! Fading! You can see the shadows pressing through!"
A cold dread, sharper than the Radiance's drain, shot through me. Theron's eyes snapped open, their usual warmth replaced by a hard, focused light. He didn't question the report. Instead, he placed a hand back on the crystal, his brow furrowing in concentration as he tapped into the remaining energy to sense the barrier's integrity for himself. A moment later, his face tightened, confirming the worst.
"He's right," Theron's voice was flat, devoid of its usual resonance. "The barrier is failing faster than projected. The main body of civilians is only just beginning their march down the mountain. They are slow and burdened by the need for supplies."
The unspoken conclusion hung in the air, heavier than the mountain above us. If we broke the circle now, if we stopped feeding the Radiance, the barrier would fall instantly. The horde would pour through the temple and flood into the tunnel. They would run down the fleeing civilians long before they could reach any semblance of safety, and we join them, probably dead even before them because we were behind.. Our sacrifice would have been for nothing.
Theron looked around the circle, his gaze meeting each of ours. The fear in the room was a tangible thing, a metallic taste in the air. I saw it in the white-knuckled grip of the guard next to me, in the rapid, shallow breathing of the priests.
"I will not lie to you," Theron said, his voice quiet but clear, cutting through the panic. "To hold the barrier until they are clear… it will take everything we have left. It will likely take more. I will not order you to stay. I will not think less of any who choose to run. The choice is yours."
His words were a mercy and a condemnation. He was offering a way out, but we all knew the truth of it. Choosing to run meant abandoning the others to a swift death and then facing the horde alone in the tunnel with no hope. Staying meant a chance, however slim, that the people we'd sworn to protect might live. It meant a morally superior end, rather than a frantic, terrified one.
The silence stretched. I could feel the conflict raging in the people around me, a storm of terror and duty. I felt it in myself. Every instinct screamed to run, to try for those extra minutes of life.
Then, Jeryl shifted. The big man let out a grunt, adjusting his stance, settling his weight as if digging in for a final blow. He didn't say a word. He just tightened his grip on my hand and on the hand of the priest beside him.
It was enough. One by one, the others followed. A priest bowed her head, tears streaking through the dust on her cheeks, but her feet remained planted. A guard met Theron's gaze and gave a single, sharp nod. No one left. No one moved toward the tunnel.
Theron's expression was a complex mix of profound grief and even deeper pride. "Then we see it through," he whispered.
He placed his hands back on the Radiance. The light flared, brighter and hungrier than before. The pull intensified, a vicious, final demand. The familiar process began again, but this time it felt different. This wasn't about digging a path anymore. This was a holding action. A last stand. We weren't just giving our energy now; we were buying time, second by precious second, with the currency of our souls. The chamber filled with the light of our ending, and we gave ourselves over to it completely.
I couldn't help but keep the despairing thoughts from my mind though, even as the stabbing pain of the Radiance did its best to help me in that regard. What was the point? We were burning ourselves out here, offering ourselves up to this hungry light, but for what? A hope? A chance? Theron had sent the civilians away with only two of the guards. The world outside was a scarred wasteland, crawling with who-knows-what other dangers. The city at the end of the mountain range might be no better off than here, Karion's story old news. Those people we were dying for might be walking straight into another nightmare, or simply collapsing from exhaustion and despair a few miles from this mountain. Our sacrifice could be for nothing. It could be utterly meaningless.
I forced the thought down. It was a luxury I couldn't afford. Doubt was a crack in the will, and right now, our collective will was the only thing keeping the Radiance focused and the barrier intact.
My mind, ever analytical even as it was being assaulted from within, the logical failsafe of the Telepathist kicking in, turned to a more immediate, terrifying question: what happened when the barrier finally fell? Theron hadn't said. He'd spoken of buying time, of holding until they were clear. But clear meant distance. A lot of it.
Then I understood. The Radiance. It wasn't just a light or a tool for digging. It was a bomb. A Supreme-level artifact containing the condensed power of three God-blessed champions. Theron wasn't just going to let the monsters swarm us once we were spent. He was waiting. He was letting us drain ourselves into it, building up its power to a critical peak. And then, when the horde finally broke through and flooded the temple, he would trigger it.
He would turn this entire mountain top into a sun.