Before either of us could take another breath, a massive, corrupted burst of golden-black energy violently erupted from the heart of the temple. The concussive shockwave shattered the ancient marble spires, completely obliterating the remnants of the grand structure in a deafening explosion.
I threw my arms over my face as the shockwave washed over our protective dome, making the emerald light flicker violently.
As the dust began to settle, the black waters of the Rhoyne violently churned. The river swelled and defied gravity, pulling itself upward to form massive, swirling orbs of water. The liquid spheres floated ominously into the air, slowly advancing towards us like leviathans ready to strike.
The Shrouded Lord drifted forward, descending slightly from his elevated position. The stitched faces adorning his horrific leather robes seemed to silently scream as he spoke again, his ghostly, hissing voice cutting through the roar of the floating water.
"Lírië nérni, meldarye nauvalyë i yarci arani nén i mandonyo, ar i Valyar nauvar i mbar ohtaryo i nauva tye. Únë nauva hat i panya tenna sí."[Foolish beings, you shall be my key out of this prison, and the Valyrians will know the doom that awaits them. None shall halt the progress any longer.]
Father did not bother translating the intricacies of the ancient tongue. His emerald eyes narrowed into slits of glowing fury. "He wants to kill us."
His massive Goblin steel broadsword materialized instantly in his right hand, the heavy metal humming with lethal intent. He didn't look at me, keeping his eyes locked entirely on the advancing monster. "Be ready, Hermione."
I drew my gladius and my wand, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs as the thousands of Stone Men finally began to shamble forward, closing the ring around us.
But Father was far from finished. He reached into his enchanted pocket and withdrew a heavy leather bag. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he scattered a handful of smooth, fist-sized river stones directly onto the muddy earth before us.
With a flourish of his left hand the death stick spawned into existence releasing an aura that seemed to terrify the hoards of stone men as they backed away a step from the dome.
He pointed the wand at the scattered rocks. "Engorgio!" The stones violently shuddered, rapidly expanding in size until they were massive, jagged boulders resting heavily in the mud.
Father slashed the pale wand through the damp air in a complex, sweeping arc. "Piertotum Locomotor!"
The earth violently trembled. The massive boulders began to aggressively unfold, the rock grinding and shifting as it took humanoid shapes. Eight colossal, twelve-foot-tall stone golems rose from the mud. They varied drastically in their terrifying shapes—some possessed the broad, heavily armoured shoulders of medieval knights, while others had the hunched, brutish forms of mythic beasts with jagged, hammer-like fists.
Across every inch of their rocky, grey bodies, intricate runes flared to life, glowing with a blinding green light. The eight massive titans stepped forward, physically shielding us with their towering frames, the very ground shaking beneath their weight as they prepared to meet the endless tide of the Shrouded Lord.
Then, as if emboldened by an unseen, malevolent force—or perhaps driven by the silent machinations of the Shrouded Lord himself—the thousands of Stone Men turned completely feral. A collective, guttural shriek tore through the damp air, and the endless sea of petrified flesh surged blindly toward our luminous dome.
Father did not hesitate. With a sharp, upward thrust of his wand, he commanded the towering stone golems forward. They stepped seamlessly through the boundaries of our divine shield and crashed into the charging horde.
It was an absolute massacre. The massive stone titans swung their heavy, jagged fists, completely pulverising the afflicted mortals. A single, sweeping backhand from a golem shaped like a mythic beast sent a dozen Stone Men flying through the air, their petrified bodies shattering like fragile porcelain against the ancient ruins. But this was never a battle of skill; it was a battle of impossible attrition. Eight golems, no matter how magically fortified, could not hold back a tide of thousands indefinitely.
I played my part firing explosive spells at approaching stonemen and around the golems to deter them but I could not handle the sheer numbers against us.
The Stone Men abandoned whatever fractured humanity they had left. Stripped of all reason, the rabid creatures began to frantically scale the towering legs of the golems like feral insects. Once attached, they violently bashed their own petrified skulls against the glowing containment runes carved into the golems' rock. Sickening cracks echoed across the plaza as their heads split open, smearing thick, dark blood and foul, yellowish pus across the glowing green magic. The horde was adapting in the most gruesome manner imaginable. Those still on the ground began hoisting the heavy, pulverised corpses of their fallen comrades, wielding the broken bodies as crude, fleshy shields and bludgeoning weapons against the stone giants.
I ripped my gaze from the horrific melee to look at Father. He was completely occupied, his glowing emerald eyes locked onto the sky. The giant, dark water spheres that had formed from the Rhoyne were now floating directly above us, entirely controlled by the ghastly levitating Shrouded Lord.