Hello!
So, here is the next chapter (quite short, sorry about that.) in my first Fanfic, Kataclysm. The events and the characters are based on the item descriptions in the Mysterious Alchemy Machine for the Kat Cowls (like Torair, Preowa and Scraith)
Please keep in mind that this is my first fanfic, so please forgive me for any mistakes that appear.
So, let's continue!

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2: final orders

The Owlite apprentice hurried through the intricate halls of the academy, pushing, impatiently, past other Owlites. He finally arrived at an old wooden door, and began knocking ceaselessly as soon as he arrived. The door opened, revealing an elder Owlite. "Ah. Come in." The apprentice hurried into the room, the door shutting behind him. "Do you have the Tomes?" The elder asked and the apprentice nodded, placing several large books onto a desk. One of them had a silver feather attached to the front. The elder examined each of them. "Sir, if I may..." The apprentice began to stutter. The elder simply nodded without looking up, engrossed in the tomes. "Sir... I do not believe we should've attacked the Kats." The elder looked up, surprised. "And why do you say that?" The apprentice looked at the floor. "They will not forget that day. We hit them harder than we will ever know. I fear they may already be amassing their armies." The elder shut the book. "Really, apprentice Olum? The Kats are bloodthirsty savages, who would gladly eat both of us for dinner. They are a threat to this world, and you know it." The apprentice stepped back, looking at the floor. "They deserved every casualty." The apprentice, Olum, looked up at the elder. "Not all of them did."

Margrel followed Scraith out of the war tent, pestering him with questions. "So what am I supposed to do? Why invite me to the meeting?" Scraith looked at Margrel with exhausted eyes, and she immediately felt guilty for asking. "You understand, Margrel, that I do not trust our leader entirely." Margrel thought back to meetings between the two, the cold shakes of the hands, the icy glances. "Yes... Why?" Scraith shook his head. "There is one more order that he gave us. We are to retrieve a book. It is called the Book of Feathers. It is said that the book contains the entirety of the Owlites' power."
"And you want me to get it for you."
Scraith stopped, checked that nobody was nearby, and continued, rubbing his sleepless eyes.
"I do not think our leader needs any more power than he has already. Our tribe is being twisted into a dictatorship without us realising. I need you to make sure that we never find it."
"Wait... You mean..." To defy the leader of the Kat tribe was treason, and he knew it.
Scraith looked at Margrel's shocked face. "Do what you have to do. Find it and get rid of it."

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So! There you have it. Chapter 2. Very short. Don't worry, though, Chapter 3 will be quite a bit bigger!
What did you think of it? Any questions you need answering? And suggestions for the plot? Don't be afraid to comment!

-Alfreton

Well helu!
With 25% (roughly) completion on chapter 5 (new characters inbound!) now would be a good time to release chapter 4.
Didn't get enough of Margrel in chapter 1? She's back!
So, ladies and gents, let us pick up where we left off! (I'm running out of ways to say that ._.)

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4: The Library

Margrel scaled the walls rather less elegantly than Scraith had, her arms straining as she pulled herself over the edge of the wall. Thankfully, Scraith and his squad had caught the Owlites by surprise, pushing them back sufficiently for Margrel to get in undetected. She crept through the deserted corridors, hiding in the shadows whenever the sound of footsteps came near. Her cowl was a dark purple colour, so she blended in quite well. She arrived at a large, gilded set of double doors, the intricate carvings forming the shapes of Owlite shields. Margrel pushed through the doors, shutting them carefully behind her. She was in a library, a huge one. She gazed in wonder at the hundreds of bookshelves stretching from floor to ceiling in neat lines. She took a book off a shelf and opened it, scanning the contents. Nothing. Just a story about some duke from Almire. She returned the book, and looked around the library. There were hundreds, probably thousands of books here and she had to find just one. The siege would end before she could even scratch the surface!
Then her ear twitched upwards. An unmistakeable noise she dreaded entered her ears. The creaking of one of the huge doors as it opened. Footsteps approaching. Margrel hid behind the end of the aisle, going into the row next to the intruder and peering through the shelves. It was an Owlite, his arms laden with books, making his way down the aisle. Margrel breathed a sigh of relief. It was just a librarian, surely?
Thud.
The Owlite tripped up, dropping the books and falling to the floor. Margrel's eyes widened. One of the books had a silvery feather on the cover. The Book of Feathers. Margrel had to retrieve it from him somehow. Taking a deep breath, Margrel rounded the corner, stepping into full view of the Owlite, now picking himself up from the floor. The Owlite looked up, and took a step back as he saw the Kat that stood in front. of him, just a few metres away. "Give me that book and I'll let you live." She said, more confident than she felt, pointing to the Book of Feathers that still lay on the floor. The Owlite stood up, drawing himself to his full height (not very tall) "What, so I can be murdered by the rest of your tribe? I have a better idea." The Owlite plucked a book from the shelf nearby, opening it to a certain page and chanting the contents. A fireball materialised in mid-air, it's flames licking the air but not growing or even spreading. The Owlite watched in amusement as the Kat took a similar book of the shelf next to her. If she intended to shield herself, it would be a futile attempt. He continued to chant, and the fireball grew until it blocked the entire aisle. The Owlite looked for a moment longer at the spherical inferno which obscured his view of the Kat before firing it, the flames blazing towards the end of the aisle, crashing into the Kat. The smoke began to clear. The Owlite gasped. Margrel was still standing, an azure shield surrounding her, an open book in her hand. "Guess what. You aren't the only person who can read." Margrel grinned.
Then they both began to chant.

Scraith hauled Torair up onto the wall, his brown fur now blackened by the flames. "Now what did I say about only blowing the doors off?" Scraith asked, returning the rope to one of the pouches on his belt. Torair just grinned. "Minor hitch. Nothing I couldn't sort out." Torair stepped to the edge of the wall, watching as the rest of the Kat tribe charged through the remains of the gate. "Minor? You would've been killed if I didn't come along." Torair took off his cowl, shaking the ash and grime off of it. "Well, the gate's open now. Mission accomplished." Scraith looked towards the main complex of the Owlite High Academy of Magicks. Out of nowhere, an explosion punched through the roof of one of the buildings, momentarily lighting up the night, leaving a gaping hole. Scraith turned to Torair. "One of yours?" To his surprise, Torair shook his head. "No bomb I made could've caused a blast that large." Scraith unsheathed his sword, the jagged edge glinting in the moonlight. "Let's go see what did then."

Preowa made her way through the rooftops of the academy, occasionally stopping to snipe an Owlite below. She and her squad had split up, supporting Scraith's Clawers from above. Scraith. As the best shot in the entire Kat Tribe, it was her job to cover the swordsman. Yet she couldn't find him. A terrifying thought entered her mind. Had he been killed?
...no. Scraith was too good with a blade to fall that quickly. She scolded herself for her worry. He was somewhere around the academy, that was for sure.
She just hoped that she would be able to see those amber eyes again.

Margrel had only performed a handful of spells in her life. She didn't get many opportunities to, as not many of the Kat tribe's enemies possessed books, let alone spell books. Even when they performed a few minor raids on the Owlite's outposts, there were only a few volumes inside them. Yet here she was, slinging spells at the Owlite across the aisle, magic coursing through her veins.
She was in heaven.
She countered whenever he attacked, before sending decoy attacks to throw him off guard, sending larger, 'real' missiles to attack. But she was running out of pages, and the Owlite was only getting started. If she paused to find another spell book, that would be enough for the Owlite to launch some spells which could do some real damage. She shielded again, the blast from an incendiary spell deflected to the roof, tearing part of it open. Margrel had to find a way to end the battle, and fast. She desperately held her shield together as she flicked through the pages, trying to find a more powerful spell. Nothing. Then she saw it. At the bottom of the page. A tiny scribbling, as if an Owlite had drawn on it. She began to chant, using every last ounce of her power to perform the spell. Her shield gave off a purple glow. The Owlite, sensing a chance, hurled several spells at once at Margrel...
...which were absorbed by her shield. The Owlite was stunned. Not one of his tutors had taught him that spell. How could a Kat, with no experience whatsoever, pull it off? Margrel felt power flow into her as her shield leeched the energy from the spells, flowing the kinetic and magic energy into her body. Margrel flicked back through her spell book, throwing every spell she knew at the Owlite, an otherworldly glow filling her eyes. The Owlite apprentice stepped back, fear written in capital letters across his face. His shield dropped. Margrel raised her hand towards him, and chanted a single word. The Owlite Apprentice tried to run, but it was useless. The hundreds of magical missiles that had grown around Margrel now shot towards the Owlite faster than a round from Preowa's crossbow.
The impact knocked the Owlite off his feet, and threw him, unconscious, to the floor. Margrel shut the book, the glow in her eyes vanishing, only to be replaced by a large grin.
She had done it!

The graveyard hasn't gotten this thread yet! Nope, still going. (If at a very, very slow pace.)
So, before we carry on I would like to apologise for the lack of efficiency. Time seems to be shrinking in quantity for me lately, and I've been finding it hard to find some to carry on.
However, there is a holiday coming up, so expect some more content then. For now, though, part six!

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6: The Book Of Feathers

"We seem to be overwhelming the Owlites so far. We have control of most of the Academy by now, but something seems to be holding our troops off at a certain point." Preowa told Scraith as she hoisted him off the ground.
"Why? What's going on over there?" Torair asked Preowa, stuffing spare bombs into his pack.
"We don't know. But our main priority now is the Book Of Feathers, and Margrel. Let's hope she isn't in trouble."
Out of nowhere, Orvin began to laugh, somehow still conscious despite the loss of blood. "You fools. The Book Of Feathers is not a power source." Orvin wheezed with every few words, a pool of crimson creeping onto the floor beneath him. Preowa levelled her crossbow at him, not deterred by the new information.
"Maybe one round wasn't enough to shut you up, Owlite. Keep clapping that trap and we'll see if another one makes it to you."
Orvin's smile slid off his wounded face, replaced by a serious expression. "You don't understand. It is a prison. A prison to one of the greatest evils this world has seen. If you open it, you release... Them..."
Torair looked nervously at the library.
"Your friend does not know this. Despite their surprising knowledge, it will not save them from the Black Kats. The Book mimics the greatest evils of its opener. She will bring about the Kataclysm."
The entrance to the library began to glow ominously, a purple light filling the room. Scraith swore.
Orvin slumped over, unconscious.
The Kat tribe trio ran into the library.

Margrel picked up the book carefully, it's weathered cover sliding into her hands perfectly, as if it were made for her. A single silver feather was attached on the front of the book, glistening in the moonlight let in by the hole she had made in her duel. It looked so beautiful.
"Scraith was right. Our leader does not deserve this." She whispered softly, as if the book could hear her.
Margrel felt her hands sliding to the edge of the cover, her fingers curling over the first page.

Margrel opened the Book Of Feathers.

At first, nothing happened, Margrel turned the pages, transfixed by the amount of content. Then it began to occur to her that it was not written in her own language. It was a garbled font of strange, golden writing, which seemed to spiral across the pages. Then the words began to glow. It was a soft radiation at first, and Margrel could barely notice it. But then it began to light up, slowly reaching a blinding brightness. Margrel tried to shield her eyes, but her hands were stuck to the book... No. Margrel was stuck to the book. She couldn't separate herself from it. Books began to fall from the shelves, the pages from some of the older tomes falling out, and beginning to fly around Margrel. A single glowing eye appeared over the book, blinding Margrel even further. Then it turned purple. The words on the pages did so to, turning from a bright white to a cold magenta. A glowing circle appeared on the floor around her, and, from... Somewhere... She heard a voice.
"AT LAST."
It felt like it was coming from within her, but was appearing from the book. It felt like chalk being dragged across a stone, every word exhausting her, drawing her strength to live.
"FOOLISH GIRL. WE ARE WITHIN YOU. BUT DON'T WORRY. YOU WILL SOON OUTLIVE YOUR USEFULNESS."
Margrel felt voices at the back of her head, as if the strange... Thing... That was talking to her was part of something much larger than the Kats or the Owlites.
"THIS WORLD IS USELESS. EVEN WITHOUT OUR HELP, IT WILL SOON BE DESTROYED, SIMPLY A JIGSAW PIECE, FILLED WITH PITIFUL MONSTERS. WE SHALL PUT IT TO MUCH MORE USE THAN THAT."
Margrel felt her hands turn to another page of the book, and begin to chant out the spells on that one. She could do nothing but watch as her eyes made their way across the page, her mouth reciting the black magic against her will. A hole of pure darkness appeared in the wall behind her, and she felt footsteps. Creatures of shadows, like Kats but... Twisted, somehow, began to fill her field of vision.
Margrel felt the voice tell her one last sentence, draining far more energy than necessary, torturing her.
"THE KATACLYSM IS NIGH."
And with that, Margrel was blasted to the side of the room, feeling her vision fade as she heard a familiar voice.
"Margrel!"

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At long last, chapter seven is finished!
Finally, you can now read it in all it's pixel-y glory, on your computer / laptop / other web browsing thingymawatsit.

Before we restart, I'd like to apologise for the time this took. A whole month! Wow. Sorry.

Anyway, I'll shut up now. Enjoy!

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7. The Owlite War Council.

The siege on the Owlite High Academy of Magicks had started quite well. Preowa had silenced the Grey Feather Mages, Scraith had been first onto the battlements, and Torair had clung to the gate as it - and his explosives, burned.
Even one of the Owlite heroes, Orvin, had been slain.
However, even with though the Owlite Swordsman had fallen, the Owlites were holding the Kats back quite well.
The element of surprise had been helpful at first, but with the Kat tribes' best warriors... Occupied... They were struggling to keep the tables unturned.
And so they fought on, both sides blissfully unaware of the Black Kats and the Book of Feathers.
Until, of course, it was too late...

The Owlites had set up a makeshift campsite a safe distance from the front lines. A few minor protection spells glowed around the site, offering some protection from surprise attacks. Elementals patrolled the area, ready to blast anything that seemed suspicious, and a barricade of upturned tables, bookshelves, statues and other heavy, strong things sat across the main pathway, and would at least give the Owlites time to flee, should the Kats overpower their fighters.
Luckily, this probability was slowly growing smaller as the mages reached further into their magical arsenal. However, that didn't do anything to calm the nerves of the Chief Magician, a wise Owlite named Oniten, who watched the enchanted map of the Academy as it showed flickering symbols of both sides. Around the table were the Owlite lieutenants, a collection of mages, alchemists and one or two Assassins, all arguing about the best course of action.
"We should set them all alight," yelled Optum, the incendiary Mage with crimson robes. "Let them all burn!"
"That's a stupid idea! Our soldiers would die in the blaze, and it would doubtless spread to the Academy!" The voice of Oona, the head scout and advisor cried, her enraged amethyst-purple eyes glaring out from her hood.
"I say we throw vials at them, and-" one of the lesser alchemists began to pipe up, only to be interrupted by the steely voice of the Chief Magician.
"QUIET! ALL OF YOU!"
There was a deathly silence at the table, and for a moment the only sound was that of distant fighting.

"Have you forgotten who we are? We are the finest practicers of magic to have ever lived. Our lesser foes rely on instincts, weak metal and even weaker bodies. We use the greatest forces known to civilisation. So, can someone please tell me, why we can't act like it?"

Silence fell across the table once more.

"Oona. Status report." The Chief Magician lowered his tone, instead focusing on the map in the middle of the table. Oona stood up, and began to point to various parts of the map. "Our forces are holding... Barely. Our reinforcements have been all but depleted, and the Kats have the advantage of darkness to hide their forces. Once dawn arrives, we will surely overcome them."

"So you're saying that if we survive until dawn, we win?" Optum asked.

"Precisely. It will take some time for the Kat tribe to amass their forces, giving us time to counterattack before they come again."

"Counterattack?" One of the Owlites asked.

"Yes. Tonight, the Kats have declared war. If they want a fight, they will receive one."
The Owlites began to realise the impact of this statement. The Owlites and the Kats had never got on before, but they were notorious for their fighting skill. War could mean nothing but the destruction of one of their kinds.

Just as Optum was about to suggest using a different kind of incendiary concoction to use against the message, and Okarune was about to imply using a spell to make dawn come quickly, shouts began to emit from the far end of the war camp. Owlites began to make way for somebody, someone pushing through at full speed. No, not one somebody, two somebody's. Two of them carrying something between them.

Oniten felt a feeling of dread as he recognised the two Owlites and what they were holding. Medics. A stretcher. An unconscious Owlite on that stretcher. "Oh, no."
Gasps came from the lieutenants as they recognised the Owlite as their own swordsman. Orvin. The medics laid the stretcher on a nearby table, and began to treat the wound he had received from a crossbow round. Oniten ran over to the stretcher, the lieutenants following suit. "Orvin! What happened?" Orvin weakly opened his eyes, and coughed twice. "The fools... They've opened the Book." All of the blood drained from Oniten's face. "Are you sure?" He asked, holding the side of the stretcher with an iron grip. "Yes... They have no idea what it can do." Oniten cursed, striding back to the table, the lieutenenants following. "What happened?" Oona asked as they walked. "The Kats have opened the book. Unless we close it soon, it will consume us all." Oniten marked the library on the map, his hands shaking ever so slightly. "I want every Owlite who can hold a spellbook over there."
"But... The Kats..." Okarune began.
"Get through to them! We'll need their help if we're going to survive this."
The lieutenants nodded, and one by one, began to leave the table, shouting orders to other Owlites.

Oniten looked at the map, feeling as though he had aged considerably in the last five minutes.

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So, what did you think? Are you enraged about my laziness? Do you have any suggestions for the plot? Don't be afraid to comment! (Don't worry, I'll make sure chapter eight takes considerably less time.)

Goodbye!

Happy Kataclysm guys!
Here is part eight, in all it's sort-of-rushed glory. (Sorry for any dodgy storyline bits)
So, I'm going to try to get this thing finished by chapter 10 (I have some ideas for the end.) I will try and take on board some more suggestions, but it won't be long before the story ends. (I do have something planned for afterwards, but that May or may not happen.) also, you may have seen the new Kat armour, as well as tier 3 and 4 black Kat equipment, which implies that Margrel had a unit called the 'Kat Nappers'. It is too late to incorporate them, so I do apologise.

Right! Sorry for the lecture. On with the show!

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8. Alliance

Margrel opened her eyes weakly, taking in her unfocused surroundings. She blinked, calibrating her eyes. The full moon was shining onto her face, and she began to relax, letting its heavenly glow fall across her face. The moon always seemed to calm her, it's welcoming glow soothing her in every... Voices. Non-Kat voices. Margrel snapped out of her daze. She was in a stretcher, in some kind of camp. There was a medic nearby, a hood covering his face. Strange. Kats never wore hoods. The medic turned towards her, welcoming Owlite eyes looking down. "Owlite!" Margrel screamed, falling off her stretcher. The medic looked confused, and then shocked. He started after her. "Stay away from me!" Margrel cried, beginning to scurry away, stopped by the feeling of an arm on her shoulder. She looked up, and saw the relieving amber eyes of Scraith. "Margrel... It's alright."
Margrel stopped, breathing heavily. She looked around. She was in another makeshift camp, nestled in some corner of the Academy. Tables laden with maps, books and weapons sat on the cobblestones, and the area was writhing with both Owlites and Kats. No... That couldn't be right. There was a siege... She was sent to find a book... "Scraith... What happened?" Scraith was about to answer, when she saw another Owlite moving towards her. This one was female, with striking amethyst eyes that seemed to somehow watch everything while only looking in one direction. Her footsteps seemed easy, familiar, as if she had walked across each and every stone a thousand times. Which they probably had. "The Black Kats haven't made a move yet." She spoke with a voice like silver rain. "We've positioned our forces near the library, but not too close. It's only a matter of time before they strike." Margrel was confused. Black Kats? 'Our' forces?
"Why is everyone together? There was a siege..." Margrel began, stopping as the Owlite's piercing emerald eyes glared at her. The Owlite looked at Margrel, regarding her as one would regard a rotting corpse. "Ah. The little Troublemaker's woken up. Guess what? Your little book shenanigans have put both of our kinds at risk. If whatever's inside that library gets out of this Academy, you'll have global genocide on your conscience." Margrel inched a bit further back into Scraith's hold. "So, we called off the siege to try and figure out how to stop those things."
"But how do you call off a..."
"Shut up!" The Owlite turned to Scraith. "Now if your little pest has no more questions, we're meeting in five minutes to discuss these... Unfortunate... Events." And with that the Owlite stormed off, instantly lost in the sea of people.
Margrel looked up at Scraith. "Who was that?" Scraith shook his head. "The head scout and advisor to the big-cheese magician guy. Calls herself Oona."
"I have a feeling she doesn't like me that much."
Scraith helped Margrel up from the ground, waving away the medic's offer for help. "Not as such, no."

Oona felt more enraged than she had in her entire life. That insolent Kat! What right did she have to dabble in something she didn't know the first thing about, and cause such an uproar! If it were up to Oona, she wouldn't have dreamed of Alliance. But the Chief Magician seemed to believe that they could put their differences behind them. Oona would obey for now, but as soon as the truce ended and the Book had been recovered, that Pest would be the Kat tribes' first casualty.
The other Kat Generals seemed decent. For savages, that is. 'Scraith' knew when to keep his mouth shut, unlike his stupid friend. She didn't know much about 'Torair' though, the scruffy Kat just kept himself to himself.
Then there was 'Preowa'. she seemed to be the most competent of the four, never asking for anything she didn't deserve. That Kat was smart, too. Oona mentally slapped herself. "There's no point thinking about them." She muttered to herself as she wove through the crowds in the makeshift battle camp. "If everything goes to plan, we'll be killing each other soon."
Oona arrived at the main area of the camp, a large circular table dominated by a large, detailed map of the Owlite High Academy Of Magicks. The Chief Magician, Oniten, was already there, making detailed markings and diagrams with a quill. Oniten looked up as Oona approached, smiling. "Ah, Oona! Just in time. I've been thinking about the battle plans, and..."
"Sir." Oona interrupted, quite unexpectedly.
"...hmm? What is it?"
"I'm not sure this alliance was a good idea."
"What do you mean?" Oniten sounded confused, and Oona was surprised he hadn't though of what she was about to suggest.
"I don't think the Kat Tribe will keep their word. They're a backstabbing kind, Sir, and they'll slit our throats once this is all over, if not, sooner."
Oniten put down the quill, looking Oona in the eye, a stony look on his face.
"That may be. But if we are to survive this, we need their help. If we don't cooperate, the Black Kats will destroy both of our races, before moving on to the rest of creation. Whatever squabbles you have will them will have to wait, otherwise they will cost the lives of everyone, Kats and Owlites alike."
Oona looked away, unable to meet his gaze. Oniten was right, and that was the annoying thing. The alliance had been formed out of desperation, not pride. Whatever happened afterward would be better than the alternative.
"Do you have any other questions?" Oniten asked, returning his focus back to the map.
"No, sir."
"Good. Now, gather the troops. The second siege is about to begin."

It's been quite a while, and I've decided to fragment the fic one last time, with a build up on 10, a climax on 11, and an endy-bit on 12. Chapter 10 needs a tiny bit of refinery, but it's going to be released very shortly.
Thanks!

-Alfreton

It's almost finished! (For real this time, promise.) Lightning fast compared to 10, I know, but still, chapter 11 is here!
Alright, I will admit that it's a tad bit shorter than I was hoping, but Meyeh. I'll save most of the length and (hopefully) awesomeness for chapter 12.
Enjoy!

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11: Betrayal

Margrel scurried between the bookcases, scanning the books for anything useful. She couldn't tell what urged her to pull out a small tome, open it up and stop on a certain page, but it was a very strong feeling, some kind of instinct. Margrel gripped the page, tearing it out of the book, feeling the tome's rage burning in her skull. The books carried some sort of enchantment that protected them against vandalism, and it was extremely painful to remove the parts that she needed, but it was necessary. Ever since Margrel had opened the Book of Grey Feathers, she was slowly beginning to understand the Black Kats, iotas of information slowly unlocking in her mind. She understood why she was taking all of these pages. Margrel pulled out a wad of stolen pages from other books, held them with her latest theft, and began to chant. This was the most important part of the procedure. If the pages rejected one another, then it was back to square one. Margrel was hoping that she could bypass any hidden enchantments. The pages gave off a gentle hiss, steam rising from their dry surfaces, the writing on them glowing a brilliant gold. "Come on, hurry up..." Margrel hissed to herself, aware that she could not stay in the same place for too long. After several agonisingly long minutes, the pages fused together, the words darkening. Margrel shoved them in her pack quickly, before taking cover behind one of the bookshelves.

Scraith saw an opening. The Elite Black Kats were beginning to stray away from their leader. If he could fight his way through to the Darkness, then he could deploy Torair and Optum's bomb. Scraith pressed through the Black Kats harder than ever, scything through the masses with the Kats and Owlites behind him. It felt good to be in combat again. Torair and Preowa noticed his push, and were starting to fight towards him, glancing over at him, their eyes shining. Scraith realised for the first time that night that they could succeed. Soon, Optum, Oona and Oniten were by their sides as well, slinging silver rounds and spells into the enemy forces. "FIGHT BACK, YOU FOOLS! OR YOU SHALL FACE AN ETERNITY OF PUNISHMENT!" Roared the Darkness, the swarm of voices began to contain a hint of panic. This was not the plan. Scraith sliced through the last Elite Black Kat between him and the Darkness. The others filed out behind him, Preowa and Oona holding him at crossbow-point, Optum and Oniten preparing for a spell just in case, Torair brandishing an unlit bomb. The Darkness laughed. It was a horrible, horrible noise. It was like an insect squealing in pain, but magnified and triumphant. "YOU WIN, KAT. GO AHEAD. PLANT YOUR LITTLE BOMB." Scraith, quite suprised, lowered his sword and pulled Torair and Optum's bomb from his back-sheath. "Keep your eyes on him." Scraith told his compatriots as he took a step towards the Black Kat. "This seems too easy to me." Scraith shoved the enchanted bomb in front of the Darkness, before hastily stepping back. The Darkness simply grinned at him. "WELL DONE." Torair pulled the remote trigger.

Nothing happened.
Nothing.

Torair pulled the trigger again. And again. And again. "It's a dud!" He screamed. "We've been betrayed!" The Kats and Owlites began to panic. Scraith's eyes widened. "...you... Knew about the bomb..."
"YES. NOW YOU UNDERSTAND." Scraith suddenly realised that all of the Black Kats in the room had miraculously regained both their lives and weapons. It had been a trap. "ONE OF YOUR 'FRIENDS' WAS WISE ENOUGH TO COMPROMISE." Scraith saw a figure push through the crowds of Black Kats that now surrounded the Owlites, Kats and the Darkness. Scraith heard Oona gasp.
"Okarune! You traitor!" The Owlite was unable to meet Oona's glare, instead looking at the floor. "I'm sorry, Oona. But it was for the best. We needed to survive. Rigging your bomb was the only way to stop you..."
"Stop you? From saving our kinds?" Oona roared, making several of the less experienced Black Kats jump slightly. "And what would you suggest?" Okarune screamed back. "Just letting the Kats walk away after this?" He glared at Oniten. "They know the layout of the Academy. They've set foot inside it, for heavens sake. What do you think is going to happen after this? I'll tell you what. Their psychopathic lunatic of a leader is going to send them marching right back here." A few of the Owlites and Kats, who had fought together only moments ago were beginning to cast suspicious and doubting looks. "It's them or us. I only wish you could understand that." Oniten did not reply, instead looking down. The Darkness placed a clawed hand on Okarune's shoulder. It felt cold and icy, and almost weightless. "I'VE THINK WE'VE TALKED ABOUT THIS LONG ENOUGH. THANK YOU, OWLITE." Okarune smiled at his comment, before jolting upright. "But... You promised..." The Darkness simply laughed, tightening his grip on the hilt of his blade, twisting it painfully. "PROMISES MEAN NOTHING IN THIS WORLD OF YOURS, OWLITE." He pushed Okarune away, letting him fall to the floor, lifeless. realised with a jolt that there was a deep wound in his back. "YOUR LITTLE 'FRIEND' ASKED ME TO SPARE YOUR KIND IF HE BETRAYED YOU." The Darkness held the point of his sword to Oniten, the tip inches from his face. "But that doesn't make any sense! How did you... Oh, no..." Optum yelled, realising how Okarune's scheme came together. "He snuck away whilst we were preparing to attack!" Oniten shrieked, realising for himself. "INDEED. NOW, WHO TO KILL FIRST..." The Black Kats around the Owlite and Kat generals forced them to their knees, swords prodding their backs. "THE BOMBERS? ...NO. I NEED SOMETHING THAT WOULD HURT EVEN MORE." Optum and Torair breathed out guilty sighs as the Darkness walked past them. "HOW ABOUT YOU TWO? ...NO. NOT A DEEP ENOUGH WOUND." Oona and Preowa glared up at the Darkness, hatred burning in their eyes as he passed them. "NOW, THIS IS MORE LIKE IT." The Darkness knelt down in front of Scraith until the two were at eye level. "WITHOUT YOU, KAT, YOUR KINDS CANNOT HOPE TO PATCH THINGS UP EVEN IF YOU SURVIVE." Scraith spat on him, causing The Darkness to recoil as if he had been stung. He stood up, clenching his sword tighter. "YOU WILL PAY FOR THAT... IN BLOOD." The Darkness raised his sword above his head, ready for the killing blow. The blade arced downwards...

Clang.

Scraith wearily opened one eye, catching sight of the void-black sword, hovering inches away from his head. He could see a symbol resting on the edge of the blade, a rune appearing in golden light. Then the adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream diluted slightly, and the world sped up. The rune repelled the blade as if it was solid, forcing the Darkness backwards, throwing him off balance. Two hands appeared around the Darkness's neck, choking him, causing him to drop the sword. Margrel's hands. "Scraith! Go!"
Scraith reacted, reaching for the dark sword, grabbing it and rising to his feet, cleaving a Black Kat behind him in the process. Preowa kicked the Black Kat behind her, drew her crossbow and sprayed the mass with silver, Oona quickly following suit. Optum threw a smoke bomb, pulled Torair and Oniten to their feet and withdrew several incendiary grenades from his pouch. In a flash, the others were up, stunning the Black Kats and quickly cutting through several lines of them.
The Darkness roared in frustration, throwing Margrel off of him. She was sent sprawling, quickly recovering her balance and distancing herself from the Darkness. She couldn't fight him without help. Before she could call for her companions, however, the Darkness realised this as well, chanting a single word, runes appearing in a circular shape around them, fencing her in. A barrier.
"I MUST THANK YOU, KAT," Margrel's reflection told her, his voice cutting through the muffled sound of fighting in the background. "WITHOUT YOU, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN ABLE TO MANIFEST THIS QUICKLY."
"A caged fight, huh? Scared you won't be able to beat me unless I'm alone?" Margrel retorted, grinning slightly despite the situation.
"POWER RUNS THROUGH YOU NATURALLY." The Darkness stated, drawing a void-black spell book from thin air, purple runes fluttering across the pages. "YOU WILL MAKE A WORTHY OPPONENT."
Margrel caught sight of Scraith from beyond the barrier, fighting for his life along with the others. If she could end it here, she could save what little they had left. Margel pulled out her stolen spell book, power flowing through her irises.
"If only I could say the same for you."

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I've got a pretty good idea for 12, so I won't be lazy and ask for suggestions. (Although you still can if you have any last-minute brainwaves) I've started getting more into SK, so the final chapter will come out relatively soon(ish). Until then, goodbye!

-Alfreton

(Fun fact: in earlier drafts, I called the Darkness 'Margrel' with quotation marks, but it got too confusing when he/she/it/whatevertheheck met Margel. I sorta lost track of who was who.)

It's finally here! yes, I have finally finished this story!
Chapter 12 is probably the biggest one yet, but (hopefully, anyway) it's the best.
Thank you so much for reading this story, as I wasn't sure whether or not people would actually like this thing. It's probably taken waaay longer than necessary, but I've ended up with something that I think is the most complete it can be.
I'll stop procrastinating, and just say it. I really like the ending, and I hope you will too.
So, without further ado, here is the final chapter of Kataclysm!

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12: Margrel, the Kat Tribe Hero

Scraith slashed through another Black Kat, kicked another and sidestepped as one of Oniten's spells flung past him and dissolved several more. The Black Kats were easy to fight, hardly managing to parry before being sent back to wherever they came from. But there were a lot of them. Eventually, what was left of Scraith, the Kat generals and the Owlites would tire. And then the merciless wave of darkness would overcome them.
"Hurry, Margrel." He hissed to himself.

The Darkness was unlike anyone Margrel had ever faced, at least, compared to the Owlite magician. Whilst her own defences were adequate, his were unbreakable, a deep crimson barrier preventing any of her attacks from hitting home. He was fast, too, hanging back and weaving protection spells before jumping in and hitting defences, leaping back to defend from Margrel's futile counterattack.
He was toying with her.
Just as Margrel was considering this, the Darkness leapt forward again, tearing through her shield with a dark claw, snatching her spellbook and sending her hurtling into the barrier. The Darkness held up the spellbook, sneering at it. "I SUPPOSE THIS WORTHLESS COLLECTION OF IDIOTIC PAGES PASSES FOR A SPELLBOOK IN THIS WORLD?" Before Margrel could react, the Darkness crushed book in his claw. "YOU WILL HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT."
Margrel picked herself up from the ground, pulling out something from her pouch. "I thought so as well. But don't worry." Margrel opened the collection of stolen pages, without cover or case, forged through her willpower.
"...I've made my own."

The other spellbooks were too weak, Margrel understood that now. This was an academy, and as such, the elders weren't exactly going to feed hundreds of inexperienced students powerful spells until they were ready. The shield spell that had defeated the Owlite she had encountered when she first entered the library was a small sketch scribbled by one of the students, probably one of a high level. Margrel had raided all of the more advanced spellbooks, stealing the most powerful spells from each one.
The flow of magic running through her bloodstream amplified as she opened her creation, her eyes flaring up again as fresh magical energy rushed through her irises. In seconds Margrel had shielded herself, deploying a new array of attacks before the Darkness had time to defend himself, and several of Margrel's missiles hit their target. "YOU... HOW DID YOU GET PAST THE ENCHANTMENTS?" The Darkness roared, charging into Margrel's shield, the impact from the two defence runes lighting up the makeshift arena. "I learned a thing or two from that book." Margrel commented, flinging a few incendiary spells at the Darkness before reshielding and darting back. "You've made a mistake putting me in here. Nowhere to run." With that, Margrel summoned all of her energy, the glow in her eyes becoming a blinding supernova as she gathered all of her strength. She chanted furiously, her hand a blur as she whipped through the vandalised pages, reciting the contents perfectly without so much as a glance downwards. Spells materialised, the raw power of the elements charging through Margrel, hanging in the air as they targeted the Darkness, standing blankly, terrified of the sheer power Margrel was exhibiting. It looked down furiously at its own spellbook, summoning magical barriers to defend itself, but it was too late. With a single word, Margrel sent the magical missiles flying towards the Darkness, the impact of pure magic energy onto darkness temporarily swathing its target in light.
Margrel blinked, the power fading, the makeshift spellbook dropping to the floor as Margrel fell to her knees, panting desperately. She looked up, the spot where the Darkness had been standing moments ago consisting of nothing but his dark tome, the shadows now shifting from the cover.

It was the Book of Grey Feathers.

The barrier faded, the Black Kats vanishing as the Darkness's power faded.
"...I won." Margrel realised, looking around at the Owlites and Kats that had survived, speechless at her display. "It's over..."
A hand appeared in Margrel's field of vision, the warm voice of Oniten filling the silent air. "It is indeed."
Margrel took it, hoisting herself up, taking a few seconds to look at each of the survivors. Scraith, sword still unsheathed despite the relief on his face. Preowa was sighing, giddy with relief. Torair was desperately trying to deactivate a bomb he had recently primed before the Darkness had been vanquished, but was still grinning maniacally all the same. Oona was helping Optum off of the ground, pulling out a bandage from her pouch and wrapping it round his arm. The other soldiers that had survived, Owlite and Kat alike, fell to the floor, breathing heavily. And as for Oniten, he regarded Margrel with awe, and he likely had hundreds of questions about her performance, but those could wait.
Margrel didn't crack a smile. "We have to go. Now."
"...Margrel? Are you sure you're alri-" Torair started, having tossed the half-primed bomb out of eyesight, only to be interrupted by Margrel mid-sentence.
"The Darkness was only a small part of something much bigger. We aren't safe here."
This came as a surprise to Oniten, taking a step back. "But... You defeated it..."
Margrel took a great big sigh, looking down
"I think so, but there isn't any way to be sure-"
Scraith cried out in surprise at something behind Margrel, sprinting towards her. Preowa and Oona took aim. Oniten jumped back, preparing a spell. Torair and Optum pulled out more bombs.
Two void-black claws began to crush Margrel's neck, beginning to collapse her windpipe. She let out a startled screech as the Darkness, reformed, held her high, Margrel's reflection choking her to death.
"YOU WANT TO LEARN, KAT?"
It roared, the claws strangling Margrel glowing furiously.
"HERE IS ALL THE INFORMATION YOU'LL EVER NEED."
Scraith couldn't reach her in time. The rounds from Oona and Preowa's crossbows weren't travelling fast enough. The bombs were still being primed. Oniten hadn't pulled out his spellbook yet. Half of the soldiers hadn't even realised the situation.
And so, nothing could stop the Darkness summoning all his power, transferring hundreds of thousands of pieces of data into Margrel's brain. She howled, clawing at the Darkness's iron grip, images of the past, present and future cascading into her brain, searing her senses and overloading her nervous systems. With a final jolt, the Darkness threw her across the library, sending her flying into a pillar, the sound of several bones snapping filling the stale air.

Before Margrel had realised it, Scraith was there, holding her, calling her name frantically. Oniten had sprinted over, applying healing runes to her ruined body. Out of the corner of her eye, Margrel could see the others trying to hold off the Darkness, fury alone powering their fighting. Margrel didn't process any of this. She was trying to overcome the waves of information that were still flooding through. Her breath came in short gasps, and she began to speak in short, undecipherable sentences.
"...The iron law is false... Our Kingdom will hold... The Wolves are no more..."
It came in no particular order, no pattern. Her brain was offloading information at random, trying to perceive it all.
"...Energy signatures are shifting... I am no mere Gremlin... This gizmo isn't worth dying for..."
Something began to change in her voice. It was becoming more stable. She was fighting the tide of centuries worth of data.
In the distance, the Darkness backhanded Torair as it was about to toss a bomb, kicking Optum into a bookshelf. Oona and Preowa stepped back, pummelling it's dark exterior with silver. The Darkness kept on coming. With one wave of its hand, the Darkness sent blasts of dark energy towards the marksmen, sending them toppling to the floor. Oniten turned, standing up, pulling out his spellbook and starting to chant, a weak barrier forming around the party.
"...I no longer serve the order... Within my dream... What it was before it is no more..."
Margrel sat up, groggily, her eyes a pure white, the fires of knowledge curling just out of sight within them. "...I... I understand now, Scraith."
The Darkness battered itself against the shield, Oniten recoiling as his concentration was tested and the barrier was cracked.
"We... We aren't supposed to defeat it..."
Bang. The barrier collapsed inwards, Oniten falling to the floor as shards of broken magical energy fell around him. He fell unconscious, the toll of holding a shield up against the Darkness for that long shutting him down. Scraith tore his shocked gaze away from Margrel, holding his sword up to parry a claw-strike from the Darkness, only for the other claw to send him hurtling backwards, sword clattering against the floor. Through his failing vision, he saw Margrel stand up, looking at the Darkness without expression.
"YOU ARE LOST, KAT. YOU HAVE NOT SURVIVED THE VISIONS, NO MORTAL CAN."
And then, Margrel spoke.
"I have. And I understand now. I understand what I must do."
Her hands shot out, grabbing the Darkness's claws, her eyes glowing with a primal ferocity as she peered into his shocked gaze. Without a spellbook, Margrel began to chant.

"For this world with which you toyed, I banish you into the void."

The Darkness writhed and howled, screeching as he was pulled in every direction at once. "NO! YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME!"

"Through my flesh and bone I will seal away, this monster that makes the shadows obey."

Pages began to fly out of books, a wind coming from nowhere sending them flying around Margrel and the Darkness. Scraith raised a hand, trying to reach them, groaning as his body tried to close him down for repairs. "...Margrel..." He whispered, fighting against the darkness that grew heavy around his eyelids. The chanting faded into the distance.
Scraith fell into a deep sleep.

Light.
Blinding light.
Scraith had no idea where he was. Had he died? Had the others? Had-
"Turn around, you idiot. I'm right here."
Margrel.
Scraith turned, catching sight of her, standing in wherever they were, sadness deep in her eyes.
"Am I... Are we..."
"Dead? No. You fell unconscious, so I decided to use this opportunity to say goodbye." Margrel told him, then, without warning, ran towards him, her arms wrapping tightly around him as a something glinted down her cheek.
"In the real world, I'm sealing away the Darkness with myself." She continued, stepping back. "We have some time before I finish the spell. I can explain things for you."
Scraith swallowed, taking this in. "How do you know the... You know, whatever you're doing?"
"The Darkness poured information from the future into my head, hoping it would fry my brain. I learned a few tricks by surviving. I can get rid of it for a while, but it won't be the end."
The glint reflected in whatever light was illuminating the limbo that they were both in, shining off of Margrel's tears.
"It'll come back, using whatever's left of me to try and take back whatever's left of this world."
Margrel sighed, brushing her face.
"We'll find it! We'll find you, too. Me and the others will pursue you to the ends of the world." Scraith said, a hopeful tone entering his desperate voice. Margrel simply shook her head.
"You won't be there to save me. None of you will."
"Then... It's pointless..." Scraith began, with no intention of finishing the sentence. Margrel shook her head more defiantly this time.
"Where there is darkness, there will always be light. They will come, falling from the stars. They'll stop the Darkness, and stop what the Darkness serves."
Margel looked up at Scraith.
"I have seen the future. The Darkness is just a puppet. The real fight is yet to come, but They will win. They have to."
Scraith took Margrel's hand, holding it tightly, as if it would vanish. "Who? Who will come? Who will win?"
Margrel hugged Scraith again, telling him, before ending the dream.
She had one last thing to do.
"Before I forget, Scraith. Thank you."

"YOU... YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM, YOU CANNOT EVEN SAVE YOURSELF!"
The voice of the Darkness, quivering with fear, brought Margrel back to reality. She did not reply, simply looking up, through the hole in the roof she made ages ago, up at the moon, the sovereign beauty of it staying with her even when she closed her eyes, the last truly beautiful thing she would ever see. Yes. This was how she would remember the world. Her world.
Margrel chanted, finishing the spell, and sending them both deep into the abyss.

Scraith awoke with a start, sitting up straight, screaming Margrel's name as he took in the morning sun. The sun. He was alive.
"At last. I was getting worried that you weren't as tough as I'd hoped."
Orvin was there, sitting by Scraith's makeshift bed, sharpening his sword with a rock. Scraith stood up groggily, regarding the Owlite High Academy of Magicks, and the Kats and Owlites who were inhabiting the war camp, still intact from the night before. Scraith turned to Orvin. "Tell me everything."
Orvin grinned in response, standing up alongside Scraith.
"We found you in the library. All unconscious, with no sign of the Darkness. But Margrel was missing. In the meantime, the peace treaty you decreed earlier became a little more concrete, but I'm not sure how your tribe leader is going to react to that decision."
"He can go and throw himself off a cliff for all I care. Just wait till I get back." Scraith grimly responded. Orvin laughed.
"I suppose so, I'd hate to be in his shoes. On another note, the others are worried about Margrel. Did you see her? What happened?"
Scraith simply sighed, recalling the last few moments he spent with Margrel. "She said... She told me she was sealing away the Darkness with her body, and that he would eventually overpower her and use her to return. But... She said something else. She said that... They would stop it."
"Who, Scraith? Who would stop her?"
Whoever these people were, Scraith swore to himself that he would find them. He would find them and help them stop the Darkness and bring back Margrel.
"The Knights, Orvin."

"The Spiral Knights."

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Thank yous are in order for this thing. So, here they are:
-My tutor, for getting me into stories and writing
-OOO, for making an amazing game with so many worlds woven into the chaotic mass of story we call Cradle
-You, fine sir/madam, for taking time out of your (probably) busy schedule to read this. Thank you!

So what did you think? Do you, for some bizarre reason, want more of the dribble I call stories? Or do you just want me to shove off and stop flipping coming along for your Vanaduke runs and messing the whole thing up? Tell meh!

That's all from me, I'm off to farm fire crystals. See ya!

-Alfreton