Part VIII: Weapon of Mass Destruction
Chapter 9: The Twin Towers Fall
Timeline: Mining Day, AO 299
True to his word, Hef Fastuz crafted three additional ghasts for Hacktor by the end of the year AO 298. On the surface, these weapons appeared every bit as magnificent as the original Ghast—testaments to Hef’s unparalleled skill. Each blade gleamed with the same cold, deadly beauty, and the weight of a ghast in one’s hand was enough to inspire a fierce sense of power and confidence. But despite their outward perfection, these replicas lacked the divine essence of the original. They were not true Ghasts—how could they be? Without the added powers of the gods, they were mere shadows of the original.
Yet, even shadows have their uses. Hacktor needed these blades to rally his people, to give them something tangible to hold onto in the face of the trials ahead. The weight of a ghast, even a counterfeit, was enough to stir the hearts of the Drokka and inspire them to follow Hacktor into the darkness.
The meeting at Iztak was arranged by Mirkir the Wyze, for Hacktor was already in the kingdom to celebrate Mining Day. The air was thick with the smell of earth and stone, a constant reminder of the Drokka’s connection to the land. The celebration was one of the few times when the usually cold and stoic kingdom of Iztak would come alive with warmth and light, as fires blazed in every hearth and the sound of hammers striking metal echoed through the streets – they were fires that matched the blaze inside Hacktor’s heart.
While Hacktor was away, his sister Hecla was weaving a web of deceit back at Rhokii Pass. She had become a master of manipulation, her beauty and cunning as dangerous as any blade. With Hacktor occupied, Hecla turned her attention to their father, Baldur. She knew his weaknesses, knew exactly how to tempt him. With a promise whispered in the shadows, she lured him with the offer of a forbidden tryst, promising to let him ravish her from the top of the northern tower of the Siq as the new year arrived.
Hecla made a show of leaving Rhokii Pass, her departure staged with careful precision to ensure that Baldur would believe she was traveling to The Siq to prepare for their rendezvous. She made sure her departure was witnessed by enough people to lend credibility to her story, but once she was safely out of sight, she doubled back, slipping into the hidden passageways that only she knew so well. Her destination was not The Siq, but her own chambers, where she would wait out the storm she was about to unleash.
Baldur, blinded by his lust and trust in his daughter, took the bait and made the journey to The Siq. Once there, he eagerly prepared himself for what he believed would be a night of forbidden pleasure, making his way to the highest room of the highest tower as midnight arrived on Mining Day.
But when he arrived, the room was empty. The only thing waiting for him was a single note, penned in Hecla’s elegant hand. The words in the note were sharp as any blade, cutting Baldur to the core. Hecla gloated over his impending doom, revealing that the child Arkan—the boy Baldur had thought nothing more than a nuisance—was, in fact, his son. The revelation twisted the knife further, the thought of his bloodline continuing in the form of that bastard child filling him with rage and despair. But it was the final line that sealed his fate: Hecla’s promise to kill Arkan, snuffing out the last remnant of Baldur’s legacy.
The king’s shock quickly turned to horror as he realized the true nature of Hecla’s betrayal. The rumble of distant explosions reached his ears just as he finished reading the note, the floor beneath him trembling as the towers of The Siq began to crumble.
As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, the Derkka infiltrators, guided by Busz’s spies, lit the fuses on the charges they had placed. The combustible material roared to life, a force of nature contained within the stone walls of The Siq. The ground trembled as the explosive power tore through the foundations, ripping the towers from their moorings.
A deafening roar echoed through the mountains as the towers collapsed, their once-imposing forms crumbling into dust and rubble. For the weapon of mass destruction, placed by the Priory of the Myz at my command, had been activated. The Twin Towers, once symbols of strength and security, fell like matchsticks, their mighty stone walls reduced to rubble in a matter of moments!
The devastation was absolute. Everyone within a mile of the blast site was obliterated—countless trade merchants from clans throughout TerrVerde, thousands of Drokka, the entire king’s guard, General Ortwin, and of course, Kon-Herr Baldur himself. The king’s last moments were spent in a state of utter disbelief, his dreams of power and conquest turned to ash as the world crumbled around him.
And what of Hecla? She remained safely tucked away in her chambers. At midnight on Mining Day arrived, her lips curled into a cruel smile – Rhokki Pass was too far away for the princess to hear even the echoes of the explosion, but Hecla was sure that the cabal’s plan had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams.
As for the members of the Priory of the Myz who had carried out the attack, their fates were sealed the moment they set the explosives. Each of them perished in the blast, despite their expectations of eternal rewards from Zar in the afterlife. Little did they know that their sacrifice would only serve to further my own ends, their lives snuffed out like so many others before them. But rest assured, they did receive one reward — they all lost their souls to me.
When news of the Twin Towers’ fall finally reached Rhokki Pass, the Drokka public was thrown into a state of shock and despair. And that’s when things really got fun!
The Apocrypha of Azazel 