They looked over their heads at the blood-red sky. A sky of doom, an omen. Something about it made Dark Weaver think there was a competition between them and another entity in destroying worlds.
They looked at their wounded wing. It was reforming, but slowly. Still useless; flight was not an option yet.
Down the cracked road, they saw a cluster of Umbra feasting on something. These ones were of a smaller variety and weaker. There was no other creature in this realm that disgusted them more. They did not waste their energy killing the Umbra with oblivion; instead, they used fire or ice. Appalling creatures, they thought as they made their hand blaze.
They fired a missile of flame. It exploded on contact with one of them, the splash catching the other four.
As the Umbra burned, Dark Weaver found the building they stood before to be familiar, though parts of it had been shuffled by the shift. The safe house.
They climbed up the steps towards the top. Perhaps the rest of the party were there, discussing their plans.
The place was empty. The power had gone out, and the food had rotted in the fridge. When their gaze passed by the table and the living room, naive one grew restless, stirred by memory. This is the … Nuallis, no, the impurity, fought for control.
Dark Weaver could hear the memories of the vacant room: the laughter, the joy, the stories.
"We erred coming here," Dark Weaver said out loud, "you influenced us." They made their hand glow bright with oblivion. "Watch this place vanish."
The cankered energies reduced the table to glowing green embers, the carpet yielding to reveal the raw materials below. The whole place was ablaze with the dark light of oblivion. The Dark Weaver could sense the anguish in the impurity within.
They walked towards the shattered window and looked down at the red-painted city. There was a crash of thunder then. Dark Weaver saw a bolt come down near the theater.
So that is where they must be. Dark Weaver left the safe house to burn, going down to the street level and heading towards the theater.
Dark Weaver saw some lower-level Umbra on the way; they looked to be fleeing in her direction. They destroyed them, quickly and easily.
In the theater, there seemed to be nothing stirring. Dark Weaver moved quietly, as to not be detected. Voices were heard from one of the auditoriums. An Umbra, as it was moving through the hall, knocked over a table. The vase of flowers that stood on it crashed onto the floor. They killed the creature for its carelessness, using oblivion; it seemed like one of a higher level.
"You're hiding," they called out as they entered the auditorium. "Face your obliteration without fear."
But no one came out. Even after Dark Weaver burned the curtains and most of the seats, none of the survivors appeared. "Hmph," they uttered as they made their uninjured hand blaze with hellfire once more. She let her missiles fly, catching on whatever they could. "Soon, they will have naught to hide in but the ash."
ns 15.158.61.20da2
