Harbingers of Emptiness, bearers of the void, the ancients whose realm this once was and soon would again be, descended like dark tempests upon a world abandoned by Ashen and Cinder Lords alike. The Lords still lurked in their own domains, yet not for long, not before such mighty foes as these.

Slowly, as if pained, the Soul of Cinder tore his gaze from the Flame he guarded, rising and sweeping his immense blade flecked with ember, wrought of black metal that was at once lost as fire rolled across its coarse length. Mist grey and bleak had stolen the heavens, and crept now along the earth, roiling like tempestuous seas, reaching plaintive arms in all directions as void's foul Sovereigns descended upon the world they had long been denied.

Trepidation seized the Soul of Cinder's ancient heart in its fist of ice, his blood slicing through his veins in a river of shattered glass. He flared the cinder's warmth, light blazing from his flesh, rising from his heart and eyes in radiant bands that lagged a breath behind his movements, tracing thin arcs through the air as he shifted, gazing uneasily upon the approaching mist.

Then, from the impenetrable depths stumbled a figure garbed in wisps of vapor, a thin form that shambled upon abnormally long legs, its arms limp at its sides, talons glinting upon the tips of its fingers. It looked upon the Soul of Cinder, cocking its head as if amused, then shuddered, plates of white rippling from its body, flames of black surging between. Where the Soul of Cinder was ragged, the Void Blighted Soul was smooth and ornate, the scaled, glowing flesh replaced with swathes of almond shaped scales pale as virgin snow and just so bitterly cold. Its eyes closed as scales spread over its features, protruding outward in a elegant facsimile of the metal skull perched atop the Soul of Cinder's shoulders. Cinder and Void matched heated stares, the first sharpened by fear, tempered by hate, the latter a bottomless abyss of rage that dwarfed the Sun itself in its intensity.

The Blighted Soul lunged, falling upon the Soul of Cinder in a silvered tempest, a long, slender blade materializing in its off hand, streaking beneath the off balanced Cinder's guard, and hammering against his ribs with the thunderous, indomitable force of a landslide. He staggered back, wrenching his trembling blade upward, catching his foe's next strike with a radiant flare, sparks glinting as they rolled off his charred gauntlet and poured to the rough earth below. Without breaking stride, his foe swept its glittering blade around, coming in from on high like a diving falcon, its edge grinding against his as desperately raising his blade, the Cinder retreated.

Where his technique was brutal, this monster's was calm and fluid, its blade a blurred ribbon that came whistling through the air, menacing him from a thousand angles at once, battering his armour, hissing against his flesh. The Cinder fell to its knees, dented visor turned earthward, defeat hanging like a mantle of lead upon it.

Behind it, the flame surged, swelling in its tomb, blazing with blinding light. Strength poured through him, the embers among rippling darkness of his skin glowing, then catching flame, wreathing him in light. His blade swept up, catching his foe's descending sword upon its glittering edge, bathing his upturned face in sparks, his eyes blazing over its curved surface, boring into those of his foe. He heaved the monster's weapon aside, sending it stumbling past as he lunged, his sword still tangled with that of the Blighted Soul. Pivoting on his leading foot, adding momentum to his considerable strength, he slammed his fist against the monster's face, shattering its pale helm, sending it reeling. The Soul of Cinder stood, blade out wide, fist weeping tendrils of ashen blood from a thousand thousand gashes. Looking upon that pale beast as it rose, bleak mask caved on the left side, serpentine carvings visible amid the ruin and reaching across the intact half of its face, he felt a chill slither along his spine. Unease soured into fear as the Blighted Soul advanced, metal flecks drifting like motes of soot from its shattered mask, cold silver eyes burning into his.

Whether he acknowledged it or not, the Soul knew this fight, would be his last.