As Ezall wandered deeper into the isles of villages, the presence of demonic creatures arose. A furious wind lashed the land, no doubt from the storms caused by the giant rift in the sky. People were retreating away from the monstrous creatures, trying to save their lives. The demons increased steadily, Ezall noted that they became more and more coherent, compared to the first imps that attacked him.
These were more organized, and deadlier as a result. Suddenly he found himself in a town square, as many people scurried away from the creatures. He saw a brawny fellow fighting back against a skeletal soldier, who held a giant blade ready to lop off his head. This fellow seemed luckier than most who resisted, as he was quick in his response to the skeleton’s repeated slices of his blade.
Most others continued fleeing, apart from a few grappling with imps and lesser demons. Ezall decided to help those who resisted, and perhaps salvage this group of humans. He leapt into the air, and with his wooden spear, he thrust the shaft into the skull of an imp. The creature held onto the stick and was about to snap it in two had Ezall not given the creature swift kick of wind. Ezall paused when he saw the effect, he had no idea what had just transpired.
His eyes narrowed, then he stared at the imp, who Ezall had knocked back. He raised his palm at it, a flush of wind began swirling in between his fingers and around his hand. He was completely mystified, was he dreaming? What was happening to his hand?
“Say these words,” a voice beckoned to him from the deepest recesses of his mind
“Say ‘Enim Ventus’ and do it quickly, that creature is headed towards you,” Ezall realized it wasn’t his voice in his mind, but that of another. The voice was deep and protruding, but it was filled with a strength that could only be described as divine. It was coarse and rough, yet flowed like the wind. He turned to face the imp as it lunged at him.
“Enim Ventus!” his eyes glowed in a sparkling grey which made the imp cower in fear, especially with his booming voice as he said it. The wind swirling around his hand turned to ethereal spears and rushed forth into the imp’s throat. From the inside, the winds ripped apart the creature into quarters, dissolving it before his eyes.
The blast sent another imp reeling backwards into another demon, who turned towards Ezall. The downed imp recovered, and with his comrade, charged at Ezall. He took a step back, unprepared for their assault, but then the voice in his mind resumed again.
“Say it again.” Ezall felt compelled to say the words again, putting complete trust into the voice in his head, even though a part of him resisted this voice.
“Enim Ventus,” Ezall whispered, the whispering wind of his mouth turned into a swift gust that pushed the imps backwards. All of this only attracted more attention.