13.

“Erak?” Sammus whispered. The hours had past in a mostly enjoyable silence, the three companions working their way through the forest. Nothing had passed in front of them larger than a bird. There was almost an eeriness in the forest, life stripped bare from its ancient grounds.

At least until they came upon the house by the lake. Humidity had begun to sneak into the air while the scent of water teased their senses. The buzzing of insects had begun to grow, little bugs flitting through the air as the sun was setting, golden sky burning red with black smoke still choking the edges.

The lake was glowing with the fires of the setting sun, swarmed by a sea of insects that raced amongst the protruding pond vegetation. The mud was thick around the border of the lake, things wiggling in the wet soil as Erak turned his gaze away from the lake and towards where Sammus was staring.

The house was nestled between trees, small compared to the villas that decorated the woods. Two stories of stained wood with a wraparound porch that was covered in tight, black netting. The red door in the middle of the house had an ugly, black mark on it.

A black glyph that sucked in the light around it. That drew one’s mind and eye deeper and deeper. Erak ripped his eyes away as he gripped the dragonbone sword tight and looked around, the picturesque environment suddenly filled him with dread. It was the same glyph he had seen at the hangar bay filled with the creations of the dark alchemist.

“Are we going into the house?” Sammus asked.

Erak nodded as he trudged through the thin brush and toward the house. The glyphs grew and grew until they dominated his sight, ripping at his mind and trying to consume his conscious. Pomp was there though, the icy winds of his Essence buffering Erak’s mind. Even in the temperate woods, so mild that they were almost offensive, he could smell the bitter winds off the Ice Sea.

It kept him from falling into the stupor like he had last time. Erak’s metal boot crashed through the wood, explosive power that ripped the door clean off its hinges. A smell came flooding out, overripe fruit, rotting meat, and rich soil. Erak fought back the sudden urge to gag and surged into the house, blade in front of himself.

Demons lay butchered everywhere he looked. Infernal Soldiers, Lesser Hellspawn, and Hellspawn Scavengers, all limp in death. Clotted blood and dried viscera was smeared everywhere, the demons all cracked open wide. Erak didn’t know what the exact biology of the demon’s were, but he was certain they were missing organs.

“What horror is this?” Sammus whispered behind him as the two of them prowled forward. Pomp stayed on his normal perch, claws holding tight to the thin creases in Erak’s armor.

“This seems similar to the alchemist inside of the floating docks,” Pomp said and Sammus grunted in annoyance.

“I know that, Pomp. I was there. We killed the alchemist though.”

“Never found the painter,” Pomp said for Erak.

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The prince didn’t say anything, just continued to work through the dark home. Erak didn’t see any natives among the butchered, only demons. There were no cocoons here, only rotting flesh. Nothing was alive in the house, the dark work done here had happened days ago.

“Erak, these things have been dead for days. I doubt there is anything left of value here,” Sammus called out from across the house and Erak grunted in agreement. Erak turned and walked back to the foyer and started up the stairs as Sammus walked out to the front porch.

Each step made the wood creak under his weight and Erak looked around the rooms in the second story. Down below was the living spaces, kitchen, bathrooms, and a living room. The second floor was all bedrooms. Torn apart bedding, strewn personal belongings, and a trio of dead humans in the master bedroom. They had the similar looks of close family and the appropriate ages for a father, mother, and an adult daughter.

Blood stained their shirts above their hearts, no other wounds visible. They weren’t desecrated like the demons below. Quick and clean blows that had pierced their hearts and then tossed to the side like debris. Erak looked out the window and saw that the window observed the lake.

With the higher angle he could peer down into the clear depths of the lake and his heart shuddered with horror as he saw what lay down there. The lake floor was littered with cocoons, dozens of wide and thick pearlescent cocoons that glowed with an inner light, red flame burning in their centers.

There was something disturbing about the cocoons. About the dissolution of one’s self as they were reshaped into something other. Erak’s knuckles popped as he gripped the bonesword’s hilt. A bubble rose up from the center of the lake, coming from the center of the clutch of cocoons. It breached the surface and popped with a flash of light, flame spiraled out of the bubble and danced over the top of the placid lake.

Sammus appeared as he walked away from the cover of the house, with his sword drawn. Another bubble emerged and then another and another until the surface was roiling like pot on the stove. Erak jumped through the window, tearing apart part of the window frame. He crashed into the roof of the porch and drilled straight through the wood to land lightly on his feet in a shower of wood splinter.

He caught Sammus in three strides as the prince stood a distance from the lake, watching as burst after burst of fire raced across the top. Heat was wafting from the lake, growing in intensity as steam rose up until there a fog began to form as the sun set. Darkness seeped into the forest until the only light came from the fires that boiling away the lake.

Erak and Sammus retreated further away from the lake, forced away by the heat. Neither of them thought about retreating, the horror of the hangar had never left them. They had been bonded by the experience with a hatred and revulsion for the darkness they had seen in that hangar. They would not allow it to fester here.

“Not long now,” Pomp said as the moon’s light shone upon them. Through the haze of smoke from the still burning capital it was weak and Erak strained to see beyond the orange light of the burning bubbles. The lake had shrunk noticeably and the steam kept rising, filling the air with moisture as sweat dripped down Erak’s back.

The thick mud had dried out, cracking as the moisture was burned out of it. A hand pierced the roiling flames, reaching out of the lake in a sudden grasping motion. The flames tripled in frequency and size, so fierce and hot that even the steam was blown away.

A head emerged, long and conical with a flat face that had no features save a pair of slits for nostrils. Bare onyx carapace that cracked open to show a series of wide, flat teeth that looked as if they were made for crushing stone. It started to walk closer to them, emerging from the burning lake to stand on the recently dried out lake shore.

It was nearly as tall as Erak was, but thin and spindly. Six arms and two legs, all spindly chitin and backwards joints. Wet wings were drooping behind it, tall and wide, translucent with blue veins that stretched across the membranes. Erak looked at it and saw the words above its head and knew that they were staring at the Dark Alchemist’s master’s works.