Chapter 48

It was unnerving how quiet everything was. Even when I could see the giant spider-gators barreling toward me, their movements were far too quiet, their presence betrayed only by the sound of dirt crumbling from the walls as they charged forward, claw-tipped legs tearing at the walls as they ran. I braced myself for the coming bite, slapping the jaw away at the last moment to get up underneath it. I rammed my hand, fingers like a blade, into the underside of its’ head. A brief flicker of flame surrounded my fingers, the barest illumination leaking out as I tried to limit the amount of actual fire created. My hand sank in nearly up to the elbow, the gooey innards far too spider-like as I tried to pull away from the collapsing body. Long claws scrabbled at me, tearing small rents in my coat as I twisted away, the dying thrashes of the creature still dangerous. I swept my hands through the air like broad fans, slapping away the small, darting forms of the moth-like bats, every strike crushing two or three of them even as they tried to reach my face, fangs and claws extended.

I drew in a couple of breaths as deeply as I could, trying to feel out the movements of the swarm, and drew my arm back, throwing a spear of flame and force toward a fleshy sac suspended along one of the walls, various apertures like mouths gaping open to spill out more of the bats. The attack burned into its’ flesh, and it twisted away, stubby legs tearing free of the walls as it attempted to flee, looking like nothing more than a bloated torso on six stubby, chitinous legs. I threw a flat disc of flame toward it, cutting off two of the legs, before immediately drawing the energy back and diving forward to stomp into it, the body rupturing instantly under the force. Half-formed bat-like shapes swam in the sludge of its’ body before going still, the hive-creature finally falling lifeless to the ground.

My robes were soaked at the hem in blood and ichor, the fabric clinging to my calves as I twisted and fought, dragging against my skin with a disgusting slippery sensation. Even from just a handful of endless minutes of fighting, I’d had to start seriously reining in my use of fire, the air becoming unpleasantly stifling. While the smoke and heat didn’t bother me, the thinness of the air did, and I was forced to keep pulling back every trace of flame that my attacks created to try and stretch out the supply for as long as possible. The only exception was the candleflame hanging over my head, bobbing and weaving with my movements and casting uncertain shadows on the walls.

I ripped off one of the dead creature’s legs and slapped at the long, probing tongue of the starfish slug – a Hangman’s Bloom, according to the notifications – and it wrapped instinctively around the limb, dragging it upward so forcefully that I stumbled from releasing the limb a moment too slowly. It was horrifying to see how quickly it would shovel the stolen parts into its’ mouth, slug-like lips dragging the carcass inward with a long, slithering movement of the tongue, before dropping it back into the cave to try and fish for another snack. By the time the tongue dipped back down, I was long gone, shoulders hunched as I sprinted down a branching cave-path, turning sideways as it narrowed abruptly down to only a couple of feet across, briefly thankful that I was wearing robes instead of armor. I slid through, the walls pressing in enough to briefly drive the air from my lungs, though I popped out on the other side easily enough. I drew in a deep, shaky breath, and laughed as the passage behind me blocked up with the press of bodies, two spider-gators snapping at each other as they fought to push past each other through the narrow gap.

I turned to inspect the area in front of me, realizing that the chamber opened up vastly before me, the ceiling spreading upward dozens of feet. In the dim light of my candleflame, I couldn’t even see where the walls curved away, dirt replaced by a solid net of roots anchored to patches of dirty grey stone. Faint lights twisted around the space, as if fireflies danced in and out of sight, their illumination little more than enough to draw the eye; as if the structure they orbited required any further attention or introduction.

Broad wooden doors, with intricate iron vines banding them stood open at the base of a wide stone tower, the walls stretching upward until they met the ceiling above, enveloped in dirt and stone as it ascended. I took a step forward, as if doubting my eyes, and felt something squirm beneath my feet, accompanied by a crunching sound.

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I looked down to see a web of vines stretching across the floor of the immense space, and something much like a ripple went out through it from my step, the surface of the vines running like water. Beneath it, revealed here and there where they had piled too highly, were bones. Uncounted and uncountable, hundreds of bodies, thousands, ranging from the fine finger-length bones of tiny creatures like the moth-bats to bones that were clearly human-sized; some were far, far larger, a lengthy femur that probably would’ve been taller than me when stood upright, descending into a cracked pelvic bone that looked wide enough to use as a tower shield.

The carpet of greenery writhed and squirmed as figures began to press against it from below, hands reaching toward the fireflies, eyeless skulls pushing through the net as if trapped below, as if it wasn’t the ground that lay beneath but an endless ocean of bodies. A path remained clear from my feet to the open doors, the ‘waters’ still beneath the carpet of green, the edges of the path undulating as endless throngs struggled to break free around me, churning into waves where larger creatures seemed to try and force their way through. Trepidation seized me, my mind struggling to deal with the countless dead that lay spread out before me. Still, the smooth path beckoned to me, like a promise of power hanging in the air with all the weight of the Doom of Damocles.

As I took my first step onto the path, I could see a figure standing in the doorway. It was difficult to tell where the vines ended and the humanoid shape began, blending so seamlessly together that they almost seemed the same. “Allow me to welcome you,” the voice began, low and soft, both at the edge of hearing and coldly clear. “You are the first to come so deeply, to reach my very center of power. It is a… old ritual of mine, to greet those who would come to kill me. To have come so far is no mean feat; I would remember your name, so that you will not become lost within my Sea of Souls.”

I froze at the weight of power in his voice, certain that the force behind it could crack stone with a careless word. My chest tightened as primal fear clawed at me, his aura dense and immovable as a mountain. I opened my mouth to speak, but my lungs refused to cooperate, throat tightening at the very idea of drawing the attention of such a powerful being.

The shape stepped forward, its’ brow entwined with a crown of tiny, perfectly manicured trees, each growing into a perfect, seamless part of the whole, branches thickening into the weave of a simple crown. “The path to power is fraught with danger and death… David.” It spoke, as if tasting my name on its’ tongue, eyes peering out from beneath its’ craggy brow, stunningly human in appearance. “But also with opportunity. I draw my Guardians from amongst the most powerful in every trial. Some serve willingly, others less so. If you can reach the top of this tower,” he gestured to the doors behind him, “then I will allow you to choose to serve me. If you fall, I will choose for you.” His gaze flicked over me, face slowly changing into a scowl like glacial melt carving through stone, giving a sense of the passage of endless time. “But with your… abilities, perhaps not.” His tone was dismissive, and I felt the pressure around me increasing, the air itself flooded with such density of energy that my lungs felt too weak to move it.

“If you stand before these doors and slay all who come for me, I will perhaps reconsider. Otherwise…” He glanced upward, toward where the stone of the tower merged into the ceiling of the cave. “I wish you the very best of luck in your attempt.”

I shoved a hand forward to throw a desperate firebolt, fighting against the leaden sensation of fear in my veins to attack; the vines collapsed to the floor, returning to their positions in the web of greenery as smoothly as water. The sensation of pressure lessened, and I struggled to draw in a breath for a moment, the sensation of absolute, crushing terror still fresh in my mind. The helplessness. The powerlessness. I felt weak in the face of that absolute monster that stood before me, even if it was just an avatar. But as I stared at the small, smoldering place where my attack had struck, I knew that mere fear wouldn’t be enough to hold me back. I wasn’t powerless. I wasn’t helpless. Now, I was angry.