In a distant place, the land of Eburos.
“ve gurufotuiokr wesgubriotu, capoguing ruef—rozekr sepoef gu uhzurive riselu—ruzukr rozefis ruef gu wesgustnd Nuitulekivekr. Zezubr nuitugubr iouhkiponuibrnd...”
(An abject farce, slain by—not only a human monk—but now by a fallen Deviant. Our dear children...)
A single tear slowly fell down the woman’s chalk-white skin. Her colorless eyes of a branched pattern glowed dimly as she gazed at the string of light that came from above. She held her left arm upward, toward a small hole in the cavern, as if she were grasping beyond the light itself.
“nkica wesgunuite fisreponui kica nt rutu rupollcane ruef krin uhvenuica zewes krin brzuingzezuca luingnuibrne. gu candkrkirindkr cauhgubrne, eftukr efzezu erfotuiokr Zuca ookist?”
(This fading world is to be blessed by the hands of the ruinous kindred. A sentiment shared, yet you reject Us still?)
Her voice was echoing clearly throughout, yet her lips didn’t move even once. She continued to bask in the light, standing still atop a centered and derelict frustum. At the tower’s base, she was surrounded by a small grove of evergreen trees. And underneath their sprawling branches, laid a multitude of resting beasts—crude, draconic carvings made from Wych Elm.
“Those visitors of Adyma, faithless and intractable, guided by such haunting and lingering volition. You should know better than to be surprised by their reluctance. Their souls may be here, but the many seldomly stray from that attachment to their past world.”
Her lips curled, and with it came a sudden shift in her demeanor. A change as natural to her as the shadow underneath her feet.
“Hence why the Heart of Aerith chose them.”
She retracted her hand and began pushing back the wandering strands of her black-and-white hair behind her ear. Her once saddened expression had completely transformed into a telling smirk filled with pride.
“Nevertheless, they’re still far easier to deal with than he was. And that boisterous monk that finally fled from Espen wasn’t fit to begin with. But that man, the one chosen by Judgement; I still believe he will—”
She suddenly held her tongue as a dense, bubbling noise came from near the cavern's entrance. A small portal formed, creating a bright and formless doorway of seemingly dark matter.
“rupollcane rutu ki ing krin Zess'ca nnbrllndiotu.”
(Blessed be I in the One's presence.)
A sincere chant that came from a bowing, cowled figure as he stepped out of the portal. His frayed and grayed horns were neatly protruding from small, gold-plated slots in his deep red hood.
“This is a rather sudden visit, Estreth. I don’t recall any arrangements being made prior warranting this meeting. Then again, I doubt someone like yourself would simply visit on a whim either.”
“Please forgive me, but I arrive with fair reason. As it stands, it has been quite a while since our last meeting, Your Holiness, Lady Avya. I’d wager, say, around fifteen years, hm?”
“That it has. Now, raise your head and approach.”
Estreth gestured his thankfulness in a slight nod, steadily making his way to the base of her tower. And with each step forward, the draconic carvings awoke, and eyed the sudden visitor cautiously.
“Sanctified and transmuted Wych Elm—a riveting sight to witness, as always. If only I could take a small peek at their inner workings.”
“You carny pundit, as curious as ever. I remember telling you to rid yourself of that inane desire.”
Avya made her way to the edge of her towering domain, sending a piercing glare Estreth’s way as he reached the base of her stairway. He avoided meeting her colorless eyes, once again bowing with his hand over his carmine-cloaked chest.
“My apologies, Your Holiness. It’s simply within my nature, after all, to learn is to live. And the lamented Elven sovereign, Ondine, made certain to prevent anyone from further toying with her configurations.”
He turned his head slightly to his side, meeting the sight line of a Wych Elm beast whose glowing eyes were glued to his person.
“This is the only nest where—one devoid of Elven blood within—can even touch such a creation without dying from her agonizing taint.”
“Hers? Heh. And that’s where you would be mistaken, Estreth.”
Avya chuckled eerily, sending a shiver down Estreth’s hunchback spine as he hesitated to look toward her. Her voice was a binding net, brimmed with grapnel across every thread.
“The mind’s frailty, aging is a grim hue. Affecting even the renowned Sage of Ospus, I see.”
“onlltu uhguan gupofisguefca rutoro Zezubrca, venui ongukr kist-leguengupo sepoef eeontrne zeponuind breskrca zewes Zezubrca. venui Fistu fiszezuponui orletr veefzess ongukr gukreerinnkrca nt uhgubrri ongukr fisuhkiiouh kica Zezubrca.”
(These have always been Ours, and that ill-vassal only tethered olden roots of Ours. And We would sever anyone that attempts to harm that which is Ours.)
“Now, speak your reason for being here today, Sage.”
Estreth cleared his throat, seemingly realizing his carelessness in peering a bit too directly at the sun. He was one that prioritized nurturing the ambition of researching everything their world had to offer. If an object of curiosity existed within reach, he would learn how it worked one way or another. But what stood before him in that cavern, was something he knew he couldn’t—and shouldn’t—act against nor displease any further.
“Your Holiness, I stand before you here, carrying a foretoken of tribulations. This is regarding our ally in Cretho. The one given the task of overseeing that country’s dealings; the human referred to as Elemnin.”
“Ah, yes, that human maven entrusted with the removal of the Heart of Aerith’s imprint. What of him?”
“He was unceremoniously...felled, found as a bloodless husk by the Crethian detail amid their festival.”
He became silent for a short moment, awaiting a response from Avya that wouldn’t come. He lifted his head, peeking in her direction only to find her looking back toward the light that came from above. He decided to continue.
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“...It was one of Aldebaran’s ‘Morrigan’ that attacked him. One of the two that ran away from his territory and bears an Infernal title. She claims the name Essylt, The Hollow.”
“A loose extension of that Crown, hm? It seems that the Heart of Aerith is rather busy entangled in its own ploy that we’re crossing paths where we shouldn’t. That being said...”
She turned toward Estreth, wearing another brilliant and telling smirk.
“Elemnin, killed? That precautious man isn’t dead. He simply found the answer he was looking for in a way he surely wasn’t expecting.”
Estreth was both visibly confused and yet ensnared by the embrace of his inner curiosity. She was without any blemishes from even a single falsehood, bestowing only truths.
“But...Your Holiness, his corpse was verified by a Qualm hidden from within...”
“A bloodless husk, is what you referred to it as, right?”
Estreth nodded and Avya chuckled once more, evidently understanding something that he himself didn’t.
“You’ve truly become dulled over the years, Estreth. That human was allowed the teachings of Necromancy in exchange for his service to Us. He desired immortality—to reach that which he idolized—and I gifted him the tool and knowledge in making such a wish possible.”
Avya seemed unusually delighted in hearing about Elemnin’s reported death. She paced around her towering domain, walking in circles as she dangled her linked arms behind her back. Her translucent, bare-back dress dragged against the ground, suppressing a faint display of glint from underneath.
“In the realm of Necromancy, a first breath taken from a life eternal has a price that can only be paid in one’s blood and death. A mere husk is child’s play for one of his altered kind.”
“So, that means...”
Estreth was beginning to understand exactly what Avya was implying. He already understood the basics of Necromancy, but the teachings granted by Avya were far different—more potent—from what the standard Class could achieve.
“...Elemnin isn’t dead, but nor is he alive. A blind spot... kikr catorica ki ookist uhguan rizuiouh nt potugubrro, ulend gukr rief guvutu.”
(It seems I still have much to learn, even at my age.)
The morality of all, but the One before him and the primordial spirits, were fettered by death’s reach. And he understood that such a feasible transfiguration could only come from her teachings alone.
“Now, come, little one...”
Avya gestured her hand outward, and shortly after, a serpent-like carving with two wings and no arms or legs flew toward her from one of the trees. It wrapped itself around her arm, resting its head within her palm as she moved it closer to her face. She tapped her head against the dragon’s, passing her own knowledge onto the creature.
“Search for that one and bring them to Us. He has yet to leave the capital, but he is surely in hiding. Do not let Us down, dear child of Ours.”
She lifted her arm into the string of light, allowing the Wych Elm dragon to take flight and depart from the hole above. And turning back toward Estreth, she smiled.
“Leave that human to Us, and let’s move on. I’m certain that isn’t the only reason that you would show yourself before me, unannounced, after all these years.”
“Yes, Your Holiness. I would like to speak on the matter of a certain, once felled, adversary. The second coming of the Black Moon.”
Avya squinted her eyes in his direction, reaffirming his words as she studied his unflinching posture. It was as if a part of her was gauging whether Estreth was lying or not. It was a name she had known quite well but hadn’t expected to hear any time soon.
“So, that ill-vassal was correct after all. Let me hear it all, Estreth.”
❖❖❖
Underneath the capital of Cretho, the sewers of Nefra.
A sole figure was being guided by only the dim glow of the magic lanterns, as the sound of bone grating against the wall sang along with the slow stream of filth from nearby.
“...”
A mind, wandering a distant plane, struggled to push forward with such a brittle body. Missing three fingers on their right hand, they dragged the remaining two against a nearby wall. A slow march, with no destination in sight, other than to simply continue walking.
“By the Goddess, I hate being down here...”
“A job is a job, and this one has a decent pay. So, stop complaining.”
“It pays well because no one wants to deal with this horrid smell!”
A pair of voices came from across the figure, carrying with them a torch that acted as their guide. The eyes on the figure glowed with an impulse, a dwelling desire to be complete. It yearned, not for the soul, blood nor flesh, but for bone.
“Let’s just finish this survey and head back—wait...? What the hell is that...?”
“What? What are you—glowing eyes?!”
Immediately tossing the torch toward the figure, it became illuminated in full. A skeleton wearing a torn rag over its chest.
“An Undead...? A skeleton?! Why the hell is a skeleton roaming the sewers of all places?!”
“Calm down, it doesn’t look like it’s holding a weapon. We may only be Tier D, but I think we can take it. We’ll report it and find out the reason why later.”
Composed, the Adventurer drew his rust covered blade and held it out in front of him with both hands.
“Fine, I’ll cover you, but don’t expect much from a cheap arrow against bone...”
Pulling the string of his bow over his head, he readied an arrow toward the skeleton as his friend slowly approached the now stationary Undead. The eyes of the skeleton didn’t waver nor separate from the approaching Adventurer, and instead, it pulled its two-finger hand toward its chest. A faint glow began to radiate from underneath the rag.
“What is it doing...? Wait...”
As the light from the skeleton’s chest flickered, the rags moved, showcasing an orb that was embedded within its ribs. A vile drenching of dread washed over them at the mere sight.
“Isn’t that a...”
“A phylactery! It’s a li—”
The sudden sound of bone cracking prevented any further word from breaching the filthy air, let alone through their now unused throats. They were frozen in place as they witnessed a single bone finger being thrown in between them. And then, came a sudden voice.
“Emerge...once misbegotten bereft of neither blood, hum nor form...”
Stretching its single-finger hand outward toward the two, the skeleton’s eyes glowed brightly alongside the sinister aura that emitted from its chest.
“Purge the rotten flesh, as drums beget the shunned unborn!”
The fleshless finger in between the two Adventurers began to violently rattle, an odd trumpet of unease. And yet, it was too late for them to pay it any more attention as they had already lost themselves within their own unmatched rhythm—one that was calling from within.
“A........ah...”
Their bones began to vibrate, as if they were heeding the signal coming from between them. And in a matter of seconds, their bones were snatched from them, forming around the broken finger. And the skeleton in the distance began to walk forward once more as the Adventurers went limp and fell to the ground. The sound of grating bone and flowing water once again dominated the airways within the narrow passage.
“...”
The two newly created skeletons kneeled in place as the figure approached, and one offered the tossed finger in its fleshless hands. And yet, the figure didn't take it and instead lifted the rag from over their phylactery. A swirling aura began to amass around the orb, immediately sucking in the two skeletons.
"Ha..."
Looking at their once single-fingered hand, it now contained all five fingers. And their eyes shined, illuminating the passage ahead as their hand settled on their face.
"This is...fine... But more... I need..."
Their jaw began to quiver, the clattering of bone came and went as their legs began to move a bit faster than before. A semblance of understanding, a vestige of a will that was lusterless but not entirely exhausted just yet. Rather, it was swelling. And most of all, they could now remember their name.
"Immortality... I have..."
The Undead walked and walked, continuing only forward, while becoming lost within the depths—the only partially explored labyrinth—that remained hidden underneath Cretho's capital.