Malcolm didn't know how much time had passed while he lay there, posing as another corpse. He saw the sun shine bright again, and its radiance extinguish to give way to the countless nights.
The stench became unbearable, and maggots crawled through his skin; flies nested on the rotten remains and walked on his face, some even entering his gaping mouth. Then, the rains came, and the smell waned as the rotten flesh was washed into the earth. Malcolm wondered how many days it would be before he, too, was taken by the giant mass grave called their planet.
Eventually, the eyes stopped watching. He didn't know why, but he felt they were gone for good. Only then could he rise to his feet, filled with shame, and rummage through Rivel's pockets. There it was – the thing that had sparked all this suffering: a pebble-sized stone with weird engravings. Malcolm connected them and walked into a place with less rot, although he still carried the smell lingering on his tattered clothes and bent armor.
A familiar light took him, and he was again welcomed by the ever-present fog, so typical of Erebus. Yet, no cheering crowds came to celebrate his long-awaited return, nor did battalions of blood brothers arrive to pressure him to quickly recover so they could march onto the mundane lands and reclaim them. No faction banners fluttered in the dim air currents of the mountain's interior.
He looked at the horizon and saw only gray stone, blackened stones, and more fog. Confused, he didn't grasp it at first, but the more he walked towards his hometown – the place he'd learned to love, with its ever-grayness and Gothic architecture – the more dread he felt.
He stumbled forward, weak from the long inanition, a force he drew from his wailing spirit. More blackened stones, stacked upon blackened stones. A fallen wall, collapsed houses, deformed, inhuman skeletons – a basilica, collapsed.
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"Where's the heart?" he thought, as he started digging through the stones, trying to craft a path to nowhere. A rustling sound startled him. An anglerfish maiden crawled in the distance; the Abyss maiden had survived! He quickly made his way there and saw she, too, was on her bare bones, pale and injured. Behind her, a trail of dark turquoise liquid dragged onto a shallow pond.
She couldn't lift her face but spoke: "You're late. They're all gone, dead – killed by that power-thirsty maniac."
Malcolm didn't understand. Who? How could this happen? They were a race fallen in disgrace, but no Blessed was a pushover; there was no way a single individual could've caused all this.
"How? Where's the heart? Where are the rest?" The Abyss maiden tried to laugh mockingly, only to end up having a coughing attack. After some time, she sighed and finally answered:
"There was a cabal. They never intended for you to return; the King's steward and many members of our faction didn't have much confidence in the trial. So, they decided to take matters into their own hands.
Things escalated, and a full-blown civil war erupted. Suddenly, the corpse of a mundane was discovered after a part of the city had been burnt, and no one was safe. Our violent nature took over; it was always a delicate balance. Fathers turned against sons, and mothers ate their daughters, thinking they were part of the conspiracy. More fires erupted, and the Basilica collapsed, destroying the heart. And then, with hopelessness added to despair, fear, and fury... Well, you can see things for yourself."
Malcolm fell, grasping his head. Was there never any reason for this? Had he refused, he would've been able to prevent this catastrophe. He thought he was doing the right thing, putting everyone's fate on his shoulders, only playing into these worms' hands. They wanted him and Rivel, the figures of most authority, out of town for them to take over.
He felt lightheaded as the last remnants of strength left his body, and the long-awaited end took over him as well. How much he would've rather died in that battle and never found out about any of this – a last thought formed in his head as he sighed his last breath.
"It was all in vain."
Finally, Malcolm had his long awaited sleep as the dark fog ruled silenly over the debris of Fallen Erebus.