Rivel phased out the shadows with a deep breath. He looked around, confused for a moment, as dust and strange mist surrounded him, and the familiar rotten flower smell reached his nostrils.
"Has the spell not worked, old man...?" He wondered aloud, but there was no one next to him.
He suddenly shifted his head in one direction, as the smell of the living reminded him he hadn't eaten anything since morning. He shook his head sideways, ruffling his medium-length raven-black hair. He should have foreseen that edibles might not be at hand after getting randomly teleported to who-knows-where.
The shadows still hung on his shoulders, and the mist-like powder that permeated the entire place swirled around, dancing like little white fairies as Rivel made his way through the cave. While he couldn't see much, a certain pattern had become visible. The carvings in the stone were clearly made by a sentient being, and the powder that hung around the place was certainly not of natural origin. He got close to one of the walls and saw a niche; on top of it, the carvings depicted a resting body being carried away by some sort of ghost or spirit. He looked inside and saw that the body was perfectly shrouded and preserved. Right, that's what the powder must be for - to preserve the bodies. He nodded to himself in a gesture of understanding.
The distinct lack of light made him wonder what type of sentients might be dwelling there, clearly at least some of them were mundane based on smell alone. Or at least in a very early phase of the gift, when the divine presence had yet to imbue the being in question. Rivel was proud of his relation to the gift and with his god, Zardoz. Many things can go wrong when assimilating the gift; there's a reason why the false gods keep their presence away from the world. Prolonged exposure to the divine can cause irreparable damage or unintended changes. New urges and needs can come with a higher level of connection to the divine, and the higher the connection, the greater the risks of the vessel simply being unable to absorb the energies and breaking down, transforming into a beastly aberration driven by a mad desire to consume.
Rivel walked his way out of the Mausoleum, following spiral stairs and admiring the art exposed there. The dyed marble had details in silver and gold, all speaking of a deep culture with the afterlife. Some depicted ethereal battles between winged snakes and armored spider-like creatures, with the winged snakes having the upper hand but the furry spiders showing all their fierceness by clashing their spear-tipped spindly extremities, later to be welcomed by others of their kin who looked somewhat absent, looking forward rigidly. Rivel wasn't too keen on spider lore, really, but considering they were tasteful (and hopefully tasty) and that he was going to meet them sooner or later, he might as well take a good glimpse so as to lessen the social impact and actually act polite whenever these spider-beings approached him. He wondered whether they had already developed some sort of system to communicate with anthropomorphs or if he'd have to resort to less conventional methods of communication.
Stepping out of the Mausoleum, finally, he sensed that the cave had widened considerably, judging by the echoing steps that followed him. Treading carefully, he observed that a huge chasm seemed to open about ten feet away from him. He grabbed a nearby pebble and tossed it into the abyss; the sound returned only ten seconds later as the pebble crashed into some rugged rocks. Rivel closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows. At least five thousand feet - better not fall in there. He kept navigating the place and, after a while of fumbling in the dark, he finally found what seemed to be a narrow bridge. The prospect was scary, as the bridge looked like a natural formation, a remnant of a rock collapse, and could promptly collapse as well should someone have a harsh reaction, say, due to finding a spindly monster on his path. He sighed and considered his options.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The Mausoleum thing was clearly placed there for a reason, and judging by the importance the spindly beings placed on their dead, it's unlikely the reason is simple convenience. So that means this place likely has some sort of meaning to them. Considering the collapsed rock and the deep chasm, and the distinct lack of creatures, Rivel thought it reasonable for this to be some sort of isolated place of worship. Which means that he could try to fumble his way around the place, hoping that his life-sense simply isn't in range of whatever lies on the other side, and that he'd reach it before starving. And that the cave wouldn't collapse on him either. Yes, better head the spider's way. Maybe they have a village? How would the spiders' housing look like? Given the ever-present noxious fumes that surrounded Erebus, Rivel hadn't had many opportunities to expand his entomological knowledge. He pondered on his days of youth as he crossed the horizon-reaching, brittle bridge.
The child Rivel stared at the pulsating mass of flesh, mesmerized, as he followed the myriad veins that covered the entire room, occasionally vibrating with a queer light that phased through them. Next to him were five other children, some human, some not, but all mundane. He wouldn't consider them friends, as a sense of detachment, a consequence of being summoned into existence by the current High Priest instead of being born of two parents, or even being abducted from a mundane tribe, made him feel secluded in any group he was placed in, as if outworldly. Perhaps the fact that he was, in fact, outworldly had a little impact on said feeling. The priests did not walk with them any further into the room, as they did not want to expose themselves to the divine presence that radiated from the relic in front of them, most commonly referred to as 'the Heart'.
Most of them were unable to step forward out of fear that the Heart would pollute their minds and turn them into monstrous beasts, but he had absolute faith that his god, Sebastos Zardoz, would protect him. Of course, he would never tempt luck and did all prior steps before charging into the Heart room like a mad bull: he had practiced meditation and found his center, he had accepted his condition as a summoned sentient being, and he had aligned his will to the teachings of Zardoz. Not the same could be said about the kid who, putting on a facade, simply charged forward and tripped over one of the veins that sprouted from the Heart and fell face down straight into a zone of intense influence. Rivel took a deep breath, and the others next to him widened their eyes.
With a shrill, the fallen kid started to convulse on the floor as his flesh tore and gave way to deformed, sharp bones. His pitch started to deform as his throat expanded, and his teeth multiplied, no longer allowing air to pass through; his eyes melted, and blood pooled around him. All the other kids started fleeing, but he just stood motionless, not paralyzed by fear but simply waiting for the stupid kid, now a mass of formless, pulsating, agonizing flesh, to die and stop perturbing the influence of the Heart. Unfortunately, a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away from the scene. His transformation would have to wait for another time. Similarly, the feeling of stability around him pushed him out of his reveries. He kept walking blindly but not for long, as after a sharp curve, the cave was suddenly illuminated by innumerable bright bugs trapped in webs in the ceiling, revealing many adorned, carved hollow rocks with lots of holes in them. Confronting him, one of the spider-like beings descended from the ceiling and pointed one of his many spindly, spear-like limbs towards Rivel. His surveying and critique of spider architecture would have to wait, it seemed.
Smiling slightly, he addressed the white-fur being. 'Well, hello there'