image [https://i.imgur.com/DakL5Pl.jpg]
Chapter XIV: The Visage in the Tophet
Midnight,
27 Flamestar 1011,
The Age of Night
22 Days until the Night of the Moon
Fioranz
Her slender, calloused hands were shuffling through parchments, and once in awhile she would lean over and place her index finger on the ledger. As she did, the candlelight caused shadows to dance on the walls of her office quarters. It was just past midnight, and she had been long at work, busying herself, not because there was anything out of the ordinary, but ostensibly as an act of avoidance. A rare summer rain was pattering gently against the window pane, and she would occasionally glance out at the city's skyline and see how it brought the usual hustle and bustle of those nights to a complete standstill.
"Evening, Captain," A familiar voice sounded.
Valora glanced over to see that it was a young officer. He was blonde, his bony, broad-jawed face sporting a few scars. It was not the face she grew accustomed to seeing for the many years when he was under her tutelage. He took his overcoat off and placed it on the rack by the door. It was black velvet, with gold trim and accents. He then removed his rapier and leaned it against the wall as he went toward the desk sitting adjacent to her, and took a seat, leaning lazily into it, and folded his hands.
"You're up rather late, aren't you?" He asked.
She slightly bobbed her head in acknowledgement of his presence.
"Investigating the strange casualty on the front still?" He continued.
"No, not tonight," She replied, licking her finger as she tried to catch a grip of the pages to separate them.
He sat in thought for a moment and remained expressionless before speaking once more.
"It's pretty strange though, isn't it?" Said the len again. "A ven, felled by a single arrow from the forest dwellers."
"Is it so strange?" Valora responded. "Haven't you taken one of them yourself? They're nasty."
"As a matter of fact, I have," He replied. "Though it was not a straight shot. Clipped my thigh."
There was a moment of silence as he traced his fingertips over his upper lip, deep in thought.
"You know as well as I, Venganzi do not simply die from mortal weapons such as that." He said.
Valora eyed him slyly, and gave him a slight wink.
"Don't act like you're so happy about it." She said sarcastically.
"Oh please," He said with a music to his voice.
"Oh please yourself, Critz," She retorted. "It is no secret you harbor ill-feelings toward the ven. Always have. Since you came to me as a little, skinny, lenning,"
"Maybe," said Rosz, curling a smile. "Have to live up to the name of House Critz, don't I?"
He glanced toward the window.
"When was the last time a ven was slain in battle like that? Oh yes, when my ancestors hunted them for sport. Heroes of my house, such as Rengalfo, Yorlszalvo, and Diedyro." Critz mused, sighing. "Venganzi slayers of the highest order."
"And how did they slay them?" Valora asked.
"...Very carefully, that's all I can say." Said Rosz, smirking.
He exhaled through his nostrils and removed his white, velvet glove to scratch his nose.
"Well, the whole city is abuzz with chatter about 'omens' and 'curses',"
"I don't believe in omens," She said sharply, flipping through her parchments, not taking her eyes off of them. "I don't believe in curses,"
"I know," He said. "Neither do I. But in the grand scheme of things... I don't know what I believe in anymore, actually,"
Roszenstan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. In his minds' eye, for a moment, he saw flashes of violence. Moments where he was certain he was going to die, years ago. Moments that landed him the scars he now sported on his face and body.
"I don't understand why you're not as intrigued," Rosz said, turning the corner of his eye toward her. "How could you care anything for the ven?"
Valora stopped and glanced back at him, and gave him a look of disbelief. It was disbelief that he was willing to bring up that subject.
When he realized that she did not become incensed, he closed his eyes and smiled again.
"Your ven mother abandoned you in the gutter," He said, "Left you for dead, in the streets,"
Valora glanced around the room, calling upon her iron resolve from years of experience as an officer.
"And your father, well," Rosz yawned slightly, covering his mouth before continuing. He turned his face toward her and conjured a look of sincerity.
"Your father would have probably looked for you, had your mother not killed him,"
The chair creaked as Roszenstan leaned it back into the proper position, his voice finding higher intonation, almost condescending.
"Did you ever find out why?"
"That's enough, Critz." She barked. "Too far. Those are my personal affairs. I don't ask you about your family do I? Your traitor of a father."
Roszenstan smiled.
"What do you need to know?" He said. "He's an adulterous, greedy scoundrel. Living on his siphoned Fioran fortune with his lover in Rajhi."
Valora inhaled through her nostrils as she began to bring her desk work to a close, beginning with sealing the ink ribbon and readying the quill to be stowed by wiping off the excess ink.
"Speaking of Rajhi, when is your leave?"
"I leave in two days," He replied.
"And are you going to pay your old len a visit?"
"I couldn't desire anything less, though he will insist when he learns that I am in town," He said. "I'm going there to get absolutely rotten drunk with two Rajari dancers on my arm, play cards, throw some dice, and maybe procure some exotic merchandise which piques my interest,"
"I'm sorry to hear that," Valora gave a half-smile. "Say, nothing better to do with your wage than to give it all away to a bunch of slimy Rajari? I learned that lesson long ago. I work too hard for my money."
Roszenstan smiled and let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Oh dear, I must admit Captain Minsz," He lamented. "There aren't many thrills in life anymore. Not after the revolution. Now that we live in 'imperial peace'."
He pulled a cobb pipe from his pockets and began to pack it with a brown, leafy substance.
Valora was rummaging through her desk drawers, focused, but still participating in the conversation. She stuck the quill between her teeth for a moment as she looked for something.
"Thrill?" She said through her teeth, before removing it and placing it inside the drawer. "We can get you a thrill. We could always send you back to the front. We could always use len like you."
Roszenstan sucked his teeth in a slight expression of disapproval.
"To move an inch in a month, only to be moved back by shifting trees and hordes of blue-painted barbarians?" He responded. "That is no thrill, that's mundanity."
He sighed once more. "What a shame the Hellflayer is gone, and his fangs are effectively no-more."
Valora quickly rose to her feet and began gathering her effects, ignoring the comment. She closed the ledgers and parchments and took her sabre and strapped it to her armored hip. She began to cinch on her gauntlets, and made for the door, where she grabbed her crimson cloak from the rack, and donned it, drawing up the hood.
"I take it you do not miss those days, when we were Hellfangs, Captain?" Rosz asked.
He realized shortly that she was not interested in continuing the conversation as she marched toward her cabinet.
"My apologies, just banter,"
Valora ignored him and continued to attend to her tasks,
"There's plenty of coverage tonight, I just finished making my rounds,"
Valora continued to ready herself, and reached for an unlit torch inside her storage.
Roszenstan chuckled.
"You need an umbrella, not that!" He quipped, amused. "It won't light tonight, not when it's like this,"
"You never know." Valora said, as she quickly saluted and departed her office.
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Outside, the rains were reaching a crescendo, and brought with them a unique scent that was like a smell of fermentation mixed with water vapor. The oils from the street were rising to the top, through the cobblestone, causing the roads to become slick. Valora drew her cloak over herself to be as inconspicuous as possible. She walked down the steps which lead to the inner courts, saluting a few guards as she did. As she reached the lower streets, she glanced over to the west, which was to her right. There, she beheld the great manors, the Venganzi Estates.
The Venganzi quarters were not necessarily off limits, but most Lyban and especially Chimera, avoided it with ironclad determination. For a moment she hesitated.
This is mad. I must be out of my mind too. Bel is not well, and I can't believe I am even considering this. Valora thought to herself.
She glanced toward the rushing river which cut through the city. The infusion of new waters caused the river to flow with a greater magnitude. She looked toward the small grated openings which lead to the sewers.
It's a maze down there. I don't want to get lost. If it exists... then this... secret meeting place would be in a portion of the tunnels that are not frequently patrolled.
Valora thought to herself once more.
I have no choice.
Valora renewed her determination, and marched toward the Venganzi quarter. There were not many souls present. It wasn't often that Venganzi would flutter the streets in groups, especially in rain. Most kept to themselves and spent their time in their estates. As she walked through, she could hear the faint sound of music. She heard muffled harpsichords, pianos, and violins, playing scores with perfect tempo and precision. It was eerie to the ears of most len, but it appealed to her.
Some Lyban merchants were given permission to vend in the district. They came with special authorization of high Venganzi society to sell barrels and tinctures of various 'wines' and other strange liquids. This evening, they hobbled their carts toward the alleyways, trying to get out from the rain's downpour.
Valora tightened her cloak around her face, wrapping it around her shoulders like a scarf. Some eyes of the merchants glanced toward her, but quickly turned away, assuming she was part of the regulars who did occasionally patrol there. She gripped the cloak as the rain continued to slant, pelting everything in sight, with no sign of letting up. The rain was a disturbance enough to keep things in a state of flux for the few who were still on the street, which kept her presence from appearing too suspect.
She pressed on, following the flow of the running water, turning into alleyways and wandering through the darkened corners of the district. She occasionally glanced to see if anyone was watching or following her. When she felt that it was safe, she knelt occasionally by the barred gutters, feeling with her hand to see if there was deeper access. Most were too narrow for her to crawl through. She would rise to her feet, glance around again, and continued to follow the streams of rainwater.
Watching her feet, she avoided puddles and carefully measured her steps, until she found a strange sight. It was an abandoned building. Outside, there were empty barrels and boxes. She peered inside the windows and saw that, based upon the floor layout and walls, it was once a lively restaurant. She turned to the front and narrowed her eyes to read the sign, on which was inscribed "The Blood Trough" in a beautiful calligraphy, clearly penned by the hand of a ven. She glanced around to the alleyway which lied next to it, and saw that it hugged the great stone wall which encompassed the perimeter of Fioranz. She had reached the limits of the city itself.
Her pupils fell to a pin-prick as she saw at the end of the alley was a slanted incline. She took a look behind her shoulder and saw that there was not a single soul and walked toward it with determination. When she got close enough, she realized that there was a frigid draft, even colder than the deluge's air. With one last swivel around, and a deep breath, she pulled one of the rusty doors open to reveal an entrance. It was indeed to the catacombs, but it did not seem to invite her at all. She felt a malevolent pressure, it felt like it would have perforated her skin if it could. Her half-ven eyes allowed her to see deep into the dark. She entered and shut the door behind her.
Though she could see well in the dark, she didn't feel comfortable in pure darkness. She extracted the unlit torch she had brought and snapped it with flint to bring it to a flame. It brought her a strange peace, a warmth to her blood. As she descended, the sounds of the city and the rain which battered it began to fade with every step on the mossy, grimy stone. There was a sound of incessant dripping, and as she continued to plunge into Fioranz' underworld, she eventually heard the sound of running water from the sewers.
Pressing on, her greaves began to splash with ankle-high water. The system was overwhelmed by the summer storm, and Valora found herself scrunching her face.
This is ridiculous, Belzon is out of his mind. She thought as she sighed, contemplating continuing. After a few short moments, she decided to press on, with the murky water trying to grip her calves. The light from her torch was causing her shadow to flicker off the walls in a yellow-orange hue. Eventually she stumbled upon large openings which lead toward chambers and corridors which undoubtedly would have taken her deeper into the catacombs. She paid close attention to the materials of each of the portals which lead down these roads. Some hallways were made of the same mossy stones on which she stood. She recognized them as more modern Fioran technology. But, there was one opening, a bronze, earthy passage, with a strange, ephemeral feeling that seemed to beckon her, then vanish.
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Valora found herself lost in thought. She glanced around. It did not appear to be a path toward anything, and that made her suspicious. Shiiing. The sound of sliding metal rang through the venerable stone halls as she instinctively drew her sword, and began to press forward. The air had a strange smell to it, and the air felt old. As she pressed on, she found herself having to lower her head, until she reached a circular, hollowed out room. The russet, earthen walls no longer seemed non-descript, as she noticed in the dancing shadows strange paintings and inscriptions. She moved closer and examined them carefully, keeping her drawn sword close to her right hip.
Placing the torch closer to see the dried paint, she noticed that the first image toward the center-right of the wall depicted a score of len in a cave, bearing weapons, genuflecting and praying. Above the cave were len, running from what she recognized as serpents, like those found occasionally underfoot in Southern Fiora, or the Dagamar range.
image [https://i.imgur.com/HhYNpeh.jpg]
Well I'll be damned. Valora thought.
She began to recall on her education. She was well aware of the curriculum taught to recruits to inspire national pride. She had experienced it both as a student, and as Grand Marshal of the Academy. The national myth told a story. An ancient story, which was believed to follow the events of The Lyric of Yol. Though the Academy did not teach the Lyric, it did teach that the country's first king was Hal. Fyor, who arrived on the southern shores from Mystalbion. At the time, the Venganzi reigned supreme. The religous believed Fyor to be one of Lord Yolgar's champions. As Yolgar's Marshal, he is considered chief of the Prime Hallowed by the faithful. The scientific minded of the north, however, viewed him simply as a Mystish warlord who became obsessed with conquering lands across the Arlian ocean.
As she carefully traced the brush strokes, she realized it was truly an ancient painting made with crude instruments. She was convinced, that it was painted by ancient Fiorans. Valora was still left with a sense of unease. She could recognize Hal. Fyor and the other saints of Yol, and she had a sense that the the twisted bipedal creatures above the cavern might have been Venganzi, but she was not sure what the meaning of the presence of the many serpent creatures was.
image [https://i.imgur.com/jsqxQ47.jpg]
On the next painting to her left were the strange creatures again, with the tall bipeds, with mask-like faces. Some contorting, some with clawed feet. Her heart seemed like it was freezing in her chest. It was a feeling of disturbance, as well as excitement. Though she could not ascertain, it was clear that it was once a sacred place. She moved to the following depiction.
image [https://i.imgur.com/7lKO3bh.jpg]
There she beheld the same serpentine monster. It was painted in a watery, boiling, blood red, and seemed to be depicting a substance of crackling lightning, and flame, and was terrifying figures around it, who seemed to be fleeing it in desparation. It filled Valora with a sense of discomfort and trepidation that she had seldom felt. A feeling she hated. A feeling that she might have been firmly ignorant of what could be true. She hated the feeling of a lack of control, a lack of understanding. Below, there was an ancient inscription.
DÆMON IGNÆRYX
As she read the words, she felt like her skin was crawling. The image was menacing and foreboding, and now she had connected the dots.
Ignaeryx... Ignaeryx's Tomb?
She had crossed paths there before, whenever she drilled in the Dagamar, but she never cared to go in. It was a religious site, and she never paid much attention to them. She had heard that it supposedly housed "a skeleton" but she never thought that it was anything more than a mythology.
Her torch flickered in the musty chamber, as she shifted left again.
image [https://i.imgur.com/17ksoSS.jpg]
The next image was different. It was far higher in quality, it had been crafted with considerably more care. It bore the body of a len, with the face of a lion, wielding a great sword, surrounded by those like him. It made the red hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She kept shifting her eyes, but had no category to try and understand it. She felt that she might have seen it before, but coudn't say for sure what it was.
She continued onto the final image, and her heart sunk.
image [https://i.imgur.com/lXvE3sl.jpg]
The image was harrowing. She didn’t feel fear or dread, but rather a deep revulsion, akin to the sensation one experiences when biting into what appears to be a fresh, ripe apple, only to find it rotten and teeming with worms inside. It was as if the painting did not simply depict the black, writhing monster, but the monster itself was the violation of something once wholesome and pure, a sickening betrayal of the senses. It was an affront. It was akin to witnessing a beautiful melody warped into a discordant screech. It felt like a knife, left twisted in her back, a knife from a friend. She felt a hatred seeping from it, a hatred as black as midnight, as radiant and powerful as a glowing hearth, but without the warmth, instead, it was a cold, hopeless electricity, pulsing through her flesh and turning her mind toward despair. All her thoughts seemed to turn pessimistic, her memories sprouting up, jagged and serrated. It felt like there was no light in the world, and there never would be again.
Her stomach twisted as if she had swallowed something vile, the essence of the image lingering like a bitter aftertaste, nearly impossible to shake off.
Exploring the chamber had only whetted her curiosity. Now, the hallway ahead called to her, hinting at more hidden depths within the catacombs. A flicker of apprehension stirred in her, Belzon's earlier paranoia seeming less irrational now. Secrets do lurk here, she thought to herself.
With a deep breath, she pulled the torch away, which caused the sound of the cackling flame to whirl through the damp air. She ventured onwards, her path unfolding along a fenceless walkway that skirted dangerously close to the turbulent waters of the sewer below. The sound of running water echoed in the dimly lit passageway, and occasionally she would kick up a loose pebble which would plunge into the water to her side.
As she peered down the constricting passage on her left, noting additional openings that punctuated her path. Each one resembled an ancient, toothy maw, the rusty bars framing them like decaying teeth, hinting at even more hidden depths and forgotten caverns. As she passed these, there was one that seemed to invoke a subtle shift in the atmosphere that caught her attention. The air grew denser, almost tangible, as if charged with an unseen energy. It was in this heavy stillness that she caught a fleeting glimpse of something extraordinary – the merest flicker of a ribbon of purple light. It flashed so briefly, yet so vividly, that it pierced the gloom, leaving her momentarily awestruck and keenly aware that she had stumbled upon something otherworldly. It drew her in.
Navigating the narrowing passage, she felt the space around her slowly expand, the constricting walls giving way to a broader chamber cloaked in an unnerving stillness. It was a peaceless silence.
The walls of the chamber stood stark and naked, its brick bronzed, stripped of the usual drapery of moss and algae that were key features among the rest of the catacombs. Whatever cleansed this stone... Valora thought to herself. It must have been hot enough to purge the stone of its natural cloak. The barren walls seemed to absorb the light from her torch, giving the chamber a suffocating closeness.
As she moved further in, the oppressive feeling in the chamber grew. The absence of growth was not just a sign of past violence, but a stark reminder of the unnatural forces that must have played out within these confines. It felt burdened with the echoes of an ancient, fiery wrath that had once scorched these very stones.
Her torch flickered, casting tall shadows that played across the walls, imbuing the chamber with a sense of living history. There were unlit braziers that she noticed had been lit recently, perhaps a matter of days or weeks. As she moved cautiously forward, the faint, purple light she had glimpsed earlier seemed to grow stronger, pulsating softly in the gloom, below her.
It wasn't until she saw the light again that she noticed the center of the chamber. There, in a ghastly display hidden until now, lay a pit. In the center was a stake, with blackened chains tethered to it. The basin was filled with white and yellowing bones, some overed in dirt, some charred by flame. It was a macabre mosaic, revelatory of the chamber's use. The sight made her uncomfortable, the realization dawning that she had stumbled upon a place of sacrifice.
Her greaves smudged as she jumped into the pit, their silver shine becoming sullied from the blackened soil, with a small cloud of ashen dust rising from the ground. With her sword extended before her, she gently prodded at the bones scattered across the ground. Each touch seemed to stir whispers from the past, the clink of metal against bone echoing ominously in the chamber. The skeletons, entwined in their eternal rest, invoked a sense of restlessness. She recognized that the skulls belonged to len, the facial structures blunt. She continued to investigate until she uncovered a strange sight. There was a considerably larger skull, buried softly, right under the stake. After using it to loosen and pluck the bone slightly from the dark earth, she sheathed her sword quickly and lifted it up to behold it.
The skull was grotesquely misshapen, it looked like skull of a great beast. It had sharpened teeth with somewhat sabered fangs, and an elongated snout, but only just. Leaning closer, she locked her gaze into the hollow sockets of the skull. For a split second, her mind painted a vivid picture: the skull, once encased in the flesh of a formidable beast, alive and menacing. A flash of recognition sparked within her; she had encountered this monster before. Her mind raced, transporting her deep into her memory. The Rabani beast. The riots, thirty years ago. It was a fierce battle, one that ended with the creature eluding capture, disappearing into the river, and the annals of the city's darkest day. Her instincts whisked her to Belzon's instructive words in the early morning while they walked through that fateful day's aftermath.
The Lyberon. A mythical beast, a protector of the Rabani tribe. This ferocious guardian is said to appear when the Rabani are under great danger.
She turned to Belzon.
"So... you think it was this... Lyberon?" She remembered asking Belzon, who gave a look of confidence in his hypothesis.
She continued to ponder, her eyes still fixed on the skull. Could it be that after its escape, the beast had found refuge here in the catacombs? The thought briefly took hold, but her practical mind swiftly dismissed it. A creature of such size and power couldn't possibly sustain itself in the confined spaces below the city, subsisting on mere rats and bats. No, this was something else – a remnant left behind, perhaps a token of the beast's presence or a dark symbol of its involvement in Belzon's conspiracy. The discovery of this warped organism added another layer of mystery to the catacombs' already enigmatic history.
Suddenly, as she beheld the skull, a pair of glowing pupils emerged in the center of the skull's pitch black eye sockets, and the ground began to stir. The skull flew from Valora's hands, causing her to stagger backward. Her training overcame her and she quickly stabilized herself and drew her sword. A flash of light emerged, as the braziers all lit themselves, and the stake engulfed in purple flame. Bones began to pluck themselves and rise from the pit's soil like flying fish emerging from the surface of a wave. The bones began to swirl in a vortex in front of her, as she heard the faint sound of laughter. The flames contorted, and from the stake came a horrifying face made of violet smoke and flames, in the center of the whirlwind. It had serpentine eyes with a large gaping nose, with sharpened teeth.
image [https://i.imgur.com/4GCtGwf.jpg]
Chimera wench. She heard, not audibly, but within her. She gripped her sword tightly and continued to step backwards.
Throw yourself on your sword, and give yourself to us. The voice continued. The death you have always wished for, mongrel slut. I know you still love that traitor Grazzli.
Before her, the bones were still flying through the air, and before her eyes she noticed they began to reassemble themselves.
When I'm through with you, whore, I will scatter your remains to the nine howling winds of my Umbraneth.
Tossed forever, in the vortex of damnation. You and your diseased ancestors will beg to try and break from the Coriolis of my malice for all eternity.
Valora hardened herself and dug her heels in, bringing her sword to her face, locking eyes with the flaming eyes of the devilish visage.
"Who are you!" She cried with a roar of battle.
She heard laughter again, and suddenly, the face evaporated, no longer obscuring what was behind it. Valora's heart sunk as she beheld it. It was the skeleton of the Lyberon, contorting and stretching itself, beginning to towering over her as it did, like a broken marionette being lifted slowly by its puppeteer.
The earth beneath her feet trembled with the creature's first step. It emitted a low-pitched, guttural shriek from its gaping jaw, the sound so powerful it seemed to vibrate through her own bones. Staggered but resolute, she steadied herself, her eyes locked on the advancing horror.
Behind the Lyberon, a macabre scene unfolded as more skeletons began to reassemble themselves. Like puppets jerked into motion, they clattered and clicked into place, each armed with rusted yet menacing weapons. A chill ran down her spine at the sight, but her resolve only hardened.
She heard maniacal laughter once more.
Gripping her sword tightly, she raised it, the metal gleaming faintly in the torchlight. Her stance was firm, her eyes steeled with determination. She braced herself for the impending onslaught, prepared to confront not just the Lyberon, but the skeletons, somehow brought to life. The air crackled with a palpable tension as she readied to battle the nightmares resurrected from the catacombs' dark past.
Amidst the chilling chorus of creaking bones and malevolent whispers, another sound emerged, commanding and profound. It was an ethereal voice, not unlike what she had heard, but it was more powerful and resounding, enveloping the space around her, filling her with a slight sensation of warmth in the pit of her stomach.
"Hail, brave Valora. Yol is with thee."
The words resonated through the chamber, ethereal and otherworldly. Instantly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Valora's eyes darted around the shadowed catacombs, searching for the source of the voice, but it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
What is this? This is not possible. This is not real. I am asleep, this is a nightmare.
In that moment of heightened awareness, her sword suddenly ignited, flames wrapping around the blade in a fierce burst of light. The fire cast a wild, white glow, throwing the advancing skeletal figures into sharp relief against the walls, repulsing them backward. When the foul creatures reset themselves, the sight of her flaming sword, alive with a strange power, caused them to lower themselves in a cautious manner. The blade's light infused Valora with a newfound sense of strength and determination. With the mysterious voice beckoning her in the halls, she turned to the skeletal horde, unmoved and unshaken.
In an instant, one skeleton charged her with its sword, which she easily side-stepped, and with one, effortless counter, her flaming sword sliced through the ribcage of the warrior, not only cutting cleanly through, but sending a pulse of energy throughout the rest of the bones, which instantly began to evaporate.
"You may slay the other, but the abomination may destroy you. Your blade has been blessed to secure your escape." The ethereal voice said again. "Run, Valora."
The adrenaline surged through Valora as she launched into action. With a swift, fluid motion, she hurled her flaming sword towards the wall of the chamber. The blade, still wreathed in fire, embedded itself firmly in the stone wall above her.
Without hesitation, Valora sprinted towards the edge of the pit. She gathered all her strength and leaped, her arms outstretched, fingers grazing the edge. Her fingertips found purchase on the cool stone, and with a grunt of effort, she hoisted herself up to the higher level.
Regaining her footing, she broke into a sprint towards the passage's opening. Her muscles burned with the exertion, but the threat looming behind her fueled her determination. As she neared her sword, she reached out, seamlessly plucking it from the wall without breaking stride. The flames seemed to energize her, lending speed to her escape.
Her heart pounded in her ears, but it was the sound of crashing stone that heightened her sense of urgency. Glancing back, she saw the Lyberon, clumsily breaking the stone down, forcing a path toward her, and was now in direct pursuit. Its massive form moved with terrifying speed, its skeletal limbs propelling it across the path on all fours. The sight of the beast, a nightmarish fusion of bone and fury, chasing her through the flickering shadows, fueled her desperate flight through the winding corridors of the underworld. She glanced back for one moment and saw that the Lyberon was joined not only with the one skeleton, but had now been joined with a small horde of several more. They were faster than the Lyberon as they sprinted after her. As she felt one get close, she turned and violently elbowed it, which broke the nosebone of one, sending it into the wall. As another approached, she thrust her sword to her side, and it melted through it like butter, and it was vanquished.
Valora pushed on relentlessly through the labyrinthine catacombs, her lungs burning and her mind racing to recall the twisted path she had taken. The walls seemed to close in around her, the oppressive darkness only broken by the strange light of her flaming sword. She turned corners and darted through narrow passages, her sense of direction challenged by the sameness of the endless tunnels. The horde had not lost her trail at all, as she heard the sound of clanging steel and crackling hinges of bone-on-bone behind her. Panic began to nibble at the edges of her resolve as the realization dawned upon her: she was lost in this subterranean maze.
Despite the gnawing fear, she refused to succumb to despair. Her feet carried her forward, driven by a blend of instinct and determination. Just when hope seemed to wane, she saw something, freezing momentarily.
It was a swordsman, wrapped in bandages, with a silver, mouthless face. His greatsword was drawn, and he beckoned her with his gauntlet.
"This way, Valora." The voice spoke.
"Who in blazes are you!?" She took her flaming sword to bear again.
Suddenly, the flame from her sword seemed to pull from the blade, and flew toward the Revenant.
"A friend." Said the revenant. "Your salvation is behind me. Go. I will deal with the beast."
"No, give me the fire back, and I will slay it with you."
"You cannot face it as you are now." The Revenant spoke, its voice becoming more urged. "LEAVE. NOW!"
Valora blinked, and then sheathed her sword in a controlled fashion and ran toward the Revenant, and brushed past it.
Behind him was the small incline of trickling water, hewn crudely into the stone, winding upwards toward a circular, barred opening which an orangish, white light breaking through. With renewed vigor, Valora ascended the incline, the sound of her pursuer fading into the distance. As she neared the top, the soft, radiant light greeted her, the greeting light of the dawn of the Flamestar.
The opening of the brought her to an opening that led directly to just outside the city. She realized that the stone opening was a rain gutter, constructed in the rocks just overlooking the shore of Dagamar bay. The early morning light bathed the landscape in a warm glow, the tranquil waters of the bay reflecting the newborn light of the Flamestar. She pushed the barred gate open, and emerged, stumbling out onto the shore. She was greeted by the cool dawn breeze that came after a summer rain.
Gasping for breath, Valora stood at the shoreline, her hands instinctively moving to caress her face, seeking comfort from the cool morning air. It was a stark relief from the claustrophobic, stale atmosphere she had endured in the catacombs' depths. Her lungs welcomed the fresh, salty breeze, even as her mind remained a whirlwind of disbelief and shock.
Turning back towards the catacomb's entrance, she narrowed her eyes, straining to catch a glimpse of the swordsman, the mysterious figure who had aided her escape. Her heart raced, half in hope, half in apprehension.
But before she could discern any movement, a deep, guttural rumbling sound erupted from within the opening. It was the groan of the earth itself, a harbinger of collapse. Valora watched in stunned silence as the ground above the subterranean caverns shuddered violently. Rocks and debris, once stable, began to shift, creating a cascading effect. Large boulders tumbled into the opening, accompanied by a cloud of dust and smaller stones, sealing the entrance with a finality that echoed through the morning stillness.
The chamber, the site of her recent confrontation with the unimaginable, was now entombed beneath layers of earth and stone. The collapse sealed away the horrors of the catacombs, at least for now, burying them in the depths of the earth as if the land itself sought to forget their existence. Valora stood there, a sole witness to the catacomb's demise, the weight of what she had experienced settling upon her with the finality of the sealed chamber.
The serene sounds of the bay, the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore, and the soft warmth of the dawn light did little to ease the turmoil churning within her.
Her mind, rooted in the tangible and the explainable, struggled to comprehend the events she had just endured. The rational part of her, the woman of science, grappled with the reality of the supernatural horrors she had witnessed. This can’t be. She thought, her scientific skepticism clashing with the undeniable truth of her experiences. Did I judge Bel wrongly? He was telling the truth...
Despite her grounding in logic, she couldn’t deny the evidence of her own senses. She had been fully conscious, fully aware. The flickering flames of her sword, the chilling echo of the voice, the relentless pursuit of the Lyberon - all of it was too vivid, too real to be a figment of her imagination.
As the early morning sun began to climb higher, casting its light on the world around her, so did it violently wake Valora's understanding. Her worldview had been irrevocably altered, challenging her to reconcile her understanding of the natural world with the mysteries that lay beyond its reach of explanation. A door to a higher reality had been opened, a reality she could no longer ignore.