Deep in the underdark, Before the undead incursion, three travelers walked a hurried pace through ever declining slopes and ridges into a consuming darkness. If not for the dark vision inherent to the drow. These now wearie and silent pilgrims would have been lost to the dark days ago in their journey. In the black and white dimness of their darkvision. They could see the oncoming dust storm. The cave system they were in was so vast and ancient that a great desert had formed at one of the lowest levels where once ran a great underground lake. The hooded figures hurried to the desert to camp near some jutting sharp rocks that poked through the sand like great blades wounding the landscape. After pushing through the storm for several minutes they camped in dark elven tents meant to withstand such turmoil; they were close to the end, just another week or so. 

It was the last day in their journey. For days they followed the roots of a mountain, miles beneath the earth. Here in the sheer insides of the mountain was a darkness that only the leader of the three could see through now. A dark elf woman of stern slim features with a flare of ambition that burned in her eyes. She was a witch and one that lurked in the shadows. The two with her were a brother and sister, two thieves that the witch had taken under her wing a few years before their journey. They were young and noticeably shorter than the full grown witch. Though they were tired from the journey, even now they had not met exhaustion. 

The great slums of drow society teach one to survive and more importantly, how not to be seen while doing it. The witch had seen them though. She gave them the option to serve her or be eaten by a swarm of spiders. 

The darkness lessened so that the children could see the space that surrounded them with their darkvision as they came to the smooth flat marble beach of a great body of liquid that reflected no light. Lucien, the boy Drow, did not recognize the liquid but it smelled foul. The woman stopped abruptly and held her hand out blocking the children from getting any closer. This whole time the three had hardly spoken to each other. Each of them throughout the journey had felt that they were being watched or at least that they were not the only living things that lurked in the depths. The witch commanded the children to be silent most of the journey. She knew the journey. In the stone wilderness of the underdark. The faintest sound could be a death sentence in some of the landscapes they encountered. 

In the last days of their journey however, they had felt the overbearing sensation that they were absolutely alone. The feeling choked the awareness of the children’s minds almost causing the girl to scream in terror before Lucien grabbed her hand and held it the rest of the way. He too had never faced such darkness. Here by the black liquid was no different, they had grown so used to staying as silent as possible that the thought of speaking did not even cross their minds. That is why when the witch spoke it seemed so loud that it sent a paralyzing shock down their spines. 

She whispered “oh great one, master of shadows, and keeper of the dark. I present two worthy souls for the Trial of Transmutation” There was a long silence.

Lucien stared at the space before him when he heard a sound so faint he thought he had imagined it. He heard it again on the edges of his awareness and his heart nearly stopped as he heard what he thought were the faint distant screams of people in pain coming from the dark to his left past the length of the beach. He heard his sister's silent breaths quicken and her grip tighten on his hand and knew that she heard it too. The moment was cut when the liquid started to here and convulse as a great and terrible figure rose from it. It had great black wings that unfurled, reaching past where darkvision could see. The black liquid poured down the crevices of this being’s scaly frame creating pockets of steam where it met the beach floor as he came closer. Its skeletal-like head came into view with the signature horns of the black dragon. This was not a black dragon however, not anymore. This was something reshaped by the shadowfell into a being wreathed in darkness. The Shadow Dragon opened its eyes and peered at the children. And studied them. The children felt naked and exposed like every thought, every sin was laid before the monster. Lucien thought he was going to die but no prayers came to him. They were alone.

The wait was excruciating when finally in a voice as terrible as the void spoke the dragon in an ancient tongue 

“Very well,” said the monster.

Lucien strained in the dark alleyways of the Drow city as these memories flooded his mind. He was perched where he could see clearly into the home of the noble he was hired to kill; he had memorized the routes of the guards and the routines and habits of everyone that lived in this house. His wait would be long, so long that he let his concentration slip as it often did when he was alone, into these same memories that played over and over again in his mind. What came next was the most vivid. 

The witch brought the children to a ritual circle with a basen at the center. Lucien’s Sister started to cry. 

The witch growled. “Silence!” the crying stopped in fear. 

She then cut both of their wrists over the basen in a quick single motion. Blood oozed into it as mist slowly krept around the circle.

She began chanting in a language that was harsh and hateful like the cutting of ice. The two stumbled back after the blood was collected and watched in horror as the Dragon stood and spread out its wings once more becoming greater and more terrible than before. The blood rose upwards in a stream that snaked further into the air. The chants grew louder, their rhythm haunting. On top of the chants Lucien heard unmistakable now the screams from before growing louder like a massacre in the distance was taking place. The Dragon drew the blood into its nostrils. Black clouds formed around the circle as an icy gust of wind hit them from the flap of the dragon's wings knocking them back into the edge of the circle. Something blocked them from leaving it. Lucien saw dark figures in the clouds and the chanting became a chorus of voices.

A shiver ran down Lucien's back but he did not shutter as the last moments of the ritual replayed in his mind.

The dragon ascended into the air and heaved. The girl finally let out the scream she had held for the past several days, piercing through every other sound in Lucien's awareness. He went to hold her and screamed her name. 

The dragon's breath consumed them, shadows poured into bleeding cuts on their wrists. Lucien could no longer see his sister. He could no longer see anything. But felt his body being torn asunder from the inside as the cold shadows poured into him. The pain was what felt like a lifetime drifting through planes of dark, dead lands under a black sun, constellations snuffed out, he felt his mind invaded by shadow. Every crevasse in his subconscious was snuffed and consumed by the dark until his ego shattered. Lucien became nothing, he became no one.

Lucien felt pain return to his left wrist as the memories faded. His target was here. He watched as the old elf entered his home. He was silent, silent for an ordinary citizen. His children never heard a sound as they slept, too young to meditate. Lucien remembered the first time that he developed the skill.

‘It was then’ he thought. ‘That I truly knew what it was to be an elf’

The man’s wife was deep in meditation and would not stir at her husband's arrival. She had come to accept that her husband would be late often. She stopped asking for what. She was aware of her surroundings in this state but she was not present. The noble went to his small cellar on the main floor as he always did to fetch the wine he so favored. His shadow guard patrolled unseen to the untrained eye. Lucien watched as they slipped in and out of shadow, using precise timing and with almost no sound. The noble and his family would never hear or see them unless they were commanded to reveal themselves. 

The noble began a frantic search around the small cellar, then around the house.

'I knew I left some here, Maybe one of the boys…' he thought as he made his way around the main level to the lower cellar.

The way became dark, and he knew that his wife could no longer sense him. He muttered a cantrip and the wall gleamed as a line of purple flame streaked across it spiraling for a hundred feet into the earth, lighting the path in a contrast of shadow and amethyst light. The elf was tired from the day and absently descended until he came to the base where there extended halls of racks stocked of the finest wine and ale. It was still dark he noticed, usually torches were lit in anticipation of the noble visiting the cellar. But now there was only the amethyst flame. He knew the route and finally saw what he was looking for. He was about to touch the bottle when something caught his eye that made him freeze where he stood. His heart pounded as he looked. In the shadows he saw two great eyes reflecting the purple flame in a menacing red. The creature was silent, the elf was about to call for help, normally a whisper would do. Why they hadn't noticed the creature already was not normal.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Before the elf could utter a sound he felt the quick and cold blade touch his throat and he heard a calm, musical voice whisper in his ear. 

“Make a sound and I’ll kill you” despite the intruder's obvious presence the noble still could not hear his footsteps at all.

“Besides” the intruder continued “I don’t think your men will be of much use to you now”

He forcibly cocked the noble’s head to a spot on the floor behind some barrels where, almost completely sealed in darkness, lay two of the unconscious shadow guards. The two that were stationed in the cellar.

“They weren’t easy you know” Lucien said “one of them was so loud i almost couldn’t help myself…" he cut himself off. 

A stiff and strong hand gripped the elf's shoulder and tightened at this. The noble continued to stare at the monstrous eyes at the end of the hall. His breathing became harder as the man spoke.

“Oh the dog” Lucien said “I wouldn’t worry about it. She only attacks when I tell it to. Don't worry, that won't happen yet if you behave. Unless you prefer to be eaten now?"

The noble shook his head.

“Right” Lucien said “i told you not to speak, that's good”

He patted the noble on the cheek and whistled. After this they heard the clangor of the iron doors to the cellar close shut.

“Now we can talk,” Lucien said.

He loosened the knife from the elfs neck and stepped back. 

“Have a seat,” he said.

The noble saw in the shadows coming in and out of the flickering light a chair that his new acquaintance must have prepared for this occasion. As he sat down the situation was becoming more and more clear. He began to beg. There was a chance the guards would come on their patrol but this attack was timed very well.

“Just tell me what you want, whatever you're being paid I’ll double it” the noble pleaded.

He did not see the invader. The hound kept half of his attention but there was no sign of the other elf.

“What do I want?” the voice came from his right. The other end of the hall. He looked and at first saw nothing. From the shadows came closer the dark form of a young drow flickering in shadow and firelight, barely visible until he was close enough to touch. His face and head were hairless. His skin was the color of stone as many drow were. His figure was still mostly obscured by shadow, but the contrasting light caused his head to, for a moment, appear as a grimacing skull making the noble's heart stop. His movements were graceful and a silence that pounded between the noble's heartbeats. There was a pause. The stranger seemed to be looking for the words.

“I have friends, powerful friends” the noble continued “I can help you with whatever you need, please I have a family, I…”

“Are you a religious person?” Lucien interrupted.

“What?” the noble asked, forgetting himself.

Lucien did not respond immediately but stared into his guests eyes. The noble finally saw the tall elf fully. His skin was gray as stone, his brow had deep caves accentuating the black on black eyes that hid in their shadows. Pointing down from the center of his dark purple thin lips was a black long needle painted to run the length of his chin. Similar needles pointed down from his eyes. As he spoke black mist seemed to seep from his mouth in thin strands.

“A religious person Limmerick” Lucien responded using the nobles' name now. “Do you worship the Gods?” Lucien continued.

The noble paused in uncertainty.

“Answer me!” Lucien demanded. His voice boomed throughout the chamber.

 The noble stammered through now anxious breaths. The hound began a low growl getting slightly closer. 

“I dont know!” The noble said finally in a panic.

Lucien put a finger to his lips and said “shhh, we mustn't be too loud. If your family sees me I will be forced to kill them.”

As he spoke he stood in front of the noble crouching to meet Limmerick’s sitting position.

“You feel it too,” Lucien continued.

The noble almost said “what” again. But just stared in horror.

“Can’t you feel that something is wrong with this world?” Lucien started to pace the hall as he spoke “the evil gods are spreading their influence across the world unchallenged, their herald’s ambitions ever greater. A creeping yet certain doom is already here, you can see it in their faces!” Lucien gestured, the noble assumed to the general populace.

“Look at me Limmerick so that i know you understand.” Lucien grabbed the man's shoulders, getting very close. Limmerick noticed that he could hardly feel the controlled breathing of the drow before him, If any.

“The good aligned God’s have gone silent." Lucien continued. "I believe they abandoned us long before though. Despair had permeated these lands when they were here. Don't you see the world is madness! It's an asylum!” Lucien had now wrapped around the noble to stroke his head from behind as he spoke. “...an asylum.” he repeated softly, drifting into thought.

Limerick was shivering in fear as he felt the moment approaching.

“Please,” he said.

Tears welled up in Limmerick’s face as he spoke through breaths that were getting heavier and shorter from panic.

“Please I don't want to die” he sobbed.

Lucien held the man’s head to his chest from behind him reassuring him like a mother reassuring her son.

“Shhh” he said calmly “It’ll be ok,” *Sobs continued “there is no reason to fear the dark. There is no reason to fear the silence”

The noble calmed a little before Lucien pulled out a white cloth and gagged him. He then casted a spell that held the noble in place. Though he could no longer move, muffled whimpers became more intense as Lucien moved away from the man. He knew that with the chamber doors shut no one could hear them. He only had a little more than a minute before the guards noticed their missing members and rushed to his location.

He finally said with genuine grief “goodbye Limmerick”

Lucien was alone with the sound of the muffled screams as the hound went for the noble's throat. It lasted for several seconds until once again the chamber was dead silent except for the drip of blood onto the stone floor. The hound vanished, its work was done. Lucien had already disappeared escaping into the city below when 5 guards emerged from the shadows at the scene and called the alarm.

The invasion of the undead into the underdark swept over the undercities like a wave. Before the wave reached Lucien’s city, the inhabitants fled to the country most central in the drow kingdoms. It was well fortified with great walls and defenses at its edge. Behind the parapets the wall stretched to the cave roof making going over and dropping into the city just as difficult as breaching the gate. The only ways in were narrow pathways that each held a phalanx of warriors. Lucien stayed with those who chose to fight at the walls. Something possessed him to see the incursion for himself. The wait was excruciating, for days they could only hear the distant echoing in the vast cave systems stretching the horizon of the thunder of skeletons beyond count marching in perfect unison and the shuffling and moaning of countless zombies, they could also hear, buried in the march, the sound of mournful wales and screams of sorrow that shivered all who heard it to the bone. The sound grew closer and louder each day until it hammered out everything else. 

Lucien looked over the parapet and saw the army of the dead stretched for miles beyond the horizon. Drow shouted orders, over the march, soldiers rushed to their stations, the catapults and eldritch cannons had already fired on the army. The riders of Lolth swarmed the walls of the underdark on the backs of giant wolf spiders before the enemy was at the gates, they hung from the ceiling with their arrows at the ready on giant stalactites. The stalactites were also rigged to blow as a last resort, once they knew that every civilian made it to the surface.

The undead were met by eldritch fire and stone. They were destroyed by the hundreds before reaching the gate. When they did, it looked as if a ceiling of heavy rain descended from above as arrows shattered bone and pierced dead flesh. Zombies piled onto the walls now covered in arrows. They clamored into great piles that threatened to reach the parapets. Many of these piles crumbled to deathly rain and the millions of spiders that consumed the zombies where they stood. The tide was faltering ever so slightly they thought. Those thoughts disappeared when the piercing cries of spirits rose in the air. The riders of Lolth looked to the ceiling’s horizon and saw in the distance the vast pale green line of wraiths, ghosts, and banshees heading toward them. Their captain shouted one last command and blew the horn that signaled the end. The riders of Lolth gave one last battle cry. 

Lucien was already fighting with adventurers and soldiers on the parapets when he heard the horn. Others answered in the distance and the drow retreated as fast and desperate as they could. They thought this fight would last for days.

The last thing Lucien saw of the battle were the explosions far above that followed a flood of spirits spilling into the stalactites. The stone sky fell upon the dead destroying this half of the city. 3000 defended the city. Now only a few hundred fled to the surface, the exits were sealed behind them.

“Madness” Lucien thought. “This world is madness”.