Chapter One: The Sewers Of Aerlyn

“Rod. Wake up.” The voice ripped me from a deep, dreamless sleep.

“One more minute, Mom,” I mumbled, clutching at the last vestiges of rest.

I was exhausted—bone-tired. The last three days had been a whirlwind of madness. My father, dead. My best friend, arrested. A weight pressed down on me, an invisible vice squeezing the life out of me. Their faces flashed behind my eyelids, blurry and fleeting, like reflections in turbulent water. Before I could reach for the memories, they slipped away, leaving behind only a dull ache.

A yawn tore through me, and I shifted on the rough, uneven ground. My chest pressed against the scorching floor, and I blindly searched for a pillow that wasn’t there. My arm would have to do.

Suddenly, a faint light flickered in the darkness—a scroll, beige and aged, unfurling in front of my eyes. I blinked, startled, as my body shuddered with the sudden jolt from sleep.

Why now? Why this? I tried to move, but the air was thick and stifling, searing my skin with each breath. The oppressive heat clung to me, sweat beading on my brow and dripping down my neck. I inhaled sharply, but the air felt like it was being drawn through a furnace, burning my lungs. Darkness surrounded me, suffocating and absolute, except for the glowing scroll that floated just out of reach.

Even with my eyes closed, I could still see it, its pale light a cruel reminder that escape was impossible.

{Would you like to undergo the Rite of Penance?}

"Rite of Penance? I’m dead?" I whispered, the words scraping against my raw throat.

Before I could grasp what was happening, an overwhelming force crushed in from every side, as if the very air itself had become solid. My chest tightened, and I gasped, each breath a battle. Panic surged through me. The void stretched infinitely in all directions, an endless abyss that swallowed my screams whole. Pain, sharp and relentless, slammed into me, wave after wave, tearing through my mind and body like jagged glass.

I hung suspended, trapped in the agony, every second a fight for survival. My body convulsed, muscles straining against the invisible chains that held me. The darkness pressed harder, suffocating, crushing me under its weight. There was no escape. Only pain. Only suffering.

I tried to scream, but the sound barely escaped my lips—a broken, feeble cry lost in the abyss.

I can’t be dead. I can’t. I thought, desperate, but the words dissolved as quickly as they had formed. The pain intensified, a fire that scorched every nerve in my body. I wanted to tear my skin off, to escape the unrelenting torment, but I was helpless, trapped in this void.

The words blazed brighter in my mind, the scroll’s message forcing itself to the forefront of my consciousness.

{This is your final chance. Would you like to undergo the Rite of Penance?} {Yes/No}

My mind, once sharp, was now a haze of confusion and pain. Instinct clawed at me, urging me to say yes, to make the agony stop. But something held me back—a flicker of fear, perhaps, or the remnants of rational thought.

"Final chance for what?" I whispered, each word a battle, my lips barely able to move. "Will it take away the pain?"

The countdown began, an ominous ticking that echoed in the void, each second like a knife twisting deeper into my soul.

{Ten.}

I gritted my teeth, my body trembling under the strain. It would be so easy to give in, to let go. To let it all end.

But what if it didn’t end? What if it just got worse? People like me—people haunted by memories, broken beyond repair—would never find peace. Would I even survive long enough to see the other side?

{Eight.}

The pain was unbearable now, spreading through me like wildfire. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. All I could do was endure.

I thought of my father and mother. Of the life we had once had. My best friend. Their faces flickered again in the darkness, distorted by the agony, unreachable.

{Six.}

My chest heaved, every breath a searing struggle. The pain was too much. Too much. Sleep. I just wanted to sleep.

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{Five.}

The scroll glowed brighter, searing its message into my mind. Final chance. Rite of Penance. I didn’t know what it meant. But I knew this: I wasn’t ready for oblivion.

I could end it now. Say no, let the void take me. Let the pain wash over me, consume me whole.

{Three.}

But something deep inside wouldn’t let me. A spark. A desire to fight. To endure, even if only for a moment longer.

{One.}

“Yes," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Yes, I’ll undergo the Rite of Penance."

I screamed, my voice finally breaking free, a raw, primal sound that echoed into the void as the words, glowing with finality, burned into my soul.

~Run 1, Entrance, Floor 1, Sewers of Aerlyn~

The pain, the agony, the lingering shadow of torture—all of it vanished in an instant. For a moment, I felt relief. Then, revulsion hit like a tidal wave. A horrific stench pulled me back to reality, so pungent it squeezed my lungs and stole my breath. Instinctively, my hand shot to my nose, desperate to block out the rot of sewage. The acrid odor seared my nostrils, and my eyes watered. I gagged, the taste of moldy bread and bile rising in my throat.

I had to get away from the smell. Now.

Frantic, I scanned the room, seeking escape. Three exits. One behind me, two across the foul space. No time to think.

I spun toward the closest door and lunged. My heart pounded, my hands shaking as I fought with the handle. Each futile push drained my hope, despair clawing at my chest. The door wouldn’t budge. I tried again, shoving harder, the metallic bar biting into my palms.

Locked.

Panic surged. I swallowed, gagging on the rancid taste of the air. It was worse the second time, like dirty socks soaked in sewage and left to rot. Coughing, I stumbled backward, my body shaking.

Why? Why is this happening? Make it stop.

Something slithered past my foot. I recoiled, hitting the wall. If I didn’t get out soon, I was done for.

Okay. Calm down. Eyes darting around the room, I tried to focus. Tried to think.

The walls loomed, crumbling and rotting, green slime crawling down their surfaces. Once, they had been strong, neat, built from solid grey brick. Now? Decay had ravaged them. Cracks snaked along their length, and grime covered everything. The room was falling apart, filthy and broken.

Gone were the pleasant aromas of roses and afternoon tea. Queen Jamie and I...

Wait. Queen Jamie? My mind swam, memories slipping through my fingers like water. A garden. Manicured bushes. Her pristine mourning gown... None of it made sense. The images blurred and faded, fragments of a life I wasn’t sure was mine.

I shook my head, confused. A metallic clang echoed in the distance, snapping me back to the present. I forced myself to move, squelching through ankle-deep sludge that clung to my legs like leeches. The stone floor beneath was slick with slime, every step treacherous.

No. I know this place. Penance.

The thought hit me like a hammer. Ma always said Penance was a lie, a myth spun by the church to keep people in line. I’d heard the stories—the Merchant of Death, the prison for thieves, murderers. I never believed it.

But standing here, ankle-deep in filth, uncertainty gnawed at me. This wasn’t a prison, right? Just a sewer.

A flash of light exploded in my mind. I gasped, clutching at my temples as the memory faded. Ma. Jamie. Who were they? The pounding in my head grew worse, my legs trembling as dread crept through me.

A torch flickered ahead. Focus on the light. Move. Each step was harder than the last, the fog in my mind thickening. Penance wasn’t supposed to steal memories. Was it?

My fingernails dug into my scalp as I tried to hold onto the fragments. Nothing. The images slipped away, vanishing into the void of my thoughts. I bit down on the panic, ignoring the solid waste drifting past me.

Something slithered again, brushing against my leg. This time, I lost it. My hands shot into the water, and I yanked out the weight pressing on my foot. A rat. Its teeth sank into my hand, pain flaring through my arm like fire.

I screamed, throwing the creature with all my strength. It hit the wall with a sickening thud. Blood dripped from my hand, but the pain ebbed, fading too quickly.

Shaken, I stumbled forward, my eyes fixed on the torch ahead. I grabbed it, the warmth of the flame a lifeline. Another memory hit me—an old man, dull-eyed, lecturing a classroom. Gone again. I stared down at my hand. The wound wasn’t there. No blood. No pain. Nothing.

What is this place?

I glanced toward where I’d thrown the rat, trying to make sense of it all. My eyes flicked to the door. Desperately, I yanked the handle. Locked.

I’m in danger. I chuckled, my voice high and nervous, teetering on the edge of a breakdown. I leaned against the door, clutching the torch like a shield. I needed to escape, to survive. My head throbbed, and my thoughts scattered, but the fire in my hands grounded me.

Focus.

I inched closer to the wall, watching in disgust as sewage oozed from the cracks and floated upward. Impossible. The fluid slid toward the ceiling. A faded mural caught my eye beneath the filth, the drawings too smeared to make sense. Then I heard it—a sound, splashing through the muck.

My breath hitched. My grip on the torch tightened. Something was out there, moving through the sludge.

A rat—maybe the one I had thrown—waded through the filth, its eyes locked on me. It reared up, shrieking, baring its sharp, yellowed teeth. I stumbled back, pressing myself against the door. The torch flared in front of me, my only defense.

Why am I thinking about my hands? Attack, you idiot!

The rat lunged. I swung the torch down, but the rat dodged, quick and vicious. Its fur smoldered as embers landed on its back, and it screeched in pain. It circled, ready to strike again.

Move. I threw myself to the side as it sprang at my face. My back slammed into the doorframe, but I barely registered the pain.

The rat hesitated, and I seized the moment. I swung the torch again, narrowly missing its head. My frustration boiled over. “Almost had you.”

The rat snarled, and this time, it leaped. I raised the torch, but it used the flame as a springboard, launching itself at my face. Instinct took over. I headbutted the rat, knocking it off balance. I grabbed it, slamming it down into the sewage, holding it under with all my strength. Its body convulsed, choking on the filth. I pressed harder, my heart racing. Finally, it stopped moving.

I stood, panting, victorious.