Vhael stood at the heart of a vast cavern, lit only by the faint glow of magical runes and glyphs that littered the rough-hewn walls. The still form of Ixhana laid motionless at the center, her body hoisted on top of a towering stone altar, carved with glyphs and runes that pulsed with an otherworldly energy.
Rhea stood next to the prophet, watching the scene before them unfold as ethereal projections. They could observe the events, but their presence remained intangible, unable to interact with the vision they saw.
Rhea's voice trembled with apprehension as she spoke, her eyes wide with concern. "Where are we, prophet? And is Ixhana...dead?"
The prophet stood beside the princess, their ghostly form shimmering in the unearthly light of the cavern. "Where we are, even I do not know," they replied with a shake of their head. "As for your second question, yes. Goddess Ixhana passed shortly after giving birth to Remuria."
"Is Vhael trying to resurrect the goddess?" Rhea asked, speaking with her voice so low she nearly whispered.
The prophet nodded. "Precisely," they said, their eyes fixed on the glowing glyphs and symbols that adorned the walls of the cavern. "But he will fail, you will see."
Rhea observed with growing unease as Vhael continued to carve intricate runes into the damp stone walls of the cavern. His movements were frenzied, almost manic. His eyes glinted with a hint of madness, as if he had been completely absorbed in the ritual he was about to perform.
As she watched, Rhea could sense the intensity of the energy in the room building, as if the cavern itself was straining against strange and unnatural forces yearning to be unleashed. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning incense, and the runes within the cavern glowed with a pulsing light that seemed to seep into the princess’s very bones. It was clear that Vhael had been preparing for the ritual for a long time.
“What in the heavens is Vhael trying to conjure?” Rhea gasped, her eyes wide with fear and confusion.
“Death, princess, death,” the prophet replied nonchalantly.
Rhea recoiled in horror, her mind struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what was happening before her. “Pardon?” she stammered.
“Vhael is trying to conjure the essence of death itself,” the prophet continued, their eyes fixed on Vhael's movements. “He believes he can control it and use it to revive Ixhana.”
Rhea watched in horror as Vhael inscribed more and more runes onto the walls of the cavern. The air crackled with dark energy, and the oppressive stillness grew heavier by the second. Once Vhael finished his preparations, he stood directly before the stone altar, his arms raised high in the air. He began chanting in an otherworldly language, his voice growing louder and more intense with each passing moment. The very air around them seemed to vibrate with the power of his incantations, and Rhea felt her heart pounding in her chest as she watched on in horror.
The damp cavern was shrouded in an ominous cacophony as Vhael continued his incantations, his body enveloped in a pulsating aura of dark energy. A thick mist began to emerge from the runes inscribed on the walls, coiling around Vhael's limbs like a serpent. At first, Vhael seemed pleased, almost exhilarated, by the sight of the mist. But as it grew thicker, darker, and more suffocating, Vhael's expression changed. His face twisted in agony as the mist began to consume his body, devouring his flesh and bone until all that was left was a dragon’s skull.
Vhael's body continued to transform, growing much taller, with two additional pairs of arms sprouting out from his torso like twisted vines. He let out a deafening shriek, a sound that shook the very foundations of the cavern and sent shivers down Rhea's spine. The dark mist that had enveloped Vhael began to spread outwards, billowing across the floor of the cavern in a thick cloud. Rhea could feel its icy tendrils wrapping around her body, suffocating her, blinding her. She struggled to breathe, her lungs filling with the thick, noxious vapor. It was as if the very air around her had turned to poison. She could not stay for much longer.
Rhea's voice trembled with fear and confusion as she called out to the prophet. "Prophet, I thought this was a mere vision, why do I feel so...?" Her words trailed off as she realized that the prophet was nowhere to be seen.
She turned around, her eyes wide with terror as she took in the strange, otherworldly landscape that surrounded her. The air was thick with a dark mist that made it difficult to see, and the ground beneath her feet felt unstable and shifting.
Rhea hastily tried to escape, her heart pounding in her chest as she searched for any sign of the prophet or any sign of an exit. But all around her, there was only the swirling mist and Vhael's maddening cries..
Darkness descended upon the princess like a thick, suffocating blanket, obscuring her vision and enveloping her in an all-consuming void. It was as if the very air had turned to ink, and Rhea could feel herself drowning in the abyss of shadows that surrounded her. She tried to call out for the prophet, but her voice was swallowed by the darkness. Panic began to claw at Rhea's mind as she realized she was completely alone in the dark, until suddenly, a white dragon skull materialized before her, staring back at her with empty eye sockets.
“Hello again, Princess of Ishgria,”
“Harbinger,” Rhea gasped, her heart pounding in her chest.
“It is I,” Vhael replied, his voice devoid of emotion.
“Where is the prophet?” Rhea asked, her voice quivering slightly.
“Faded, their essence scattered and headed to the underworld.”
“How so?”
“Without the power of the gods, the prophet was weak. The visions they showed you took the last vestiges of their strength away and so he cannot remain in the material realm,” Vhael explained.
“So how am I still here? In whatever this place is.”
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“I intervened, Princess of Ishgria. I figured a talk was in order.”
“Why? Vhael, why speak to me now?” Rhea asked, her confusion evident.
“Because I fear the path you may take, and regardless of where you go, my daughter will be involved.”
“You mean my quest for the Ishgrian throne?”
“Precisely,” Vhael confirmed.
“I understand that it will be difficult, but I never imagined it would be easy to begin with,” Rhea replied, her voice firm, but with a clear hint of uncertainty.
“It is not a matter of difficulty, princess. I fear that you too will be consumed by the darkness which consumes me at this very moment,” Vhael warned sternly.
“What do you mean by that?” Rhea asked.
Vhael turned to face the princess, his hollow “eyes” boring into hers. “You saw yourself, I tried to master death, to control it, to reject it. Yet, now, I stand without my beloved, condemned to the underworld.”
Rhea felt a chill claw at the back of her head. The surrounding darkness seemed to close in, suffocating her. “Your spell led to the deaths of several gods?” she asked incredulously.
“Yes,” Vhael replied, his voice heavy with regret. “It was no wonder I was banished to the underworld.”
Rhea tried to process everything she had just heard. “But I am here now, aren’t I?” she said, “I returned from death, thanks to you.”
“You attribute too much to me, princess,” Vhael said with a bitter laugh. “It is true that I gave you the body of an immortal, but by all accounts, you should have died in your duel against Sir Falkner.”
Rhea felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. “That doesn’t sound very immortal to me.”
“I do not jest, princess,” Vhael said, his voice somber. “All denizens of the underworld and those tied to it are weakened during the day and stronger when the moon rises. This includes you.”
“Then what of Remuria? She seems to have never had an issue with daylight.”
“Ixhana’s blood flows through her, strengthening her against the corrupting influences of the underworld,” Vhael explained. “Yet, even so, she still manifested the traits of a demon over time.”
“I see, so Remuria is the exception, not the rule.”
“Correct,” Vhael replied with a nod. “In your case, you felt it when the sun’s rays weakened your body when you clashed with Sir Falkner.”
Rhea couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. “You mentioned that I should have died then and there, so why am I here now? Why am I still able to walk the earth?”
“The underworld has taken a liking to you, princess, and I do not know why.”
“You speak of the underworld as if it were a living being, Vhael.”
“Because it is, the underworld has a mind of its own, I dare say it even has its own breath and pulse.”
Rhea felt a sense of unease settle over her. “How is that possible? The underworld is a place, a mirror to the heavens above, no?”
“That is a commonly held belief, but not entirely correct,” Vhael said. “Both the heavens and the underworld have their own voice. The former calls out to the divine and pious. The latter calls out to the fallen and the lost.”
“This is hard to accept all at once.”
“You need not accept my words as truth, princess, I only need you to listen,”
“Apologies then, please continue.” Rhea urged.
“As I stated earlier, the underworld chose you, princess. It gave you another chance at life, though your mortal upbringing did cause some complications,” Vhael explained, his sox rune-scarred arms gesturing to and fro.
Rhea felt a wave of confusion and fear wash over her. “So my resurrection after my death at Sir Falkner’s hands was not because of you?”
“That is correct, I merely restored your mind, the underworld was the one who actually allowed you to return to life,” Vhael confirmed regretfully.
Rhea felt a lump form in her throat as she realized the true extent of her connection to the underworld. “Then what of the first time, when I was cured of my illness, was that the underworld as well?”
“Partly, you can think of me as a conduit of the underworld, rather than someone who controls its power,” Vhael replied in a solemn tone.
“How are you able to remain sane then, Vhael? You have been in the underworld for a long time I would assume.”
“I have acclimated, being a former deity helped with that.”
“In that case, if I ever lose myself again, can you not restore me then?” Rhea asked, hoping that the harbinger would reply affirmatively.
“It will become more and more difficult over time, until I can no longer do so. Once the underworld has claimed you completely, even my magic cannot save you,” Vhael warned.
Rhea felt a sense of despair wash over her as she considered the magnitude of what Vhael was telling her. “Had I known this, perhaps I would have chosen to stay ill all those months ago,” she said regretfully.
“The past is the past, now you must walk the path you chose, princess.”
Rhea felt a sense of anger welling up inside her. “Why don’t you just stop me now, Vhael? Why warn me at all?” she asked, her voice now tinged with frustration.
“I have no desire to interfere with your plans, princess. I believe mortals should ultimately be left to be masters of their own destinies, for better or for worse,” Vhael replied, his voice calm and measured.
Rhea calmed herself down, taking deep breaths, arguing with the harbinger would not lead her anywhere. “That is admirable, harbinger, yours is a sentiment not shared by many gods I assume.”
“It is not, but I do not care. Nonetheless, I have said my piece, you have been warned.”
“Thank you, Vhael, I will keep your words in mind,” Rhea said, her voice now filled with a sense of determination.
“Be careful, princess, for your sake, and for my daughter’s” Vhael warned once more, turning his back against the princess before walking away into the abyss.
“I will.”
As Vhael's form dissipated, the suffocating darkness that had enveloped the hut began to lift. The sparse furnishings and rough-hewn walls of the prophet's dwelling emerging from the void.
Rhea stood motionless. The prophet's visions and Vhael's warning had left her reeling. Her thoughts were in turmoil, and she couldn't quite put into words what she was feeling. She felt lost and unsure of herself, uncertain of what her next move should be. All Rhea knew was that no matter what, she could not allow herself to lose sight of her ultimate goal; her rightful place at the Ishgrian Throne.