How wonderful it is to hear the song of the tormented
When they have arrived at their final destination
Woe not to the weak and the wicked
But to those of strong will and righteous conviction
-Excerpt from the book of lost souls
Remuria and Vhael soared across the darkened skies of the Underworld, untouched by the pale sands below. The deathbringer led the way on his six, jet-black feathered wings, with his daughter following closely behind on her own pair of onyx wings.
“Are you sure the prophet will be there, father?”
“I am certain, daughter, my wraiths have confirmed their location.” Vhael explained, looking behind his shoulder.
“I still can’t believe they are actually alive.”
“Alive, is a poor choice of words.”
“Pardon?” Remuria asked aloud, flying forwards in lockstep with her father.
“The prophet has not been alive for a long time, neither when he walked the earth, and certainly not now.” Vhael explained to the tune of his great wingbeat.
“Is the prophet even human?”
“No, daughter, and they never were.”
“So, are they friend or foe?” Remuria quizzed.
“That is what we are going to discover.” Vhael said, holding out one of his rune-scarred arms to point at a large spire in the distance. “There, there is where we shall land.”
The spire was a construct which many would consider a mockery of architecture. It was twisted and warped in a way that defied common sense. With a myriad of spindles and loosely hanging rocks, clinging onto the air, unsupported. Massive, spiked stalagmites erupted from the spire’s floor, making themselves visible even from miles away. Surrounding the structure were hundreds of screeching banshees and damned souls floating haplessly in the air, their heads perpetually ablaze: an eternal punishment for mortal souls too weak to survive in the cold depths of the underworld.
“The prophet is inside that, really?” Remuria asked aloud, a chuckle breaking out of her lips.
“I need you to take this seriously, daughter, for your sake and mine.” Vhael replied sternly, turning his dragon skull visage to the side, imitating the motions of a glance with his hollow eye sockets.
“My apologies, father.” Remuria said softly. It was never a good sign when Vhael became serious.
“It is of no matter.” Vhael replied, turning his dragon skull visage forward once more. “We will soon descend, when we do, stay close to me.”
“Understood, father.”
As Remuria and the harbinger began to close in on the spire, her thoughts began to drift to that of Rhea. Over a year had passed since she had been separated from her beloved by that accursed sandstorm. She had tried desperately to find the princess to no success. She hoped that the prophet may be able to provide some answers as to Rhea’s whereabouts, though, by the tone of Vhael’s words, her expectations remained as low as possible.
“Prepare to descend, daughter.” The harbinger commanded.
“Yes, father.” Remuria replied, slowing down her flight.
As the pair began to descend to the foot of the spire. The cacophony of shrieking banshees and tortured souls parted like water. They seemed to flee from a sense of primordial fear, unable to bear witness to the deathbringer. Some among the blazing ones had the flames which were once confined to their heads spread out to consume their ghastly bodies whole. For these unfortunate souls, their wails of pain beat out even the loudest of banshees.
Vhael landed harshly, blasting countless grains of sand in all directions. Remuria followed with a more elegant landing, her two feet falling on the sands below like a featherweight.
“That took longer than I expected.” Remuria said while stretching, her hands straightened above the curved horns perched on her head.
“Indeed it was, but we have arrived. Now is the time to be vigilant, draw your blade, daughter, and follow me.” Vhael instructed, beckoning Remuria to walk beside him with one pair of his six pale arms.
Remuria obliged, chanting a familiar spell: Ave Ixhana, and a familiar ethereal gray blade manifested in her hands once more. Oros seemed to shine brighter here in the underworld than it ever did on the material realm, its ethereal gray light taunting the surrounding darkness with its merciless glow.
The harbinger led his daughter into the corrupt spire, its gates slowly wheezed open, as if its hinges had suffered from an untenable rust. The inside of the spire, however, was somehow more inconceivable than its exterior. The interior’s “floor”, if one could call it that, was a writhing mass of questing tentacles, grasping at the air as if in search of prey to subsume into itself. The long corridor seemed better suited to an eldritch nightmare than inside of any structure.
“You may do the honors, father.” Remuria said light-heartedly, motioning herself into a mock bow.
Vhael let out a deep sigh, before motioning for Remuria to get behind him. Though the harbinger may not always appreciate his daughter’s humor, he could not bring himself to ever stay frustrated at her for long. The deathbringer then prepared to cast a spell, bringing four of his hands to the center of his towering form. Enigmatic words began to echo throughout the area, as the runes on Vhael’s hands began to glow. With a swift motion, Vhael brought one of his hands forward into a pointed finger, and with one last whisper: Bhat’kar, black flames emerged and desecrated every single tentacle in front of him. Within seconds, there were no more questing tendrils, only the smell of charred flesh and echoes of flickering wisps which slowly waffed around the air until they faded into nothingness.
“Come, daughter.” Vhael said as he traversed deeper into the corridor.
Remuria nodded, then followed her father, She checked her tail occasionally to ensure it did not accidentally brush against any remaining charred tentacles. Her wings tucked behind her back as she proceeded onwards with caution.
Walking further through the corridor, Remuria couldn’t help but feel as if she had been walking for much longer than she should have. She could have sworn that she saw a door at the edge of her vision. But after what felt like an eternity of walking, Remuria felt no closer to the door than when she first started.
“Father, is it just me or have we been walking for much longer than necessary?” Remuria asked, still walking at a steady pace.
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“We have, it is the nature of this place. If you spot a floating eyeball anywhere, stab it with your sword immediately.”
“Where can I find this eyeball?
“It’s likely hiding within a crack inside the walls,” Vhael explained, his pale hands grazing the surrounding walls, trying to search for the enigmatic eyeball.
Remuria slowed her pace, her eyes scanning her environment more carefully. She made use of her tail to tap at the small gaps and crevices in the floor below and the walls beside her, hoping to find something that could lead her to her target.
After walking for a few more minutes, suddenly, Remuria felt her tail brush against something soft and watery, instinctively, she turned and thrust Oros to the source of that strange sensation: her body moving faster than her mind could follow. When her eyes began to track what exactly she had just thrust her sword into, a smile began to break on her visage, as she saw a fleshy eyeball impaled in between Oros’s edge.
Drawing Oros back to its hilt, Remuria broke out a huge smile, “The eye is no more, father.”
“Excellent work, daughter, our exit should appear soon.” Vhael complimented, stroking Remuria’s head with one of his pale hands.
“I’m not so young anymore you know.” Remuria quipped jokingly.
Vhael brushed away some debris from Remuria’s shoulder, “perhaps, but you’ll always be my daughter to me.”
Remuria acquiesced and let her father do as she wished. She knew that Vhael misses her presence often, and she would feel guilty if she were to reject her father’s gestures of affection.
“Is that our exit?” Remuria asked, pointing towards a door which had suddenly manifested a few feet away.
“Indeed, let us proceed.”
When Vhael opened the door and tried to enter it, Remuria couldn’t help but break out into laughter. The door was relatively large all things considered, but still barely enough for Vhael’s towering frame to squeeze through.
“Are you alright there father?” Remuria teased. Still clutching her stomach from laughter.
“I must admit that this is rather awkward.” Vhael replied, though his dragon skull visage could not betray any emotion, his voice was clearly disgruntled.
“Alright, let’s try to get you inside.” Remuria moved to try and help squeeze Vhael through into the doorframe. Her left hand pressed against the harbinger’s cloak of flickering flames, which did not harm Remuria in any way. While her right hand tried to fold one of Vhael’ massive wings so that it could fit through the door frame. Yet, the most challenging part was fitting the horns of Vhael’s dragon skull head through. It took several tries and many bumps against the doorframe before Remuria could get her father’s head inside.
Once Vhael was through the door, Remuria followed closely behind. She was immediately met with a massive, circular, stairwell which seemed to climb higher and higher with no end in sight.
“Father, do you happen to have a spell that will allow us to climb these stairs faster?” Remuria asked nervously, hoping for an affirmative response.
“I do not, but I can carry you if you wish, daughter.”
Remuria immediately began to ascend the stairs ahead of Vhael, “you know, maybe these stairs won’t be so bad after all.”
The harbinger let out a wistful sigh as he shrugged, his eyes following his daughter as she walked ahead of him. It pained him to realize just how much time had passed since his little girl had been small enough to fit into his arms. The memory of her excited giggles as he playfully lifted her into the air like a bird brought a bittersweet smile to his face. But as much as it saddened him to see his daughter grown and independent, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at her growth. Knowing that she was capable of taking care of herself gave him a great sense of comfort.
After hours of grueling ascent up the seemingly never-ending stairs, Remuria and Vhael finally emerged into a mind-boggling hallway. The air was thick with the acrid stench of sulfur and the hiss of arcane energies. Vortexes of strange magic swirled and twisted in the air, manifesting their malice in the form of violet flames and sparks of blueish lightning that danced and flickered across the walls. Glowing runes etched into the brimstone floor below seemed to pulse with a malevolent power, their twisting lines and angles forming intricate patterns that were both mesmerizing and terrifying. Worse yet, a cacophony of whispers filled the air, their words impossible to discern but for one word that seemed to repeat like a chant: death.
“Follow me daughter, and keep as close to me as possible. Try to ignore the whispers as well, close your eyes if you need to.” Vhael instructed, taking a step into the eldritch hallway.
Remuria nodded and grasped her father’s black flame robes with her right hand. Though she was unable to bring herself to speak out, Vhael was her solace at that very moment. She followed her father dutifully as he walked to the end of the hallway.
The pair continued until they found themselves in a chamber of immense size. The space was dominated by rows upon rows of gargantuan pillars, each one towering over them and dwarfing even Vhael’s formidable form. As they made their way through the maze of columns, Remuria couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer magnitude of the place, though a strange unease slowly began to gnaw at her mind, something deep within her was warning her of the danger that the place held.
Standing in the middle of the pillars was a familiar figure: a humanoid figure cloaked in dark blue robes with a visage concealed underneath a golden mask, with arms that seemed to resemble the stars themselves: here was the prophet.
“Greetings Vhael, as well as you too, Lady Remuria.” The prophet said with a bow.
The prophet's bow was graceful, but it did nothing to quell Vhael's contempt. “Spare me the nonsense, prophet. Tell me, when did you allow your soul to be tainted by the underworld?” Vhael demanded, his voice laced with scorn.
The prophet responded with laughter which boomed throughout the chamber. "Ah, Vhael. Always so direct. I suppose I should not have expected any less from the former god of knowledge." The prophet mocked sarcastically. "But tell me, harbinger, has your fall from grace taken more than just your title?"
Vhael snarled. "You are playing with fire, prophet. Your soul is not meant to touch the underworld. I can see its corruption fester in your essence as we speak."
The prophet tilted their golden visage sideways in a mocking display. "Ah, but isn't that what makes it so thrilling? To walk the razor's edge, to defy the gods themselves...that is true power."
"So you refuse to speak," Vhael growled. "Very well." With a chant, the harbinger unleashed a torrent of pale lightning from one of his rune covered hands, aimed straight at the prophet's heart.
The prophet's hand moved with uncanny speed, intercepting Vhael's blast with a resounding swat. The air crackled as the pale lightning arced off their fingertips, sending it hurtling towards a nearby pillar. The impact was deafening, as the structure was split in two, the sound of shattering stone echoing through the massive chamber. Chunks of debris rained down upon the ground, sending up a cloud of dust and debris that choked the air. Despite this, the prophet remained unfazed, their masked visage staring back at Vhael.
“Your aim seems to be off, harbinger.” the prophet scoffed, walking towards Vhael slowly.
“Don’t be silly, prophet, that was only a small taste of what I intend to do to you.” Vhael sneered, the runes on his hands glowing as he prepared to unleash a barrage of spells.
“You wish to fight me here? While your daughter is nearby?” The prophet taunted.
“Daughter, you need to get away.” Vhael said aloud, but there was no response. “Daughter?” This time, Vhael turned his dragon skull visage around, trying to find Remuria. To his horror, Remuria was nowhere to be seen.
As Vhael's attention was drawn away, the prophet seized the opportunity and conjured a searing ball of bluish flames. With a fierce flick of their wrist, the fireball hurtled towards the distracted harbinger, engulfing him whole. The intense heat and searing flames wracked Vhael's prone form, the bluish flames ate away at his pale flesh, leaving behind the black char of burnt flesh.
“Come now, deathbringer, is this all you can do?” the prophet taunted once more.
“So you have chosen death.” Vhael growled.
In an instant, the entire chamber was consumed in an inky black abyss. The air grew thick and suffocating, as if the deathbringer himself was omnipresent throughout the chamber, his malice and anger seeping through even the smallest cracks and crevices.
An eerie silence descended, with not even the faintest hum of wind to be heard. Yet, the prophet remained defiant, their starry hands glowing faintly in the darkness. "Is this supposed to scare me, harbinger?" they scoffed.
“No, but this is.”
Suddenly, a chilling force seized hold of the prophet, forcing them to their knees. Their robes began to unravel, disappearing into the air thread by thread, exposing the prophet’s star transposed body to surrounding darkness. Their golden mask began to crack and dissolve, piece by piece, crumbling away into nothingness.