Squinting, Claude's eyes took a moment to refocus, adjusting to the scene before him. It was an unearthly sight—pure, unadulterated white marble as far as the eye could see. The walls, the floor, and even the ceiling, all gleamed with a radiant white sheen that seemed almost unnatural in its perfection.
The marble hall stretched on endlessly. Claude's eyes followed the pristine lines of the architecture, noting how the walls converged at points, forming an endless series of arches that disappeared into the horizon.
Yet, for all its beauty, the sight was deeply unsettling. It was a place that seemed to reject the passage of time as if eternity itself had been forged into the very stone.
Claude sighed, trying to shake off the heavy feeling that had settled in his chest. "At least there's a change in scenery...?" he muttered, trying to muster some optimism. But even he couldn't ignore the dread gnawing at his thoughts.
How many more times will he have to walk through labyrinthine halls?
It was a question he knew no answer to.
Walking forwards Claude's footsteps echoed hollowly off the marble, their sound swallowed by the vastness of the space.
Nevertheless, as he walked he realised that the walls weren't entirely bare—along one side, a tapestry ran the length of the corridor.
Claude's gaze traced the vivid scenes engraved onto the marble. A familiar winged entity hovered over a sprawling city, its form indistinct, but its eyes—those crimson eyes—still burned with scorn. Below it, figures of humans prostrated in worship, their forms small and insignificant compared to the monstrous being above.
In the next scene, the entity was locked in battle with a sword-wielding warrior clad in armour, a tattered cape billowing behind them. They were soon joined by others—a woman holding a trident and a crown, a figure shrouded in lightning, and a giant who bore the weight of mountains on their shoulders. Together, they stood against the winged entity, but the battle was fierce, and the outcome uncertain.
Claude's breath hitched as he moved further down the corridor. The figures disappeared, leaving behind a city reduced to a massive crater, the ground cracked and desolate. Above it, the pointed sun engraved into the marble had been replaced by a cold, empty circle—perhaps the moon, perhaps not.
To most, this scene might have simply depicted the passage of time, day turning into night, and the end of this supposed battle. But Claude knew better.
'This is the Fall...' Claude thought, his mind racing. 'But how...? Who made this...?'
Nevertheless, as his mind flicked to those people he had seen in that room with a pool of blood, he felt like he already knew the answer
Time lost its meaning as Claude continued his journey, the tapestry beside him shifting in its narrative.
Claude's steps faltered as the hours—or perhaps days—passed. His legs ached, and his throat was parched, but he pressed on, drawing water from the air with a quick spell to quench his thirst.
He couldn't afford to stop, not now, not when an escape might be just within reach- or at least he hoped.
The only thing to distract him from this seemingly eternal trek was the stories depicted by the tapestry.
Which, at this point no longer seemed to depict the world he was previously in, the landscapes were now alien and the figures unknown.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
And, the final story it showed was... the oddest of the bunch.
Unlike the others, this tapestry depicted a war with three opposing forces.
On one side, was a towering winged entity, which Claude instinctively recognised as Zethrax. Whilst, on the other side, an army of familiar steel titans, their ranks stretching into the horizon.
But it was the third figure that dominated the scene, seizing Claude’s gaze and attention. This monstrous being was depicted with twisted, blackened flesh and unnaturally elongated limbs.
Beneath its bloated torso, the lower half of the creature was serpentine, coiled around the ruins of fallen cities, its scales etched with the tormented faces of the damned. Massive, clawed hands dripping with a black, oily substance, seeped onto the landscape beneath it.
Its face was a grotesque duality: one-half smooth and beautiful, the other hideously deformed, with fiery eyes and a grin that revealed rows of jagged teeth. A crown of twisted thorns and bones hovered above its head, glowing with a dark, all-consuming light.
Whilst Claude's thoughts hovered on the tapestry, he was snapped out of his thoughts by a change in his surroundings.
He finally saw something ahead—something that filled him with fragile hope.
The marble hallway he had been traversing came to an end, branching into three distinct paths.
On either side, massive doors loomed, each carved from the same pristine white marble, their surfaces smooth and unadorned, save for their imposing size.
In stark contrast, the path in the middle lay open and vulnerable, unguarded by any such barrier.
'Marble doors? Who in their right mind would make marble doors...?' Claude thought, his weariness momentarily forgotten as he approached. Two of the doors stood to either side, imposing and immovable.
He pushed against one, then the other, using all his strength, but they didn't budge. They might as well have been carved from the very bones of the earth.
Plopping himself down between the entrances, Claude indulged in his thoughts, frustration gnawing at him. "Do I just blast my way through one of these? Or do I use the one without a door…?"
His gaze shifted to the third entrance, a dark passageway that seemed to absorb the light around it. The shadows clung to it, dense and impenetrable, like the gaping maw of some horrible beast.
The idea of using his magic to force his way through one of the doors was tempting, but the thought of what might be lurking behind them held him back.
He had no desire to openly expose himself to whatever might be lying in wait. For all he knows, the moment he blasts open one of those doors, he might be ambushed and caught unaware.
The open passage was ominous, but at least it presented a clear path forward. With a final sigh, Claude made his decision.
He stood and began his careful descent into the darkness. Inch by inch, he pushed forward, his senses on high alert.
Fwish!
With a sudden rush of air, the torches lining the walls flared to life, one after another, casting flickering light across the marble.
Claude flinched, instinctively attempting to conjure a spell before controlling himself. 'I have nine spells left, I can't waste any...'
He forced himself to keep moving, trying to rid himself of that voice telling him to turn around and try another path, and he soon recalled the words of a certain old man.
Claude, when you make a decision, commit to it fully. In the moment, there's no way to know if it's right or wrong—such truths reveal themselves only in hindsight. But hesitation is your enemy. It breeds weakness, and weakness invites failure. And failure... leads to despair.
Gritting his teeth, Claude continued deeper into the passage, his footsteps echoing in the now-illuminated hallway.
Finally, the torches ended, leaving only darkness ahead. Claude's head swivelled around trying to peer into the darkness for something. Something to at least calm himself down. Something to stop the hammering of his heart within his chest.
And then, a voice sounded.
"Oh my! Look what we have here... A rat scurrying through my castle?" The words were laced with amusement, echoing around him from every direction.
"Who?!" Claude's head snapped towards where the voice came from.
Click!
The sound of fingers snapping, and the entire area was flooded with light. Chandeliers overhead, previously dormant, burst into a dazzling brilliance, illuminating the grand chamber he now found himself in.
Claude's eyes quickly scanned the room, trying to take in everything at once. A majestic throne sat upon a mountain of bones, flanked by two large fountains—each one flowing not with water, but with blood, some of it dark and clotted, some bright and fresh. The smell suffocating.
And on that throne sat a figure, humanoid in shape, but twisted in every other sense. It was no larger than Claude, but its presence was overwhelming. Crimson skin, horns curling from its head, and a grin that showed fanged teeth—it was a monster. No, a demon.