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Soulstice
Chapter Four - Mimic

Chapter Four - Mimic

With cautious, calculated steps, Arlarue descended the rocky terrain further into the cavern. She held her lantern over each dropoff, its flickering flame casting odd shadows along the walls, and studied her path before continuing on. A few minutes into her journey into the unknown, she could see what looked like a widening of the cave into a clearing. Her pupils dilated as she peered into the darkness, for the light of her lantern only illuminated her nearest surroundings. Her short elven ears tilted ever so subtly upward as she fixated on a particular black figure barely visible through the thick darkness. It stood out from the rest of the cave–it didn’t look like a rocky formation or something of similar nature. It appeared to be in the shape of some animal, but not even her genetically-given ability to see well in darkness could help her make out what exactly she was looking at. So she stared for a moment longer until a soft, strangled voice echoed against the damp walls of the cavern.

“Pleeeease…”

The voice had Arlarue frozen in her boots with fear, and she placed her trembling hand over her knife once more. She stared wide-eyed at the figure, heart racing within her chest, and she swore she saw it move ever so slightly.

“Help me..!”

The voice rang out once more in a strained crescendo, high in pitch, raspy and uncanny. It terrified the young half-elf so intensely that she gasped, subconsciously attempting to take a step back. As she backed up, the ledge beneath her other foot gave way, crumbling beneath her weight and sending her tumbling down the rocky path before her. She couldn’t help but scream as she lost her footing and clawed at something–anything–to grab onto, but it was for naught as she plummeted over the rugged terrain. Her lantern had slipped from her grasp, clanking against the ground in its descent and its flame promptly being smothered, leaving her in pure darkness.

She tumbled maybe a few yards down the way before hitting solid even ground, and she clutched her abdomen as she gasped for the air that had been knocked right out of her. She groaned in pain, rolling from her back to her side so as not to lay on her own backpack and extended her arms in front of her in search of her only source of light. “God dammit,” she groaned out curses as she slowly lifted herself off the ground onto her hands and knees. She allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness, and she spotted the small, dying ember of her lantern a short distance away. With a grimace and a grunt, she crawled her way over to it and gripped its thin metal handle before picking herself up off the cold ground. She fearfully scrambled for another match and struck it, reigniting her lantern and illuminating the area once more. She whipped her head over her shoulder to face the direction in which she saw the figure. It was gone. She took a few deep breaths and dusted her trousers off, examining herself briefly for any injuries.

“God, I really shouldn’t be down here,” she muttered to herself, lifting her head and continuing on further into the unknown.

Her footsteps reverberated off the tall walls of the cavern so vividly it almost sounded like someone else was walking beside her. She held her lantern out in front of her, studying the formations of the cave. Jagged stalactites protruded from the ceiling, drops of moisture dripping from their tips every now and then. A few boulders were scattered throughout the clearing, some of them causing potential pathways to be inaccessible. However, it seemed there was a clear path before her that led through yet another narrow opening. So she followed, the stagnant air becoming thicker and heavier as she trudged on.

Arlarue found that the narrow opening extended into a tunnel as she approached. She carefully, slowly, walked down the path when she noticed something glistening along the rightmost wall. With a concentrated brow, she lifted her lantern up to it to discover thick, red streaks trailing along the length of the wall before fading out. Her face twisted into a disgusted grimace and she leaned in for a closer look. A subtle metallic scent wafted from it, and she immediately drew herself back upon smelling it.

“What the fuck is this place..?” she questioned. Her heart was picking up pace now, and she bit the inside of her cheek as she hesitantly turned back to the direction she was headed.

Faint, distant shuffling could be heard in the distance down the tunnel, causing Arlarue’s palms to sweat and her breathing to become erratic and shallow as though she were trying to stifle her respirations from whoever, or whatever, may be in this cave with her. The tunnel was seemingly never going to end when she eyed a vague, crimson-red glow beginning to trickle into view from around a bend. She gripped the handle of her hunting knife, tracing her finger over the carving of her father’s name in the wood as if to reassure herself. As she neared the bend in the tunnel, she heard an all too familiar voice.

“Mom!” cried the voice from within.

She immediately stopped, her eyes widening, brows turned upward in both fear and pure disbelief. Her ears twitched as she continued to listen, not yet rounding the corner to face the source of the glow. The long, dreadful wails of a sobbing child reverberated through the tunnel, ringing incessantly in her ears. Her whole body became overrun with chills.

“Rue..! Help me!” her little brother screamed desperately through the cavern.

Arlarue immediately broke into a sprint, her heels scraping against the ground as she whipped around the corner of the tunnel, her heart beating a mile a minute, her work of breathing increasing to an anxiety-ridden pant.

“Saith!” she repeatedly screamed as she ran down the passage, her voice beginning to crack. The glow became evermore apparent as she descended the path and eventually emerged into a large, open clearing, coming to a rapid halt as she processed the horrific monstrosities surrounding her.

A large ancient rune carved into the rocky ground, circular in shape, emanated the crimson glow she had seen from down the tunnel. A thin fog dissipated into the air from its glowing lines. Strewn about the perimeter of the clearing were various items such as urns, opened books, and dagger-like shards of rock, some stained a deep red color. It was then that the overwhelming, heavy metallic stench of blood filled her nostrils, causing her to gag and quickly bring a hand to her face in an attempt to block out the putrid smell. She felt as though her heart would explode as she returned her horrified gaze to the glowing rune. A rectangular altar with a few steps leading up to it sat in the middle of the rune, its surface completely drenched in blood, dried runoff dripping down its sides. Arlarue couldn’t breathe if she wanted to as her eyes landed on the sight of a lifeless body laying atop the blood-stained altar. A small body, like that of a little boy.

She approached with trembling hands.

There he was.

The naked, desecrated corpse of her little brother laid supine before her. His right wrist and ankles were bound to the altar with leather straps so tightly that they had cut into his skin, made evident by the trails of dried blood that had trickled from the restraints. His left arm was bluntly severed at the shoulder, nowhere to be found. The various lacerations and bruises scattered throughout his little body were nothing compared to what she next observed.

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In place of his genitals was nothing but bloody, ripped muscle and skin. His chest had been splayed open, ribs brutally cracked apart, his chest cavity exposed and sending the reeking stench of decay into the air. As Arlarue investigated further, peering into the five-year-old’s chest cavity with tears blurring her vision, she found that his heart was gone.

Her eyes then trailed up his body to his face. His head was turned to face her, and it seemed like he was looking right at her. His eyelids had been sliced off, his once beautiful, vibrant green eyes now wide open and dulled over, staring straight into his sister’s soul. His jaw hung open, as if forever stuck in a silent scream, blood having pooled from it and dripping down the cold altar.

The worst of it all was his head. His skull had been cut open, the top of his cranium placed haphazardly above his head like a lid to a container, and his once young, developing brain was nowhere to be found. The only thing within his exposed skull were strings of blood from where it was forcibly removed.

The only noise that Arlarue could manage to make was a quiet, choked whimper as she backed away from the altar. Her breath trembled as she stared with tear-filled eyes before collapsing to the crimson ground beneath her, her lantern once more clanking on the cave floor as she dropped it. Just as quickly as she collapsed did her stomach churn, and her body convulsed uncontrollably as she vomited everything within her gut. She retched for nearly a minute before she could finally catch her breath. She wiped the residual from her mouth, hands trembling, doing everything in her power to slow her breathing.

Then she heard it again.

“Ruuue… Mom… Dad…!”

The voice was shrill and broken, as though something of nonhuman nature was trying to speak. Her breathing once more went still with pure terror. She could barely see through teary eyes, but she knew she had to look up to the source of the sound.

From behind the altar emerged a disgustingly long, gangly set of black, claw-like fingers, wrapping around the width of the altar’s surface. And in one swift motion, an eldritch creature revealed itself. The source of the mimics.

The ungodly creature had long, curled horns extending out from its ram-like skull. There was no flesh to the creature, only tattered, matted hair around its torso that disappeared down its spine. Its ribs were exposed, showing the absence of organs within them. Its horrifically long, thin limbs became visible as it emerged from the cover of the altar. Its dark, soulless eye sockets stared daggers right through Arlarue, who watched in utter horror, frozen in her vulnerable spot before it on the cold cave floor. Blood dripped from its large sharp canine teeth, and within its gaping maw was the missing left arm of her brother, which was only identifiable as an arm by what fingers remained on its small hand.

The eldritch beast stood terrifyingly tall on its hind legs, surely over twice the height of the young half-elf. It curled its claws around the corpse of her brother and widened its jaws, letting out a shrill shriek of ancient horrors, the familiar sound of her brother’s voice audible within its scream.

Arlarue was frozen in pure terror, eyes as wide as dinner plates and fixed on the horrific monster. Her heart pounded heavily within her chest as she watched the creature’s movement with shallow breaths, doing everything in her power to stay silent. It slowly turned its head and lifted its fleshless snout to the air, as if it were smelling out the location of its prey. It continued to curl its gangly claws around Saith’s tiny torso, the boy’s decaying flesh squelching as it was squeezed within the monster’s grip. As she watched in breathless horror, her mind raced with flurries of thoughts of how she could possibly escape this cursed cave. Why hasn’t it attacked me? Can it not see me? She thought to herself, continuing to analyze the behavior of the thing before her. Her head started to feel as though it were floating as she realized she wasn’t breathing, and she took in a low, yet audible, shaky breath.

The monster stopped its movement abruptly as its head snapped toward Arlarue, its grip on her deceased brother loosening rapidly. It was then that she realized she no longer had the option of staying put–the monstrosity in front of her knew exactly where she was now from just one low breath.

She scrambled backward a pace or so, turning to face the tunnel in which she came from and clawing her way onto her feet, her respirations now rapid and heavy once again. The beast shrieked again, its piercing cry ringing in her ears as it lunged from behind the altar and raced toward her in desperate hunger. Arlarue managed to scramble to her feet and begin to take off toward the sanctuary of the tunnel when the beast swiped its long claws at her legs, wrapping its wiry fingers around her calf and pulling her leg out from under her. She screamed in terror as she was pulled to the ground by the hand of the beast, and she clawed desperately at the ground as it dragged her back within its reach. She flipped herself onto her back to face the beast, its claws still wrapped around her right calf, digging into her skin and muscle as it tightened its grip.

The creature rapidly lowered its skull to her and sniffed the air deeply around her. She was mere inches away from the monster, quite literally staring death in the face. The rancid stench of decay and blood radiated from its jaws. She could see strings of blood and tendons strewn between its razor-sharp teeth. As it closed the space between them and widened its jaws menacingly, a cold, bloody string dangling from its lower maw slid across her cheek, leaving a bloodstain in its wake. Disgusted by the slimy texture of the blood across her face, she gritted her teeth and swung her free left hand up, gripping the skull of the creature in her fingers by its nasal cavity. Then with her right hand did she grip her father’s hunting knife, swiftly ripping it from its sheath and swinging its blade directly at the creature’s skull in a last-ditch effort to free herself from death’s hand. The knife hastily stabbed through the thin, fragile bone of the beast’s left eye socket, sending it reeling backward with another horrific shriek, freeing Arlarue. It writhed in pain a few paces away from her, repeatedly clawing at its own eye socket. This would be her only opportunity to flee, so she took it.

With no light to guide her through the darkness, for she had left her lantern behind, she used her night vision to the best of her ability as she raced back through the tunnel from which she came. She panted heavily as she bolted through the cave, occasionally tripping over uneven terrain, frantically searching for the exit. Alas she could make out the image of the rocky path she had initially descended into the cave from and she did not hesitate to begin scrambling her way up the incline. It was as she climbed that her right calf especially began to burn and ache, warm liquid running down her leg, but she had no time to dwell on it.

She could see the dim evening light of the forest peeking through the masked entrance to the cave just a few yards ahead of her. Drops of sweat rolling down her temples and her arms burning with fatigue, she emerged over the last incline of the cave and collapsed through the exit, that bone-chilling feeling of the magic within the illusion spreading across her body as she passed through it.

She crumpled to the forest floor, heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She looked down at her leg after a moment of recuperation to find a deep laceration extending horizontally around her calf, warm blood trickling steadily from the wound. She flung her backpack off her shoulder, using her hunting knife to slice off one of the shoulder straps. She wrapped the makeshift tourniquet around her lower thigh, grunting in pain through clenched teeth as she squeezed it tight around her flesh and knotted it, securing it in place. A second or so later, the steady flow of blood from the gash ceased.

The familiar neighing of her steed grabbed her attention. Cookie was right where she had left her, watching her owner with erect ears and wide, curious eyes. Arlarue groaned weakly as she lifted herself off the ground and made her way over to the horse, limping as her leg went numb from lack of circulation. She weakly loosened the reins from the branch they were attached to, tied her backpack to the saddlebag with its one remaining shoulder strap, and used all of her remaining strength to mount her steed. She grunted with exertion as she climbed into the saddle, breathing out in relief when she finally settled in the seat. Her heart still beat heavily within her chest so loud she could almost hear it, her breathing shaky and erratic as she stared emotionlessly back at the cave entrance. She sat in shock for a moment, feeling absolutely nothing but numbness, before snapping back to the present and realizing she needed to get back to Wispwater as soon as possible.

She weakly clicked her tongue twice, as per usual, and gave Cookie’s sides a feeble squeeze as they turned away from the cave and trotted briskly down the game trail. She urged her steed into a gallop as soon as they met the main trail of the woods, racing toward her home through the cool evening wind to deliver the horrific news, her tears flying from her cheeks as she fled.