The Empty Mirror

Chapter 29: Cursed Nightmare

The floor of the foundations is covered with a thick layer of moss and lichen, growing profusely between the cracks in the rock and the hollows of the twisted structures. The moss, a dark, unhealthy green, is dotted with black and purple patches that seem to move and writhe as if alive.

However, in contrast to this horrendous landscape, stairs are the only way to ascend to the gardens. The steps are made of polished white marble slabs, smooth to the touch and gleaming in the sunlight. Each step is meticulously carved with clean, elegant lines, creating a uniform and harmonious pattern that invites the traveller to ascend with grace and dignity. The staircase handrails are carved from solid white marble, adorned with intricate detailing that evokes the majesty of ancient architecture. Every detail is carefully crafted to complement the natural beauty of the white marble and provide a secure grip as you ascend the stairs.

In Hanging Gardens, the scene is plunged into a perpetual dusk, where the skies twist into shades of sickly purple, evoking the decaying viscera of a forgotten corpse. The sun's last gasps bleed into a rusty orange sea, resembling the sticky secretion of an infected wound, while the clouds, swollen and deformed, float like malignant tumours on an ocean of pus. The pools of stagnant water reflect an unfathomable and disgusting abyss, like mirrors that return the gaze of the ineffable.

In this perpetual dusk, the colours twist and contort in a macabre dance. Green corrupts into a putrid hue, akin to the vomit of a dying being, while blue fades into the darkness of madness, retreating like the cold, lifeless skin of a corpse submerged in the depths of a dark, pestilent lake. The distant screams of unknown creatures intertwine with the howling of the wind, creating a symphony of terror that pierces the soul and leaves an indelible mark on the sanity of those who dare to contemplate this grotesque travesty of beauty. Thus began my ascent to heaven.

Ascending the majestic marble steps of what were once the Hanging Gardens, one could see through the thinning veil of greyish mist that undermined the view. To reach the heights of these gardens, it was necessary to walk along several terraces before reaching the staircases that linked each of the individual gardens, thus erecting a single garden as a monument destined to astound mankind. However, in this setting, rather than a fantasy scenario, it resembled a nightmarish chimera.

After ascending for a few moments, the passage of which I cannot pinpoint due to my attention to my surroundings and the constant fear of being surprised by "Hunger on trial" as my mind wandered, I finally reached one of the projected terraces in the lower layer of Hanging Gardens. The marble surrounding the orchard was soaked in dried blood, a hue so intriguing that it was almost mistaken for the dark ink of a pen venturing to inscribe itself on a reverie filled with gastric juices spilled across the gardens. On the terrace, the marble pavement merged with the stairs, giving the impression that all the architecture of Hanging Gardens was chiselled out of the same material, as if it were still in the throes of its sculpture. Or at least, such was the impression that assailed me. There were some plants that quickly and satisfactorily surpassed my expectations.

In the most hidden recess of sanity, where shadows entwine their appendages and the air is permeated with the nauseating smell of decay, rests the "Cursed", so I have christened her, with guilty pleasure. It is a twisted creature, spawned in the dark bowels of nature.

The stems, stout and bulbous, stand like fingers contorted towards the zenith, each wrapped in a wretched epidermis, throbbing and writhing in perpetual agony. From them, razor-sharp blades sprout, distilling a white, viscous liquid that slides like tears of torment. Each leaf is impregnated with lethal spores, tiny messengers of despair that fill the air with a suffocating dust, a deadly mist capable of suffocating even the most intrepid of hearts.

The flowers of the "Cursed" are like livid wraiths, their wilted, tangled petals unfurling to reveal a core as dark as jet, a mouth of darkness that exhales a mist of doomed spores. These spores, like miniature demons, cling to any creature that dares approach, piercing their flesh and corrupting their spirit until they become submissive slaves to the "Cursed".

I drew from my attire a faithful ally, the white-bladed dagger of Ace of Wands, which seemed to have amalgamated with me, but I could not wield it until I had summoned the verve to slay once more. With my arm outstretched, forming an arc with my elbow, I kept a prudent distance between the "Cursed" and myself, with the dagger threatening such a creature. I progressed with slow steps, vigilant to prevent its spores from escaping and infiltrating my nostrils and internal cavities. Since these spores warned of its advance as those livid leaves unfurled, I approached and caught a glimpse of the plant's interior, as if it were the human body stripped of its bones.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The most horrifying thing about the "Cursed" lies within, where twisted and deformed organs resemble the entrails of a doomed monster, an affront to the anatomy of the human body. At the centre of its plant, adipose pouches lie encased in a slimy membrane, pulsing with a sickly throbbing. Within these pouches, pale, grotesque flesh writhes, as if it has a life of its own, begging to be released from its prison of flesh and bones.

The blue veins, like signs of nobility, contrast with the ridiculous humanity of the plant. With no escape, I approached, raising the knife above my head to reach inside. The creature was lush, reaching above my waist and requiring almost the entirety of my arm to penetrate it. Steadily, my sweaty hands gripped the knife, and I felt the blades resist as I pierced its flesh. Despite the shuddering of the plant, I continued without hesitation. After an exhausting effort, I stopped my hand, feeling the muscles groan with tension. I observed the knife covered with a translucent membrane, revealing an interior ready to be consumed. Yes, it was.

Suddenly, a soft voice, like that of a messenger, whispered: "Blessed of the Old Hunger, blessed". Undeterred, I pulled out the fatty, organ-like pouches, and with knife in hand, I opened the membrane completely. The pale white flesh, criss-crossed by blue veins, looked appetizing. Although in retrospect it might look disgusting, at the time I didn't care. Blessed or not, my mind was made up. I took a piece of meat in my hands and began to eat it greedily. Contrary to its appearance, its taste was not unpleasant, but rather similar to that of raw meat, with a subtle hint that did not linger on the palate. I devoured the entire fleshy pouch and proceeded with more. I ate and ate my fill, aware that the feeling of satisfaction would be short-lived due to the effects of wearing the "Hunger on trial" choker.

The plant, now crestfallen as a symbol of its impending death, stood as the only presumably living entity in the barren landscape of Hanging Gardens. All around it lay only withered stalks and contorted vegetation, neither suitable for sustenance nor posing any immediate threat. At this point, however, it was hard to classify them merely as "plants"; I preferred to label them as creatures. My newly christened "Cursed" stood as my main source of nourishment as I wandered through Hanging Gardens. I wiped the blade of my knife and continued my journey, with the blank steel as my guide.

The vastness of the terraces truly amazed me, for although I advanced at a leisurely pace, each terrace level seemed to stretch on indefinitely. It was not until I glimpsed the stairs that I realised the terrace was on the verge of collapse. I leapt to the surface and clung to the edge of the steps to reach the next platform.

There they were again, more of those creatures I fed on. Although they seemed to sway slightly, they were still essentially plants. However, the real danger lay not in their apparent immobility, but in the spores that could be lethal even inadvertently. Realising that this resembled a plantation of such "Cursed", I was not willing to take that risk.

Among the ruins, hidden on the terrace on the verge of collapse, I was compelled to resort to "Hunger on trial", as it was not possible for me to annihilate them by my own means. Extracting sustenance was a dire risk, given the plethora of spores and the inherent danger they carried with them. While I could not pinpoint the severity of the exposure, it was possibly not so lethal, but pernicious enough to leave anyone defenceless and exposed to other amorphous creatures.

With a calm mind, I directed Hunger on trial's actions towards the left tooth, devouring the entities, though I doubted if they possessed souls; surely, it would annihilate them, being the only vulnerable point on the choker, so a bite would be useless against its multitude, wasting a crucial ability in a futile manner. Then, the left tooth of the choker glowed slightly with darkened gold. Watching from my hiding place in the ruins, I witnessed the "Cursed" twist and wither, leaving behind only a pale liquid seeping through the cracks in the ground. It had taken effect and "Hunger on trial" had satiated their appetite, foreshadowing that I would soon be forced to feed again.

I ascended the stairs, clinging to them to reach the terrace, and continued my wanderings. I had quickly crossed two terraces and was filled with excitement, although I didn't know how many gardens I would have to cross, but I was not discouraged. To access the next terrace, I climbed more stairs and walkways until I reached a garden. More and more vines and slender, misshapen stems lay dying around it, and I gleefully spotted one such creature in the distance, a "Cursed". This one, however, seemed to be alone, as it had been the first time I had encountered one, so I conceived the intention of extracting its flesh.

I approached with determination, perceiving how this entity seemed more imposing and corpulent than the others, but without being able to gauge its size. Its figure, moreover, exhibited an even more pronounced and aberrant deformity. Nevertheless, with firm steps, I approached it until I was only a few metres away when I watched in horror as it began to contort itself. I halted my advance and watched in horror as those grizzled, fatty bags tore open, giving way to a grotesque insect-like creature, at least two metres in wingspan. Moreover, its corpulence was notorious. One would have thought that the membranous layer was nothing more than its placenta, and its pale flesh, the being itself.

I almost vomited as I witnessed how from that cursed being emerged a hunched insect of colossal dimensions, encompassing all the space around it. At close range, the entity seemed to exceed even my height. The insect, deep black and lacking visible eyes, seemed to detect my presence. Despite my efforts to suppress nausea at the sight of my macabre meal - I had devoured an insect foetus with a hairy, fatty proboscis - I was compelled to flee as I felt vomit rise in my throat, being swallowed by my own being.

I then took flight with no clear destination, aware that the entity was beginning to stand upright and spread pale, membranous wings. Faced with such a spectacle, I knew that it would soon catch up with me if I decided to take flight in pursuit of it. I stopped my escape and watched as the creature's fragile wings struggled to support its lumpy, misshapen body in the air.

Aware that I had no choice, I immediately determined to unleash "Hunger on trial". Mentally projecting the attack, I witnessed the insect creature being torn from top to torso by the bite, collapsing as its wings quivered and contorted after being mutilated. Though uneasy about resorting to "Hunger on trial" again, at least I was safe.

I didn't even bother to contemplate the creature's final form until I was paralysed when I spotted another identical insect coming towards me from between the terraces. From the lower part of the terraces, the insect flew heavily, leaving me almost immobilised as I watched its imposing figure. This time, it did not appear to be two metres tall; it was even bigger, a crescent at least four or even five metres in wingspan, approaching with its membranous wings and grotesque physical form, unleashing horror in my mind.