CHAPTER FORTY

STAIRWAY TO HELL (PART III)

FLOOR SEVEN

Indistinguishable muffled noises cover the seventh room. Screams again or something else? Hard to say and impossible to ignore.

“Are they fighting?” Try asks, slightly annoyed.

“Who knows what these degenerates are up to. Always something, always vile,” Ulric adds, spitting on the floor.

“We’ve seen it all. What else is dere to look at?” Noname responds as the party stands behind another door.

“How long does this abomination go on for?” Shaphas asks, sighing as he puts his hand on the icy stone wall of the Black Tower.

“It looks as there is no end to this evil,” Ulric responds.

“Though some floors seem... somewhat enjoyable,” Noname says smirking.

“Treasure, food, drinks, sex... these things know how to entertain themselves. Don’t they?” Tyr adds.

Shaphas nods at the statement, not wanting to admit it out loud.

“Blind to what matters,” Melione blurts out, blankly staring.

“What?” Ulric asks turning to her; she remains motionless.

“Still, it is dangerous. We should not waste time,” Tyr adds, opening the door.

The opened door allows for a much clearer distinction of the previously muffled noise. These are not screams or battles. They are cries.

“Crying?” Shaphas asks in confusion.

The hallways lie filled with caged cells. Walking through, they quickly come to an understanding of what is happening. Traped children with white hair. Broken flesh with chains around their feet and arms, blindfolds around their eyes, they lie motionless as tears flow down. Cries in the night.

“What in Aion’s name is this?” Shaphas loudly blurts out at the outrageous sight.

“I don’t believe dis,” Noname adds, putting a hand over her mouth as her stomach grows sick of the scene.

“I remember,” Tyr and Melione say at the same time as the party looks at them.

“Remember?” Shaphas asks.

“Remember wat?” Noname asks; no response.

“What is the point of torturing children like this?” Shaphas asks.

“Torture? Isn’t this training?” Melione asks, looking at the party.

“Melione?” Ulric asks, approaching her.

“Wat are ya talking bout’? No one trains like dis,” Noname says.

“This is like my training with Ekateh,” Melione says grabbing the prison bars looking at a bound child.

“Training? Ekateh?” Ulric blurts out.

“You experienced the same?” Tyr asks looking at her. He remembers his cruel training... it was like this but not as cruel.

She also experienced this, Tyr thinks looking at her?

“What are ya two talking bout’?” Noname asks.

“When I was young...” Melione says stopping mid-sentence.

“Tyr?” Shaphas asks; Tyr remains silent.

“I had no idea,” Ulric silently says. watching; nothing else to do but remain silent. The awkward silence gives pause to the party as questions stop. Maybe it is better to leave some things unsaid?

They move through the path between the prison cells as fresh sights of cruelty and violence unravel before their eyes. Holes in the ground; some silent, others filled with crying; the intense smell coming from them makes their stomachs turn. Hanging cages from the roof filled with the same victims as everywhere else.

“We have to move. Now!” Tyr says, trying to not look.

“This isn’t right,” Shaphas adds holding his heart with his right hand and making a sign of a mirrored upside-down seven with his left.

“Just a little more and we are there,” Ulric says, rallying his courage.

“How do you know?” Tyr yells.

“Because it has to be,” Ulric responds.

Moving further ahead, they see the four white-haired mystics. Hard to say if they are male or female as their youthful and androgenous appearance hides it; their cold-dead eyes hide their humanity. If there is anything left.

The torture changes form and method, but the victims remain the same; lost innocence... not lost but taken. They hasten their movements until reaching the next stairway.

“Finally,” Ulric says, sighing with relief.

“Wait,” Tyr says turning to his party members.

“Wat?” Noname asks.

One, two, three, four... one is missing. Melione is not here.

“Melione!” Ulric blurts out.

“Wat?” Noname asks, looking around.

Cold sweat runs through their foreheads as they realize before turning back; more cold sweat runs down as they look and realize that their assumption is correct.

Back near the four mystics, Melione stands next to a dying, and shivering child. She puts her hands on the child’s forehead as the child falls asleep uttering his last words... thank you.

The mystics look at her.

“What did you do?” a mystic says in anger.

“Wait! She is not one of us,” another mystic says.

Their eyes lighten as the possessed eyes open in an alert. They open for blood.

“Who are you?” a mystic asks grabbing Melione by the neck; ignoring their presence, she looks at the other children as tears flow through her eyes.

Suddenly, a bolt flies hitting one mystic in the head.

“Intruders!” another mystic yells.

Ulric shoots three bolts at the mystic; there is no blood. The bolts lie stuck in the mystics' torso as though they hit cloth, not flesh and bone. Tyr plunges forwards with a flurry of blows slashing the same leaving only superficial cuts. Shaphas runs to another mystic, bashing her in the face with his mace; the mystic grabs the mace as she looks back at him with a bludgeoned face and a smile hidden in the blood. He tries to pull off the mace, but the grip is too strong. She raises her hand as Ulric appears, thrusting his sword in her chest, she creepily smiles grabbing his sword. The third mystic holding Melione by the neck squizzes tightly, making it hard for her to breathe. She does not struggle, only gazes in his eyes as looking through him.

“Are you in the darkness?” Melione asks, with a faint smile.

“Darkness? There is no darkness where there is Boreas. Die!” the mystic says as Melione’s body slowly freezes.

Tyr continues his exchange with the mystic relentlessly slashing; the mystic raises his hand, far away to hit the attacking warrior with the reach advantage of the blade. His instincts kick in as he reflexively dodges. Suddenly, the floor explodes in an invisible impact.

“What? Damn magic,” Tyr says, circling the mystic while keeping a distance.

The female mystic holding Shaphas’es mace and Ulric’s sword screams making them fly through the air and hitting the ground. She closes the distance. The surrounding air distorts with another scream as the two men scream in pain. Blood pouring from their eyes, nose, and ears. Frozen Melione falls to the ground, her body pale and blue; he walks to the others as she grabs him by the foot.

The mystic fighting Tyr attacks the air as Tyr quickly dodges; the same invisible impacts happen.

Noname appears behind the screaming female mystic as she rapidly stabs her in the back; the ambushed mystic screams sending Noname flying in the air. Shaphas and Ulric rise, weaponless, as they flank her and attack unarmed. The female mystic lets out screams that further distorts the air, making Ulric and Shaphas bleed. They hold the pain.

“Burn-man, moon-man,” Noname yells sliding a mace and a sword to them.

Holding the pain and enduring the blood, they pick the weapons as they attack her with all their might. Shaphas smashes her in the face again as Ulric stabs her in the chest; she grabs their weapons as she screams.

The two men fall to their knees, struggling to stay conscious. Noname rushes again with a frenzy of backstabs. The distortion in the air grows weaker as the Shaphas and Ulric rise and attack. Enduring an endless assault the female mystic falls and dies.

The shocked mystic looks at the hand that grabbed his leg. Melione looks up at him.

“Why do you not die?” the mystic asks as he goes to grab her; suddenly, he stops, releasing a scream of pain. Body shaking and bones breaking, he struggles to remain standing. His eyes turn red as blood flows from them, his breaths are hard and his feet heavy. He falls to the ground, body shaking; looking Melione straight in the eyes.

“Praise be Boreas,” the mystic says, dying with his eyes opened.

“I am death. I am death incarnate. Those who look at the eyes of death shall know eternal darkness,” Tyr chants as his movements become faster, sharper. He moves for the kill as the mystic attack with an invisible force. Tyr dodges once, twice, and three times before closing the distance. He slashes with relentless zeal as each strike digs deeper and deeper while avoiding his attacks; slashing the eyes of the mystic the now one-eyes mystic hits Tyr making him fly away. In the last second, he blocks with his sword. Tyr stands up, spitting out blood from his mouth.

The mystic looks at his dead brothers and sisters as he strolls back, staring at the party; they approach as suddenly they stop. Behind the mystic new ones appears. Five. No, another five appear. Quickly their numbers rise. They are coming.

“This is bad,” Tyr says, looking at them.

“Ya think?” Noname blurts out.

Melione walks towards them as Ulric grabs her by the shoulder.

“Let’s run,” Ulric says.

“Where?” Shaphas asks.

The mystics casually approach them.

“Run!” Ulric yells.

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“Lunch of worms! Lunch of worms!” Noname blurts out as her right eye twitches and her finger flips.

The party runs to the stairway as they run up with all haste; behind them, the mystics follow. Running up the stairs, the mystics are catching up. Almost there, almost caught.

They reach another door. It's locked.

“Wat now?” Noname yells.

"Open it, quickly," Tyr urges as Noname gets to work. The rest stay as they await the approaching foes.

“A chokepoint,” Tyr adds, as the party rises with weapons in hand.

“Will it matter?” Shaphas asks steadily, griping his mace.

“No,” Tyr says, laughing.

“Wat is funny?” Noname asks.

“I have no idea,” Tyr says; Noname, Ulric, and Shaphas look at the laughing Tyr as they join in on the laughter.

“It was a pleasure knowing all of you,” Shaphas says.

“So, this is how we die?” Ulric says smirking.

“So it is,” Ulric adds, laughing.

“Here da bastards come,” Noname says as the mystics appear in front of them.

“Let’s take some of them with us,” Ulric says.

“Aye,” the party says in unison as they scream one ultimate battle cry.

Noname quickly lockpicks the gate as steps behind them draw louder and louder. She opens it as the party, backs pressed and pushing to the door, falls inside.

The mystics are in front! They are here. Suddenly, they stop staring at them but not moving forward.

“What?” Shaphas, Ulric, Noname, and Tyr blurt out in unison.

FLOOR EIGHT

“Wat da actual crap?” Noname blurts out gazing at the unusual situation.

Dozens of mystics stand at the floors entrance not moving any further, only watching with red eyes exuding bloodlust. The battle-ready party observes them knowing how close they are to death, for if their enemies move only a single step they would surely be no match for such a force. Ulric slides one step as he stops, he moves another step being close to the white-haired mystics. Quickly, he closes the door as the party sighs in relief.

“I don’t understand. Why did they stop?” Shaphas asks what everyone is thinking.

“Maybe they are forbidden from entry?” Tyr adds, shrugging in confusion.

“Why? That makes no sense to stop when the enemy is so close,” Ulric says.

“Does anything in this place make much sense? You saw what was happening?” Tyr responds.

“Still... it is strange,” Ulric says, accepting the explanation.

“Who cares? Dey stop dintcha dey?” Noname says.

“What is this place?” Ulric asks, looking around.

The current floor is smaller than the others. It stands filled with paintings and books, perhaps a library? Tyr and Shaphas approach the middle where an enormous map of, what appears to be, the entire world lies on a table.

“What are these lands here?” Shaphas asks, looking at the map.

“There is Ferro, the Withering Lands up north... we have Hou to the west, Penelia to the east, and the Empire of Takesh to the south,” Tyr says pointing at the lands.

“I know that but the other 4 gigantic masses of land?” Shaphas adds, looking.

“I don’t know. Could this be the map of the entire world?” Tyr asks.

“How could it be? No one has explored so further away across the seas. Right?” Shaphas asks, thinking.

“To my knowledge but I cannot say,” Tyr says.

Noname sees a small shiny orb. Looking around if anyone can see her even in this uncalled situation as she steals it.

“I know her!” Melione blurts out, standing in front of a painting.

The party assembles at a large painting portraying 7 men and 6 women standing in a lifeless metallic room.

They look at the men and women on the picture; a full-armored man with a large sword, a smaller man with weird steel constructions sticking out of his body, a woman with long blond hair in a simple white dress, a man in a black cloak with long black hair, the half-half woman from the Pale Forest, another imposing man in a robe covered by pieces of armor holding a staff burning with blue flame, a pale white-haired man with pure white eyes without irises, a brown-haired woman holding a tome in a colorful dress, a bald man with a large necklace made of pure white pearls, two similar women one with crimson red hair and a thin blade, the other with shorter black-hair and a crown-like spear, another brutish large man with dirt all over his body and finally a mature woman with green hair and a confidant smile.

“This one! It is the woman from the forest!” Melione says pointing at the person in the painting.

“This looks like the statue we saw on the previous floor. It must be Boreas,” Tyr adds.

“How can it be?” Shaphas blurts out as his body quivers; he drops the mace on the ground.

“What is wrong?” Ulric asks, looking at the panicked man.

“This one looks like the spitting image of Aion,” Shaphas responds.

“Aion?” Tyr blurts out.

“How? We have... had a picture of the god, but they kept it in secret. Only the highest-ranking priests could see it,” Shaphas says.

“I’ve never seen such a clear painting. It looks as real as we do. How could someone make something like this?” Tyr asks.

“In da palace dere were many paintings but not real like dis,” Noname adds.

“What is the meaning of this?” Shaphas asks.

“Look! Dere are names here,” Noname adds pointing at the bottom of the picture.

On the bottom of the picture, they see some names; some worn out, hard to read but others clearer.

“From left to right, Marduk the Invincible, Lugh the Master Crafter, Ragana the Eternal, Arawan the Soulless, Janus the Dreamweaver...” Tyr reads as he gets cut off.

“That is the woman from the forest,” Melione says pointing at the half-half woman.

“You are saying she was the one that gave us those dreams?” Shaphas asks.

“Lugh!” Tyr blurts out.

“Wat ya screaming?” Noname asks as his loud yell surprised her.

“I remember. That name was written at the entrance of the ancient ruins,” Tyr says.

Ulric walks towards the picture.

“Aion the Purifier and next to him Boreas the Cold,” Ulric says continuing to read.

“Aion the Purifier,” Shaphas repeats as though his worst nightmare is realized. What it is or what does it all mean, he is not sure. Is his god a god or a lie?

“What does this mean?” Tyr asks.

“It means they are not gods,” Ulric says.

“Silence,” Shaphas yells, turning to him.

“Did I say something wrong?” Ulric asks with a smirk.

Shaphas does not respond.

“Wat are da others?” Noname asks in curiosity.

“Right. Morrigan the Keeper of Knowledge, Jizo the Transcendent, Ishtar the Bloodborn, Nanaya the Queen, Triglav the Earthbreaker and Hekate the Changer,” Tyr reads the rest of them.

“Hekate the Changer?” Melione says looking at the image of the mature tall, imposing woman.

“What is it?” Ulric adds.

“She is the one that trained me, the one that found me,” Melione says.

“One of them? What can this mean?” Ulric asks as panic appears on his face. If she was lead by someone does that mean the Moon... no, it cannot be, Ulric stops his thought. He gazes at the panicking and full-of-doubt Shaphas as he realizes that they may share more than he would want to.

Melione looks more and more at the picture of Hekate knowing full well that the image of Ekateh, a shriveled old woman, does not bear resemblance to the woman in the picture but she knows it to be her, she feels it.

Shaphas picks up a journal as he flips a random page and reads it.

“Lugh has left us. He went on a foolish escapade to create a home similar to our old one. In his own words, he has become... homesick. Is it even possible to replicate the greatness of our world in this filth? Foolish, but most of them are. They have lived out their lives with the species here for power or comfort, who can say? There is one thing the primitive people here are good for and that is nothing,” Shaphas reads as he flips to the first page.

“To keep from going crazy in this world I have started this journal. This is our 4th year here. We still cannot contact our home or repair our ship but I remain hopeful. The natives here are primitive but they have their limited uses as entertainment and a free labor force.

There were some issues with our appearance but Xel’ama Kuh-Sha has fixed that; it helps that we do not have to waste time in soiling our hands with the blood of lessers. Interestingly, she now goes by the name Hekate. This appears to be a newly developing custom. Few others have joined her in conforming our names to help the natives pronounce them. They called us monsters. Us? Learning their language is beneath most of us so... Morrigan (Science General Kul’ova Zin-Cha) has undertaken to teach these savages our tongue. For what possible reason I will never understand. End of report, Cryokeeper Kashon Tyrzinch,” Shaphas reads the first page.

“In this world? Ship? The natives here?” Tyr blurts out.

“Dis is madman writing, Noname adds.

“Why do you say?” Ulric asks.

“Dey say dey come to new world by ship. How could ship sail so far? Ya would die from starvation,” Noname says.

“That makes sense but they say they came from another world. Is it from those landmasses on the map? The unexplored ones?” Ulric asks.

“Wait! It is written they taught the primitives of this land their language,” Shaphas says.

“And?” Tyr asks.

“The language in these lands and others date back to almost a thousand years when the One Language was made to unify all the people,” Shaphas says.

“So what?” Tyr asks.

“Then how can I read this book?” Shaphas asks; the party scratches their heads as the answer eludes them or perhaps they want to elude it. If this is true then that would mean these “people” have lived for all that time and that is impossible.

“Maybe it is a joke?” Noname says.

“A joke?” Tyr asks.

“Ya know nothing bout funny books? So unedumacated,” Noname says with a proud smile.

“Read the last page,” Ulric says as Shaphas flips the pages.

“I am left alone. My once-comrades have either died... killed by their own or left me as they grew power-hungry being revered as gods. Gods of all things? I will never stop my attempt to return us home even if that means going against the will or the others. They will pay for the crimes of murder and I shall once again see the two stars rising back in my homeworld. I must...,” Shaphas reads.

“I don’t understand this,” Ulric says.

“We should move, this isn’t the time for this,” Tyr says.

Ulric looks at him and nods stripped of all confidence.

They move on to the last stairway as Shaphas takes the journal.