CHAPTER FORTY

STAIRWAY TO HELL (PART IV)

FLOOR NINE

The last steps of the Black Tower lie behind them. Their destination is here. Entering the top room, they are welcomed with a sight like no other. Weird metallic objects cover the entirety of the room. Pipes hanging from the walls emit cold steam, endless lights shine across the pristine steel as the starry sky above, weird noises intertwine with each other in this symphony of metal.

“In the name of Aion, what is this monstrosity?” Shaphas blurts out, shocked. His companions share his sentiment. Wide-open eyes and dropped jaws are the only words they can muster.

“Aion?” they hear a voice speak. Silent and menacing as if piercing through the air.

In front of them, a metallic chair turns around revealing a pale white-haired elderly man. Shriveled skin as if it has been sucked of all fluids. He sizes them up with lidless eyes. They can see weird metallic objects embedded into his skin sticking out from the torn black robes. The ancient man with a skeletal figure looks barely able to move yet there is a sort of dread hidden behind his lifeless visage. Dread and cold.

“Boreas!” Tyr yells as he raises his sword.

“Wolf! Wolf! Wolf!” Noname blurts out as her right eye twitches and her finger flips.

“I haven’t heard my friend’s name in a long time,” Boreas says, coughing violently.

“You say Aion is your friend?” Shaphas asks, almost insulted.

“He is... no... he was. Sadly, he died. Killed by the traitors,” Boreas says.

“Lies!” Shaphas yells.

“Ka-ka-ka you lowly primitive dare accuse me of lying to you. As if I would stoop so low,” Boreas says as his voice becomes inhumanly loud for a moment. Then in the next, it subsides.

“Isn’t this a surprise? I haven’t had guest’s here for dozens of years ka-ka-ka,” Boreas laughs.

“You are the one,” Melione says, making a step forward.

“The one and only Lord of the Withering Lands,” Boreas says with a smile.

“You are the one that killed my parents,” Melione says as suddenly her body shakes.

“Possibly but possibly not. I’ve killed many through years and I am not in the habit of remembering lesser life forms,” Boreas says.

“You will remember us for the Moon has brought us here to kill you,” Ulric says, readying his crossbow.

“The Moon?” Boreas blurts out as he laughs uncontrollably; the laughter is stopped by sudden coughs.

Ulric prepares to shoot Boreas as he squeezes the trigger, Boreas raises his hand and Ulric’s crossbow explodes; the piece of wood where he carved the name of his sister Everose splits in two.

“Everose!” Ulric screams, shaking and trying to piece together the broken parts.

They watch the ancient pale man not daring to move yet still ready to fight. Chains of fear bind them in front of the monster hiding behind an elderly man's visage.

“There is no reason to hurry. Tell me, assassins, who sent you? Indulge my curiosity,” Boreas asks.

The party remains silent, looking at each other. Not quite sure about the question posed to them.

“Do you even know or are you mere puppets? Well, it is easy to guess if we use the process of elimination. Removing the dead, it leaves us with a few options. Could it be Jizo? No, he is probably in some forsaken place trying to improve your species in hopes you would become... respectable. Ishtar or Nanaya could be the ones, but no you are far too pale to come from the southern lands. Though one of you fits that criteria, but you spoke of my dead friend Aion. That means it is Arawan or Hekate that sent you,” Boreas intones strolling left and right.

“Ekateh?” Melione blurts out.

“Ekateh? Yes! She must be the one, for she always enjoyed changing form and rearranging the letters of her self-given name. A terrible sense of humor. Ekateh, Kateh, Takeh and so on ka-ka-ka,” Boreas says, looking at them and laughing.

“Takeh?” Shaphas blurts out.

“What is it?” Tyr asks.

“There was an old man who called himself that he sent me on the journey to kill that creature and told me to head for Union after,” Shaphas says remembering.

“You knew they would attack Union, and you deliberately brought me there?” Tyr yells in anger.

“It was the will of... Aion,” Shaphas says with doubt. Aion? Is his entire life a lie, is there no path?

“You said the Moon brought you?” Boreas asks, looking at Ulric.

“The Moon commands me and Melione, for we are the...” Ulric speaks as he stops.

“You realized on your own. Impressive for such a lowly creature. So the three of you were manipulated by her,” Boreas adds, laughing and coughing.

Melione remembers the words from the woman in the Pale Forest.

Puppets covered by darkness.

“I can smell you. You are the one. The one that killed the villagers and my parents,” Melione says as a single tear flows through her eye.

“It appears I have not done such a thing even though I have killed countless of your kind,” Boreas says laughing.

“You said you do not remember all that you killed,” Shaphas interjects.

“It is true. Who would waste memory on the likes of you? But since I have concluded you are from the middle kingdom and since you are all young, I can conclude that it wasn’t me for I haven’t been there for almost two hundred years. Unless you are of that age it couldn’t have been me ka-ka-ka,” Boreas says strolling; cold air exudes from him as frost covers the room.

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“No,” Melione says grabbing her head.

“Did you realize it was probably the work of the one that sent you and the one that made you the way you are?” Boreas says.

“Enough! You are responsible for the demise of the Black Knights. They died from the Northmen ambush. The very same Northmen you control,” Tyr says.

“They also killed Harry,” Noname adds gripping her dagger.

“I control these Northmen as you say but I never gave orders for any war. I use them as a source of new humans, new playthings that you have seen on the floors below. Why would I care for your lowly business? The only thing I ordered was the attack on Union for I sensed a presence there but now I realize that it was a trap,” Boreas says looking at Noname.

“Is everything a lie?” Shaphas says.

“Wat now?” Noname asks, unsure what to do.

“Now, you die!” Boreas says as all his smiles and laughter vanish into a dead cold expression.

Boreas raises his hand, paralyzing the party on their feet; unable to move or blink, they stand defenseless.

“You are nothing more than weak puppets. Slaves to your nature. Trying and striving for something more, something unattainable. Always,” Boreas says as he coughs violently.

He walks a step toward them as the surrounding air slowly freezes; frost appears upon the steel contraptions around him.

“Tiresome. So tiresome. Fighting with and against each other until withering away as a flower plucked from the ground. Do you want to live? Can you live?” Boreas asks, making another step.

Melione blinks. The fingers on her left arm slightly twitch, her right arm shakes.

“Is there any meaning to it?” Boreas asks, approaching Melione and staring her in the eyes. She blinks again.

“What?” Boreas blurts out, noticing her slight movement.

Suddenly, she breaks free from the invisible prison as she struggles to move her hands upwards towards Boreas.

“Can you do it?” Boreas asks with a hopeful smile, almost cheering for her.

“Dead like bunnies in the fields, dead like bunnies in the fields,” Melione slowly sings as her hands ascend; Boreas watches them with expectation.

A little more, just a little... she puts her hands on him as the pale elder smiles. Blood pours from his nose. Translucent bright blood with a dim purple glow.

“Will it be enough?” Boreas asks as blood pours from his ears and mouth. He raises his hand as he gently puts it on Melione’s chest.

“Dead like bunnies in the fields, dead like bunnies in the fields...” Melione continues her weird songlike chant as tears pour from her eyes.

“I understand what you are. She has made a suitable tool for my death but too late... it is too late ka-ka-ka. The ones that came before you already sealed my fate. I am already dead. It is funny. If Hekate was only a little bit more patient I would have died. But now she created something that will be her own undoing,” Boreas says as he laughs.

Holding Boreas Melione screams and with her scream, the others free themselves from Boreas’s spell as they lunge at him.

“I am death. I am death incarnate. Those who look at the eyes of death shall know eternal darkness,” Ulric screams as he stabs Boreas in the chest. Ulric grabs a handful of bolts as he stabs Boreas with them. Shaphas circles around Boreas as he smashes him in the back; Boreas remains standing and smiling, almost unhinged. Noname appears next to Shaphas as she slits his throat with her dagger.

Boreas falls to the ground covered with his blood and its beautiful glow; he laughs as certain patches of his revealed flesh change to a grey inhuman skin.

“It took me so long to realize why I hate your species. So long... it took me to realize. Seek your real enemy and fight. I can finally rest,” Boreas says, panting. Ice slowly covering his body.

The party stands over the dying man looking at him unsure of what to feel.

“Why do you hate us?” Shaphas asks.

“You are... a mirror,” Boreas says closing his eyes with a smile on his face.

Melione falls unconscious to the ground.

“Melione!” Ulric screams grabing her mid fall.

Suddenly, they hear screams of pain.

“What is that?” Tyr yells turning around he sees dozens of mystics approaching.

“It appears our tale ends here,” Ulric says, standing up facing the incoming horde.

“So it seems,” Tyr adds.

Noname turns to them as her right eye twitches and her finger flips.

The mystics are upon them.

Then- the mystics fall to the ground weeping at the sight of their dead master. The party members look at each other with confusion.

They start slowly walking through the crying mystics; descending the Black Tower it meets them with the same sight. On the seventh floor, they free the imprisoned children, leading them downstairs. The army of once-powerful mystics are now reduced to nothing. Broken and shattered images follow their descent.

They say that going up the hill is harder than going down the hill, but not always... not now. They make it out as bright rays of sunlight hit their skin. Warming it.

Tyr looks for the gigantic armored being but cannot find it; he sighs in relief.

A sizeable group of Northmen riding Fenrir beasts appears in front of them.

Noname spits on the ground as she grips her dagger. They are too tired to do anything about it but might as well try. They raise their weapons in readiness if only for show, barely standing from exhaustion.

A hundred riders stop in front of them as their beast’s growl.

“Well, aren’t you all full of surprises,” they hear a woman’s voice. The other riders make way as she rides in front.

“Kopo Eno?” Tyr blurts out.

“The same,” Chieftain Kopo Eno says.

The party laughs as they drop their weapons.

END OF ACT III