XXXV.

Darkness

All of them were wracked with horror. Tirolith witnessed for hours a cruel symphony of her dying allies, tried repeatedly to save Faunia from her ultimate fate at the hands of Calamonis, Alisans, Etherians…

Ithlo'vatis watched in cold, stunned silence the torture administered to Liara — a torture that was more truthful than the other delusions, the realism and severity amplified by his all-knowing ability.

Cedric wandered the halls of Haketh. His steps were loud, deafeningly so. Every step shot pangs of anxiety and pain through his whole body — I'll be caught if I'm not quiet, damn it!

But he walked nonetheless. He walked and walked down the twisting corridors, until he thought his legs could take him no further.

A door marked an end to the hallway. A door labeled "Meitheio."

Library, he thought. Ithlo'vatis had shown him the way, and told him the word. He pushed open the small black door, so much less grandiose than the rest of the fortress.

He stepped out into a horrible warmth all across his body. The night air smelled of smoke. Burnt wood. Like campfires, but more severe.

And there was a hint of rot. A smell of metal, like blood. A smell of death. Burning bodies. Sulfur.

He recoiled for a door that was no longer there. He turned and scrambled — the trees were huge, stretching miles up into the sky, and each as wide as a castle's towers. He could barely see the stars through all of the black smoke.

A whistle called his attention. He already knew—

"Lorik, you've done good. Better than most candidates." said a gruff, slurred voice. Deep like a growl. Aggressive, like a feral animal. "So, then…"

A leg swept out underneath his own and dropped him to the dirt. His jaw bounced off the ground and cracked loudly.

"...Who are you loyal to?"

He muttered something.

"Who?"

"The Sylvet."

Two-hundred and fifty men had stormed Cylenia. They poured all across the woods, picked at the bodies, jabbed spears into the live ones. Two-hundred and fifty men destroyed the island in but a night, after only a month of careful planning, and after commandeering the few poor ferries that the peasants in Tyvel maintained for quick transport back and forth between their lands.

"Again, dog. You'll know your place."

He yelped out as something struck his back hard, cold and then burning hot.

His stamnered voice was that of a child's: "The — The Sylvet!"

"Good." He sounded like he was smiling.

What was I to do? I'm always up against the insurmountable. Always up against barbarians, cults, demons, gods…

Tears ran down the young Lorik's face as he thought of Rog, thought of Kogar, and thought of Rykaedi. His torture had only just begun.

Okella wandered a desert for a long time. She knew of the poison from lengthy talks with Throkos — Rubellum. An extract from the ruby flowers of southwest Aeonia. It'll torment me. It'll surface my worst memories until I break beneath them. And then he'll free me.

She knew the script. She knew his plan all along. If ever you're captured, I'll use the Rubellum gas on your captor. It will be difficult, but bear with it. I'll be there on the other side, to comfort you. To protect you.

So she walked. She knew she'd find him eventually, whether it was really him or an illusion in her hysterical mind. Her tears hadn't stopped since the delusion had begun — she was deathly afraid.

There was a city, soon, in the middle of the desert. A place that glistened and shone like a mirage in the beamed sunlight. But she wasn't sweating. She wasn't warm. The desert heat was absent. The sky was black, like Calamity had struck.

When she stepped onto the adobe tiles that made the road of the village, she could already hear the wailing all around. Calamity had started a ravenous wave of barbarism, of murder and theft and all the rest. She turned away as an older, fat woman screamed in her doorway. Her house was being raided. Raided by a man with blackened welts all over his dark skin.

Caine. He's spreading caine.

There he was: walking down the main road of the city was a man in black and green, covered in buckles and bandoliers filled with vials and potions and antidotes. Dreadlocks fell aimlessly from his head, like the corpses dangled from the trees around. A sickening sight. She gagged, though she thought it might have been the rancid, acrid reek that caused that.

"Okella." he hissed though his respirator. "Kogar has commanded Harth to be eradicated."

"It was only the ogres… wasn't it?" she whimpered.

"It's everything. Harth, Tyvel, Freiya'kara, Azar'kara, and Dreslon are the first marks. Then will be Cromer, the center of their bastard colony."

It's an illusion. It's an illusion. She steeled herself. And then,

Thwap!

Throkos was awed. Okella had slapped him right across the face.

"Cedric is an ally, Throkos. You are an ally. He was willing to leave you be, to give you a chance… but you can't return that favor?"

"I…"

"We're within your mind. Within your memory of Harth, of what you did there. It's horrible. But I will never deny you a second chance. You do not have to dwell within this life."

Throkos turned his back to her. "It's too late. The poison is waning. Soon, you'll be back in Haketh with me. We'll kill the boy off. Then we target Kogar — I know his secret."

"Then bring Cedric! He knows a lot, and he's had some success in fighting them! He can bring Kogar to a knee, we can bring him to a knee, if we all work together!"

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"I will collaborate with no ally of Rithi's. No ally of Thelani. And he was a friend — they were bonded. You know he granted me this curse — he took my life away."

Okella wiped her tears. She smiled slightly. "We can give it back." Her arms opened into a hug. "If you'll let us."

Throkos turned to her again. His shoulders slumped slightly. He shut his eyes. "I…"

"Come here, Falskar."

His own illusory nightmare had begun. Okella was no longer herself.

Her visage had been replaced with that of his own mother.

X

The cave was not immediately visible to those with natural eyes, nor those who couldn't see underwater. They came to the edge of the lake, which resembled almost a small swamp amidst the roots of the trees, the fallen leaves, and the vines which fell and swam like tendrils on the water's surface. The azar cleared the ground first, to make sure there'd be no ambush. Then went the sel, Kyvir's men and another group, and then the rest. Eight squads in total made up their company, though she still hadn't seen the one that represented the fae, if it existed at all.

It was then that the frey were finally called upon — gilled men and women with bluish gray skin and the natural ability to see beneath the water. They didn't wear as many clothes as Faunia would have preferred, but she supposed that clothes were no good underwater. A few of them worse algae or moss, but many of them seemed content to wear nothing at all.

They'd followed the river trail to keep up with the group until then, with plans to join the battle by invasion through the sewers. Only now did they walk upon the jungle land, and they looked petrified to do so. They were quick to leap into the lake once it'd been revealed between the thick of trees, and quicker yet to reemerge and tell their captains and lieutenants of the cave entrance they'd found, some fifty paces deep.

Kyvir rode to the muddy edge of the water upon his lizard, where he turned back to his selection of units and chose the few who would be heading down to the cave.

Unexpectedly, it was his own men and the twenty Orphans who he chose.

"Damn cats can't stand water. Same for those birds, mostly. Bird baths." Lezat grumbled and groaned as they sloshed in the sticky mud, all stripping down their armor so they wouldn't become waterlogged and trapped.

"Hope we'll find something good." Ana punched her fist into her open palm. Her body beneath her plainclothes was covered in bandages, likely from some particularly painful sparring sessions.

They all looked up to the other side of the water, where Kyvir dove in with a frey girl waiting to escort him to the tunnel. A few more men followed him in, all leaving their armor and clothes behind. The sel were unabashed to be stripped bare, while the Orphans made clear their desire to keep at least their undergarments worn.

"I'm going to regret this…" muttered Faunia.

Percy forced his voice to a squeak while keeping his eyes firmly locked to the lake, "If we do find an Etherian… how are we supposed to fight it without armor?"

But none had a good answer, except to rely on the sel and hope their steel would suffice.

Ana nudged him with her elbow. "Feeling a bit shy, Percy?"

He shifted away nervously. Eson was the only one who appeared comfortable, giving a huge stretch once he'd been stripped to his underwear. "Aaaahhh… What a relief in this heat!"

Lezat, by contrast, seemed most embarrassed by the way he covered himself with his hands, and plunged into the water with only a mutter of "Let's get this over with…"

And soon, after waiting for a few of the other soldiers to go, Faunia dropped into the water.

A frey girl surfaced to take her arm, and led her down. It wasn't long before they reached the cave outcropping, though Faunia had her eyes fiercely shut the whole time, and held her breath as tightly as she could.

The frey only needed to guide her for a few moments before they resurfaced, and she was allowed a deep breath. She wiped the water out of her eyes and blinked a few times. It was too dark to see.

"Alai." she cast, and a small bulb of silver magic sparked to life above her to illuminate the muddy cave.

The sel soldiers scowled at her from their shadows.

Because I'm not Alvaki. Right?

Lezat whistled. Eson and Faunia lifted their heads and crawled up the muddy mounds that reached his raised position upon the stones, past where the current of water continued to flow into a dull stream.

Lezat was breathless looking over the edge.

"Look at that!"

Faunia's mouth fell open. An entire realm caked in blue light lived below the pond, beyond the cave. An entire city spanned for miles and miles.

Eson stepped up beside her on the precipice.

"We're going down there, then?"

Lezat nodded.

"Expect Etherians. And expect Calamoni."

There was an air of discomfort among them all at the shocking sight. An underground city — it was a mystery how they hadn't discovered it sooner.

"And there are the Calamonis." Lezat pointed down the mountain. There were, indeed, men milling around in the same Calamoni armor they'd seen on the other soldiers they'd faced, and on the soldiers who had razed Dreslon in the early days of the Rejoining.

Eson lowered his brow. "Let's get us some of that armor. We could blend right in. Well, most of us. Ow!"

Lezat had slugged him on the shoulder, looking quite irate.

Kyvir planted his front foot up into the precipice and leaned over to peer at the city. "This cave is expansive," he said, "who knows how far the system reaches."

"Maybe all the way to Calamon…" muttered Eson, still rubbing his arm.

"Go, now." Kyvir hissed.

Faunia and Eson leapt out from behind a large boulder. Eson swung at head height. Faunia swung for a kneecap.

Down went two of the Calamonis, just like that. Eson swapped his sword around and took it by the blade. He swung the pommel down heavily into the exposed face of the soldier.

Krnch!

"Get yours, too. We don't know if there's another deadraiser here."

She hesitated. One of the sel let loose an arrow that pierced the man's eye and splattered blood onto her boot. "Semma delai."

She's useless, Faunia assumed he had said. No good.

Lezat marched over to the purple-skin. He sputtered, "Mekat semma dai do dan'ush!"

The soldier looked taken aback. He only muttered "Jianda," before hurrying back to Kyvir's side.

"What was that all about?" Faunia asked. "And where did you learn…"

"Alisel. Their language is a blend of the old sel tongue and the Alisan scripts. You pick up a word here and there…" Lezat waved her concern away.

Faunia couldn't help but smile slightly. Thank you, Lezat.

Kyvir whistled and patted his hilt. "You two, Eson and Faunia, you'll be our forward. Get in there and learn a thing or two about these people — us sel will be unable to blend in. The rest of our units will watch from afar, under the cover of dark."

Faunia said, "I can cast something to cloak you—"

He shook his head. "You've not sworn the Alvaki pact. That'd mean treason."

She narrowed her eyes. Even in the face of danger do we stick to our foolish codes and traditions.

She thought back to her southward travels with Cedric, when she had done much of the same. The Hunters' Code was never far from her mind, nor her lips, but… now, it seemed so insignificant. All that mattered was returning home — protecting her people.

Eson was already armoring up. Faunia fell into step alongside.

"Good." Kyvir said, once the armor had been worn. "That'll blend you. Follow the main road if there's one, see what heart beats at their center. And if it lives — kill it."

Eson fell into Hunter salute, but quickly corrected himself into a plain, flat-palmed salute over his forehead. "For Alisa."

Faunia did the same. "For Alisa."