A way into the Witch Realm, Brekan thought as he opened the door to the Inquisition’s archive. He made his way to the registration desk and offered a warm greeting to the female trainee who was stationed there. When Brekan requested the keys to the archive, he could see a flicker of curiosity in the trainee's eyes.
"Do you want to prepare for the upcoming Witchstorm, sir?" the trainee asked, concern and intrigue in her voice.
Brekan nodded and said: “Yes. You could say that.”
The trainee handed him the keys and Brekan made his way through the long corridors. The air was dry and smelled like old parchment.
He finally arrived at the door with the plaque "Cultist History." He entered into a room that spanned multiple levels, with a central staircase leading down to a spacious square floor scattered with rows of chairs and tables. A massive crystal illuminated the room from the ceiling.
A rush of memories flooded Brekan's mind as he descended the steps, the sound of his boots echoing in the stillness. He remembered this place from his own days as an apprentice, when he had tirelessly studied the annals of cultist history.
It was in this very room that he had prepared for his final test, a grueling examination that determined his worthiness to become a fully fledged Inquisitor.
As he gazed upon the rows of meticulously organized file folders, tomes, and boxes filled with reports, Brekan's mind raced, trying to remember any snippet of information that could be a starting point to reveal the secrets of the Witch Realm and the Witch Queen.
However, his memories offered no consolation.
Brekan sighed. He knew that the actual answer he sought was probably not even within this archive, or someone would have already found it. Nonetheless, it was also important to familiarize himself with the past again. Maybe he had missed something in his studies or forgotten. Maybe he would even see old information in a new light with his recent experiences.
Brekan combed through volumes of historical records and accounts, poring over pages, desperate in search for any nugget of information about the Witch Queen or the Witch Realm..
But neither history books, reports, nor witness accounts bore a fruitful result. What troubled the Inquisitor the most was the suspicious absence of details regarding anything Witch related. As if her nature and identity had been purposefully shielded from getting out.
How can I defeat her, if I don’t know anything about her, Brekan thought.
All the records chronicled the battles fought by the guard, the Inquisition, and the Agents. They spoke of victories and defeats, but never delved into specifics about the battles with the Witches.
Brekan buried his face in his hands, realizing that the Inquisition might not even have the important records. "I bet the Agents have all the secret information," he concluded.
Does it really end here…
He rose and paced around the square, thinking. Any valuable information would have to be in the Agency headquarters. But only Agents would know where it was. "I could ask them," he thought, but then chuckled and shook his head. Of course they wouldn't just let some random Inquisitor snoop around their archives for something that was against their separation of power.
Suddenly, Brekan felt his body stop in front of one of the bookshelves. For a moment, it felt like someone was controlling his muscles. His gaze fell upon a small, weathered leather cover. Brekan reached out and grabbed it, taking it back to the table.
As he opened the book and started reading, his mind was transported back in time to the words of an old miner. The diary told about the discovery of remnants of a forgotten city that lay concealed beneath and between the foundations of Iskanda. The miner described a subterranean world bathed in an ethereal fluorescent glow.
Brekans heart started beating faster. This might be it! As he flipped more pages, he read about the wonder and awe of the miner who wanted to go back to it with an expedition of his miner buddies, looking for treasures.
The diary abruptly halted, the last entry interrupted mid sentence.
Brekan leaned back and closed his eyes. All the other reports always talked about how the Witches and their Beasts attacked out of nowhere, sometimes even bursting out of the ground. Everyone knew of the stories of the plateau which Iskanda was built on to be full of caves and tunnels. The Sun Rail even used some of that infrastructure. And most of it was closed off and sealed in the early years of the Sun Kingdom by the Agency. Never did Witch Storms emerge from the wide plains or the mountain paths.
Brekan leaned forward, his forehead resting on the edge of the table. His brows furrowed as he thought about the diary and its implications.
"The Agents know this, right?" he asked himself. "Why are they now looking into it? And have other random workers not stumbled upon the city? Iskanda itself was built on top of it, its pillars standing in the underground city. But there were not even stories or legends."
A voice startled Brekan. “What are you doing here?”
Brekan knew who it belonged to. He turned around in the chair and saw Joven standing behind him, arms crossed. His friend looked at him with a serious face.
“Joven,” Brekan said. “I might have a lead on how to stop the Witches before their attack.”
In the blink of an eye, Joven looked at the small book and then back to Brekan. "That's Agency business," he said.
Brekan was speechless for a moment. He couldn't understand how Joven didn't even want to entertain the thought of preventing another Witch Storm or even finding and killing the Witch Queen once and for all.
"Do you not care?" Brekan asked, unable to suppress the anger in his voice. "If we would find a way to even weaken the Witches and their forces, shouldn't we?"
Joven looked him long into the eyes. "Our duty is to fight against the Cultists," he said. "This is what we have been trained for. The Agents know how to best fight the Witches."
Brekan slammed the desk, his anger boiling over. "Our duty is to protect the innocent," he shouted. "I care about saving people! The Witches are going to attack, and if we don't do something, thousands will die!"
Joven's eyes widened in surprise at Brekan's outburst. He took a step back. "I know you're worried," he said, his voice calmer than Brekan's. "But you have to trust the Agents. They're the best we have."
"Why are you here?" Brekan asked, his voice tight with tension.
Joven opened his arms, revealing a pile of reports in his hands. "Doing my duty," he said, his voice calm and collected. He walked over to the shelf with the file cases from the current year and began to sort the reports into place.
Brekan watched him in silence, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that Joven was a good man, a loyal friend, and a dedicated Inquisitor. But he also knew that Joven was bound by the rules of the Codex, and that those rules might prevent him from doing what was truly necessary to stop the Witch Queen.
When Joven finished sorting the reports, he turned to Brekan and said, "Follow the Codex. Follow the rules and regulations of the Sun Kingdom."
Then he walked back to the stairs and disappeared from sight; only his footsteps stomping over the cold floor could be heard until they fell silent and the door to the archive closed.
Brekan sat there for a long moment, staring at the old diary. He knew that Joven was right. He should follow the Codex. He should follow the rules.
I am sworn to protect the citizens from harm. And this is exactly what I am going to do.
His mind raced with plans.
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Today might be the last day he would see Sari ever again. Brekan leaned against the elevator's rail, captivated by the breathtaking view. Perched on a rugged mountain face, the elevator granted him a panoramic view of the city bathed in golden sunlight. The harmonious cityscape unfolded below with majestic buildings and graceful Augo dancing in the sky. Everything seemed untouched by the impending storm.
The elevator came to a halt, and Brekan stepped onto a bustling platform. Unlike traditional train stations, this one had a network of canals instead of tracks. A grand glass dome illuminated the vibrant scene below.
Brekan watched the crowd as they boarded the boats, ready to embark on their journey through the gardens under the watchful eyes of the heroes of the past.
As he reached the colossal glass doors leading to the Garden of Heroes, he inhaled the sweet scent of blooming flowers.
Brekan watched the crowd as they boarded the boats, ready to embark on their journey through the gardens under the watchful eyes of the heroes of the past. He felt a lump in his throat as he thought about Sari. This was all she had ever wanted. To be one of the many muses working in the Garden of Heroes. And he might ruin this for her with the revelation he was about to tell her. At least for a time.
He inhaled deeply, trying to calm his nerves. He knew he had to do this. He had to tell Sari the truth.
As he reached the colossal glass doors leading to the Garden of Heroes, he inhaled the sweet scent of blooming flowers.
Stepping through the towering glass doors, Brekan was enveloped in the sound of singing birds and rustling leaves. A tranquil canal wound through the garden, with vibrant colors all around. He scanned the crowd, searching for Sari.
Brekan continued through the Garden of Heroes, his gaze flicking over the magnificent statues honoring the kingdom's valiant figures. He passed sculptures of heroes conquering foes, some fierce warriors locked in combat with mythical creatures, others as builders and farmers symbolizing their contributions to the kingdom's growth. Each statue radiated strength and duty.
Among them, one figure commanded attention: the immortal Sun King. Unlike the grandeur of others, his depiction was subdued. He was stooped, leaning on his sword, his hair veiling his face.
Just behind his statue, Brekan's eyes met Sari, surrounded by a group of young students. She was immersed in her role as a teacher, passionately sharing the story of Hero Eskar, the visionary creator of the Sun Rail. Her voice carried with an infectious enthusiasm.
When Sari spotted Brekan, her face lit up with a radiant smile. She swiftly wrapped up her lesson. With graceful steps, she approached Brekan, her eyes reflecting joy and curiosity.
"Can I have a moment of your time, Muse?" he asked.
Sari’s response was immediate and wholehearted: “Of course you can. Whenever you want.”
He smiled and led her into a quieter, less-traveled path of the garden.
The world around Brekan faded into a gentle hum. Cocooned in intimacy and woven in dappled sunlight and shadow, he consumed every little bit of this silent walk with Sari.
"As much as I enjoy this," Sari said, "you clearly came here today because you wanted to talk about something, right?"
At first Brekan’s heart sank a bit, but his resolve was set. No turning back. He took a deep breath and turned to face her. He met her gaze. "I am going to kill the Witch Queen."
Sari stopped and grabbed both of his hands.
Brekan saw her open her mouth multiple times, trying to say something different every time.
Then she finally said: “I have already said many things, many times in the past. And not once was I ever able to convince you of anything. I don’t want you to die, but whatever path you choose, I only see death at the end of each of them.”
Brekan remained silent, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that Sari was right. His plan was dangerous, but he was the only one who could stop the Witch Queen. Or at least the only one willing.
"I know you not as reckless, but as purposeful and resolute," Sari continued. "You wouldn't just say this without having a plan or a way to achieve your goal."
She gripped his hands tighter. "I wish you wouldn't feel the need to do this for me. But then I wouldn't have fallen in love with you."
Brekan pulled up one of her hands and kissed it. He looked into her eyes and saw the love and fear in them. "When I succeed," he said, "I am going to quit and marry you. And if you want to leave the Sun Kingdom, I will even do that. But I might be gone for a while until then."
They continued their walk, but their hands remained intertwined.
"So what exactly are you going to do?" Sari asked.
Brekan took a deep breath. "Have you ever asked yourself why the Agents, with all their resources, have been unable to permanently eliminate the Witch Queen?"
Sari shook her head. "Not until this moment," she said. "But it is true that it has been going on for very long."
"I think it is because the Witch Queen and her servants operate from the massive labyrinth tunnels and caves under Iskanda," Brekan said. "Including a forgotten city. A whole subterranean world, sealed off by the Agency."
They passed a pavilion with a group of finely clothed women eating cake and drinking tea. Sari and Brekan stopped to look at them for a moment, before continuing on their way.
"You think she is down there?" Sari asked.
Brekan nodded. "Her or her Witch Realm," he said. "Something is down there, but for some reason no one is looking. I found a journal including detailed descriptions of the mines that lead to that world."
Sari looked at him with a mixture of admiration and fear. "This is not the last time we are going to see each other," she said. It was made as a statement, not a question.
Brekan hesitated and decided not to answer.
He released her hands and felt a wave of sadness wash over him. He knew that he might not see her again for a long time, but he had to do this.
"I am going now," he said, his voice hoarse. "But I will return. And when I do, we can go wherever you want and do whatever you want. I will no longer be an Inquisitor."
Sari smiled radiantly, her eyes filled with love and understanding. She didn't say a word, but Brekan knew that she understood.
With a deep breath, Brekan turned and walked away. Each step he took was heavier than the last, and his surroundings seemed to blur before his eyes.
As he descended the elevator, he felt a part of his life coming to an end. The same feeling he had on the day Hanu became his godfather. The same day he became a fully fledged Inquisitor.
But this time, the feeling was different. It was not the end of an era, but the beginning of a new one. A journey into the unknown, with the fate of the Sun Kingdom hanging in the balance.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
But Brekan was not afraid. He had Sari's love to give him strength, and he knew that he had to succeed. With every fiber of his being, he vowed to emerge victorious against the encroaching shadows and to return to the arms of his beloved.
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Brekan's Augo gracefully touched down on the Air Field, its propellers coming to a gentle halt. He stepped out onto the familiar ground, the brisk air carrying a subtle chill. He looked around, his eyes lingering on the flower shop where he had encountered Nightjewel a few days ago.
The door chimed softly as Brekan entered, the gentle fragrance of flowers enveloping him in a delicate embrace. He scanned the shop, but Nightjewel was nowhere to be found. His thoughts lingered on their previous encounter, and he realized how peculiar it had been for a woman he had never met before to join him on that fateful day. Her enigmatic words echoed in his mind: “The first ones, perhaps. But not the following generations.”
Brekan approached the counter, his gaze falling upon the Avalis Flower, a poignant symbol of remembrance. He couldn't help but ponder the significance of its presence once again. Memories of Nightjewel's cryptic conversation resurfaced, leaving him with an unsettling curiosity about her true identity and the purpose behind her unexpected encounter with him.
He picked up the flower and examined it closely. Its delicate petals were a deep purple, and its center was a vibrant gold. He thought about Nightjewel's words about the first heroes and the subsequent generations.
He paid for the flower and tucked it into his pocket. Then he turned and left the shop, his thoughts still racing. He knew that the Graveyard of Heroes awaited him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Nightjewel's presence and her interest in his work as an Inquisitor were somehow intertwined with his destiny.
Leaving the flower shop, Brekan stepped outside into the world once more, his mind calmer than the situation and his decision demanded.
He continued his familiar journey along the winding path that led him through the hallowed grounds of the Graveyard of Heroes. Rows upon rows of graves stretched out before him, each one marking the final resting place of those who had made the ultimate sacrifice for the Sun Kingdom.
As Brekan passed by, he couldn't help but reflect on the lives that had been lost and the potential of what could have been if their destinies had taken a different course. A profound sense of melancholy washed over him as he gazed upon the names etched in stone, each one a testament to bravery and selflessness. He questioned whether these heroes' deaths could have been avoided, if there was a way to rewrite their tragic fates.
And yet, the answers eluded him, just as the Witch Queen eluded the Agents who had battled her time and time again, unable to deliver the decisive blow that would rid the realm of her malevolent presence.
Passing over the familiar bridge that connected the main path to the side valleys, Brekan's gaze shifted towards the tranquil resting place of his parents. He stopped short as he thought he glimpsed the figure of Nightjewel at the foot of the statue of Avelia.
Brekan arrived before the graves of his parents, his heart heavy with their absence. He knelt before the grave of his mother and father, the Avalis flower clasped tightly in his hand. With a tender touch, he placed the delicate blossom upon the cool stone, as if offering a symbol of remembrance and love.
The wind whispered softly through the surrounding valley, carrying his words to their resting place.
"Mother, Father," he began, his voice a mixture of reverence and single-mindedness. "I am proud of the sacrifices you made for the Sun Kingdom, for fighting to protect our home, our people. I hope you are proud of me too, for following in your footsteps, for carrying on the legacy of bravery and devotion."
Brekan paused, his gaze fixed on the weathered letters that bore their names. He spoke with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve, pouring his innermost thoughts into the space between them.
"But now, I am going to do something that may make you less proud of me," he continued, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I am going to take it upon myself to try and stop the Witch Storm. I can't bear the thought of more parents losing their lives, of children growing up without the love and guidance they deserve. I don't want to betray the Sun Kingdom; I just want to save everyone, to bring an end to the suffering."
Brekan's words hung in the air, his emotions laid bare before the silent presence of his parents. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging within him.
"But I don't know if it's the right thing to do," he whispered, his voice filled with longing and uncertainty. "Even if I were to succeed, I know the Agents will not be pleased with my interference. Perhaps I should simply marry Sari, retire from the Inquisition, and live a quiet life."
As the wind carried his words into the valley, Brekan fell silent, allowing the peaceful serenade of nature to envelop him.
"Yet, I have also decided that when I return, I will marry Sari," he declared, his voice firm with determination. "I will lay down the mantle of an Inquisitor and embrace a life of love and happiness. We will build a future together."
A bittersweet smile graced his lips. Beneath his optimism, he knew the risks that lay ahead. He might not even return.
"And if, by some cruel twist of fate, I do not return," he whispered, his voice laced with sadness and acceptance, "I will see you both soon. Our reunion will be in the realm beyond, where there is no pain, no fear. I will join you once more, and we shall be together again."
With a final glance at the stone that marked his parents' final resting place, Brekan rose to his feet. He carried their memory with him as he turned away from the grave, ready to face whatever that awaited him in the forbidden realm of the witches and their queen.
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Brekan soared through the early morning sky in his Augo, ready to leave the waking capital behind. Maybe even forever.
As the first light of day began to paint the horizon with hues of soft gold and pink, he felt a sting of guilt in his heart. He felt a sense of betrayal towards the Inquisition, particularly towards his dear friend Joven and his godfather Hanu. But his mind was made up. There was a sliver of chance to save everyone and end it for good and he wouldn’t let it slip through his fingers.
Descending with grace, Brekan landed the Augo at the foot of the Eastern Sunthorn mountains, on one of the oldest airfields in the city. It was the entrance to the Rakhon District, the oldest part of Iskanda.
Brekan left his Augo and turned around to look at it. His father had bought it before Brekan was even born. Its once vibrant paint had faded to a mottled, dusty gray, and rust had claimed small patches of its once gleaming exterior. The headlights now seemed like tired eyes, clouded with age. Another part of his old life was left behind.
Brekan made his way through the twisting and maze-like alleys of the district, which stood in stark contrast to the orderly street arrangement of the later construction.
His destination lay within the heart of the district, the Rakhon station, first of its kind.
Brekan glanced over his shoulder at the sun's first rays, which peeked shyly between the buildings. Then he took a deep breath and descended down the stairs into the underworld.
The big underground station plaza at the end, with rails to each side of it, was deserted. A few weary souls, night shift workers from nearby, stood waiting with tired expressions on their faces.
Brekan knew exactly where he wanted to go. He had been here before, as an Inquisitor. He navigated the plaza, his gaze fixed on a pathway tucked behind a sturdy metal gate, positioned at the end of a dormant railway track.
As he approached, the city guard stationed there appeared on the edge.
“I wish to pass,” Brekan said calmly. “Please open the gate.” He was fully aware of the privilege granted to him by his position.
With a nod of compliance, the guard reluctantly acted, allowing Brekan passage into the depths of the old Iskandian mines.
Brekan activated the orange light crystal and illuminated the path before him. Behind him, he heard the gate close with a loud clang.
As he ventured deeper into the underbelly of Iskanda, the air grew cooler and the sound of his steps became more muffled. He felt a mixture of anticipation and exhilaration, but no fear. Only a grip of caution.
The mines around him stood in eerie stillness, devoid of signs of human activity. No remains of old machinery or discarded debris cluttered the passages. The air, though stale, held a pristine quality with a faint trace of dust that danced in the absence of constant movement. Surprisingly, the support beams that lined the tunnels stood resolute.
Brekan's exploration of the tunnels led to no immediate discoveries or encounters. He understood that he was still relatively close to the surface, far from the hidden depths hinted at in the diary.
Whenever he came across a side tunnel descending deeper into the earth, he followed its path, knowing that by doing so he would only have to follow all the upward paths if he wanted to retrace his steps.
After a long span of time traversing the tunnels, encountering dead ends and finding new paths, Brekan’s persistence was rewarded. Before him, nestled within the stone floor, lay a sturdy metal door, set into the ground. Just like the miner described it.
Its age was evident, its surface rusty and scratched. Secured by a lock it bore the marks of countless years spending guarding whatever awaited below.
Its age was evident, its surface rusty and scratched. Secured by a lock, it bore the marks of countless years spent guarding whatever awaited below. Brekan withdrew a dagger from his belt and positioned it between the lock and metal bow. Testing the lock's resistance, he applied pressure. Sensing a vulnerability, he was relieved to not have to use a crystal grenade.
He seized a fist-sized rock from the ground, clutching it firmly in his hand. With a swift and precise strike, he brought the rock crashing against the backside of the dagger, leveraging force to pry open the lock. The sound of impact reverberated through the tunnel, filling its silence with echoes before dissipating into the unseen depths.
Brekan swung the metal lid open, revealing the entrance that awaited. The darkness below invited him, foreboding and alluring. With each breath the feeling grew stronger.
As Brekan stepped onto the metal rungs driven into the wall, murkiness engulfed him, obscuring the sight of what lay below. The rungs offered the only guidance.
The air that greeted him as he descended carried a weight of antiquity and a forgotten past. Step by step, Brekan continued his descent, his hands gripping with tightness fueled by caution. Each rung was tested, his fingers feeling for any signs of instability or decay. The silence that creeped around him from the depths amplified the sound of his own thoughts echoing through the cavernous expanse. The absence of external noise rendered his own breathing and heartbeat more pronounced, a steady rhythm guiding him further into the unknown.
As he climbed deeper the shaft opened into a vast cavern. The rungs continued their path along the wall, while the other sides around him disappeared into the darkness, indicating the presence of a larger subterranean chamber.
Brekan reached the cavern floor and surveyed his surroundings. His vision was limited, but he could discern the faint outline of an ancient road beneath his feet. It was worn and broken in places, bearing witness to the passage of time and the erosion of countless footsteps.
Brekan looked into the dark to both sides. The road led to two separate passages. He decided to follow the one that led downhill. Deeper.
As he pressed onward, the sight before him took shape: a massive stone gate emerged from the darkness. Intricate murals adorned its surface, though time had obscured much of the artwork. Some of the damage looked deliberate. Brekan strained his eyes to discern the details, catching glimpses of human warriors and weapons, fragments of a forgotten history frozen in stone. The higher his gaze wandered, however, the murals dissolved into obscurity of darkness.
Drawn to the center of the gate, Brekan found himself standing before the partially open gap, a passage just wide enough for two individuals to walk through side by side.
He peered through the aperture and caught sight of a dim light emanating from a second gate at the other end of the massive gatehouse. Brekan could feel it calling to him. A mysterious bewitchment that tugged at his curiosity.
With indomitable fascination gripping his very essence, he stepped through the gap, crossing the threshold into the gatehouse. The light cast delicate shadows upon the stone walls. He advanced, his senses heightened, each step echoing from the walls.
The light grew stronger, illuminating the ground before him. Brekan felt a tickling sensation running up and down his spine. Was this the entrance to the secret world of the Witches and their allies? He felt like the walls around him were contracting, coming closer and moving further apart as if they wanted to press him out into the light.
Brekan stood at the threshold of the second gate. He took a deep breath and stepped forward.
An inexplicable shudder and shaking trembled through Brekan's body as he passed through the gate. On the other side, he found himself in a vast cavern, its ceiling supported by towering pillars. A soft mystical glow suffused the surroundings, emanating from a mesmerizing forest of strange luminescent trees and colossal mushrooms. They grew in abundance, intertwining with the ruins of the ancient city, fusing natural beauty and haunting decay.
The air itself seemed alive with the fragrant scent of unfamiliar flora. Brekan could feel the warmth in the air, a stark contrast to the chill that had greeted him outside. The sheer vastness of the cavern stretched out before him, its boundaries obscured by the expanse of the forest. It seemed to go on endlessly, with the furthest reaches hidden in the depths of shadow.
Brekan stood in awe, taking in the surreal landscape. “This must be it”, he whispered. It was a realization with both excitement and nervousness.
He thought: Here I will either find victory, or death.