XXXII
Nephethys and I listened to Shthelith's story during our ascent. Out of the three of us, he appeared to have been the most lucky in terms of the place that he was ejected into, although I believed that I would have been better suited for the worm thing he had described - at least in my hemerite armour. Whereas Nephethys and I got dragged much, much deeper into the darkest recesses of the cove tunnel network, he was spat out into some side cave that was relatively close to the surface from the sound of it. However, if we hadn't been down there, we might still be missing the seal that lay hidden beneath the waves. Altogether I considered myself quite lucky to have survived even death. With Shthelith's help, of course, but I did.
"How did you do it? Thorus' resurrection?"
The elf chuckled at the question. "Twas a delicate balance betwixt the realms of my craft, blood magick, and the arts of necromancy, summoning spirits and other, more advanced factors. Very complicated and lengthy. Highly risky, too."
"But how does it even work? In our homeland, death means the soul in question wanders to a specific place and stays there. Some seriously powerful mages might invoke the spirit of someone who died. And mostly not even in physical form. But you… you pulled him out of the spirit realm somehow."
"And stuffed me into my nigh perfectly reconstructed body, no less", I added as I made a vague gesture all over my body.
"The craft is quite singular, to mend flesh and saturate it with the energy of a person's soul. Not many of my kind know it. Thou art required to merge all thy magickal wisdom together in order to grasp its profundity and grandeur. Mending what hath been maim'd is only the first step. Not losing time is the most important component in this, as the body's connexion to the spirit realm fadeth continuously. As for the flesh itself - the fresher the corse, the better the results. More decomposition meaneth more damage to reverse.
This is as much knowledge as I am willing to impart. Thou shalt not know every secret. Some consecrated processes require more learning than I am willing to teach."
"Because those rites are holy and we would dishonour your culture if we learned about it?"
"No. Because I don't possess the endurance to shew thee all that thou must know."
As unexpected of an answer this was, it was an honest one. Indeed, if there was truly that much to know I doubted I could have been bothered with learning all the intricacies of the craft. What I did know was that Shthelith definitely knew what he was doing. I had died and my body scalped and yet, there I stood, alive, body mostly intact. But then I got a queer feeling deep down and asked one more question just before we arrived at Hema's Peak proper.
"You said the procedure you performed on me was highly risky. What kind of risks were you referring to?"
Shthelith was put in somewhat of an uncomfortable position. I could tell from his unconscious eye movements that he thought hard about an answer that didn't sound completely awful.
"Thy corse could have risen to assault me or Nephethys. With or without thy soul in it. It could have caus'd thee interminable pain if my reconstruction had shewn any faults. Or thy sense of self, thy ghost, thy being could have been shatter'd during the transfer of the soul, resulting in madness or worse."
He failed. I received some further insight into my continued existence down the line, however. What was made abundantly clear to me then was that he had to have been incredibly skilled in his art to perform this flawless resurrection of mine.
After this bit of banter concluded, the peak that the mountaintop was named for emerged behind the serpentine pathways that threatened to disappear into a landslide with every step. Even the cold stone seemed to be bent on making our journey more difficult than it already was. Regardless, we came to the top without further complications and beheld in awe the magnificence of this unholy structure. I still knew what that supposed sun was that perpetually hung in the sky without ever setting. But for some reason I can't fathom, I could not bring myself to mention it to my companions.
I examined the ritual site and saw that, to my dismay, the lectern had been knocked over and the book thereupon must have landed inside the blood-filled basin. Thoroughly soaked and unreadable, it got carried away by the crimson current. I watched it flow down the mountain's edge and disappear.
"The seal must be here, right?", Nephethys asked herself as much as she asked us for any clues.
"I believe the basin holdeth it".
"It would make the most sense to hide it there. How do we drain it? Neither of us is strong enough to shatter it".
Our eyes fell upon the great, towering needle that pierced the sky, seemingly making it bleed. My knowledge of its true nature put pressure on my chest but some force prevented me from voicing my concerns. After all, we required the seal one way or another and there was no telling what a deep dive into the blood would do to whoever would attempt that.
"What if we destroyed the source of the blood influx, then?"
Nephethys pointed towards the needle.
"This could work", I acquiesced half involuntarily. I knew, of course, that destroying it would cause something to happen. I was unaware of what that something was, however.
Shthelith took a good look at it before trying to cut it in half with a well-placed spell. A futile effort, as his blood magic caused merely a stain upon the needle's surface.
"Stronger than I thought", he mumbled to himself. It was during the destruction of the needle at Hema's Peak that I first began to actually doubt Shthelith in his sincerity. He exhibited behaviour very alien from what I would have expected. For if he truly had no real knowledge of the needle, the history of the place and so many other things I wondered why it was that he always seemed so… knowing of particular details or just conscious of some nigh forgettable circumstances. The way in which he voiced his evaluation of his futile attempt at destruction, for instance, seemed almost expectant. As if he already knew what he was dealing with.
I kept these thoughts to myself for the time being. The stakes were too high for the risk of infighting. We were too close to our goal to let some mostly unfounded suspicions dilute the path to our freedom. But ever since that particular moment, something about him irked me.
In the meantime he had been trying several other combat techniques in order to damage the pillar, producing altogether sobering results. Evidently, blood magic wasn't going to work.
"Can we cut it traditionally, then?"
Nephethys stepped forth, almost lasciviously presenting her muscular legs and their dangerous alterations from the knees down.
Shthelith gave her some room to try and she dashed, jumped and used her blades like scissors to try and make a dent in the needle. She managed to make a few deep scratches in the alloy it was made of but nothing structurally threatening came of it. Now, it was my turn to come up with a solution to our problem.
I once more inspected the ritual site to look for a structural weakness that I might exploit. In my previous, rigorous search for answers, my keen eyes had been overlooking the obvious. For when I eyed the needle up and down once more, one flaw in its construction became apparent that I hadn't really thought of before.
The towering pillar that gently thinned into a needle the higher it stretched towards the heavens as well as the basin were made from an unknown alloy that we can not break. However, in order for the needle to achieve the height that it does, the architects placed it on a pedestal - and that pedestal was made of stone, which was absolutely breakable. The pedestal itself was about twice as high as the basin was, which makes almost 3 Imperials. Its height also meant that breaking it should earn some results in toppling the pillar. Once the grounding stability is lost it should tilt and fall like a felled tree.
I gathered what focus I had in my mind, given my most recent death experience, and shaped the flesh of my hand into a pointy rod. I rammed the javelin into the stone base of the pillar as hard as possible. As soon as it stuck, I instructed Nephethys to crash as hard into my hand as she could. And she did. In a single, pointed strike into the heart of the stone, several layers of it shattered. It was barely holding on to what structural soundness remained. As I retracted my shaped flesh from the stone, and my hand returned to normal, even the last supporting element that had kept it from breaking apart sooner had vanished. The already pulverised stone around the hole acted as grease for the shift of the stone layers. Finally, by the force of gravity, the pillar slid down, tilted and fell.
Shthelith's eyes widened as he gazed up into the sky. Even he did not predict what was about to happen. I witnessed a vermillion scar streak across the sky in the direction of the needle's fall. From it rained even more blood. But somehow, it appeared to be aflame! It connected to the ground and ran down the mountain whilst carving a path for itself. As it did, so did the needle finally fall and pierce the earth instead. The needle was excruciatingly long but if we could follow it we might have a more direct path down the mountain towards the mounds of flesh that Shthelith talked about before we set off on our journey.
The three of us gazed at the sky as it gradually reddened. A peculiar noise that came from behind the clouds had drawn our attention. And now, it beckoned us to bear witness. The sun in the sky, the face of the goddess, drew nearer, grew brighter, unbearably so. We shielded our eyes from the harsh light that came from the sun. Suddenly, it shrinked rapidly. The sun-faced goddess began to glow in a bright red and far off, a flaming pillar of crimson emerged somewhere in the world. And what we had known only as perpetual day, a world with a sun that never set, turned into deep, abyssal night. The sun vanished, leaving only a starless void above our heads. A darkness that seemed as if it was continuously getting closer to us the longer we looked up into the sky and the sheer, unabated nothing it was replaced with.
Shthelith looked at us and said:
"I loathe to tell ye but… our circumstances just worsened substantially".
XXXIII
As if by magic, the basin on Hema's Peak had run out of blood and inside it revealed the last missing seal. A gleaming, circular object greeted us as we peered inside. I transformed my flesh once more and was therefore able to reach out to it. As my long arm retracted, I realised that in spite of the oncoming peril, we now held all the pieces of the puzzle. The seals of bone, flesh and blood were ours and so was the ancient word. Our collection was finally complete. Now it was but a matter of getting back to Bendicia. And that was just the trouble.
Once more we looked to Shthelith for answers.
He sighed, a sign that he would let us in on yet another secret he never cared to mention before.
"The perpetual day ye cam'st to witness ever since your arrival in this world was the result of an elaborate ritual conducted by my very forefathers long, long ago. A ritual even I do not know the particulars of. Hence, I had, this time at least, no way of knowing what ramifications our actions would have."
He gazed at the night sky, devoid of anything but darkness.
"Even now I do not know what we just did. I…"
And then, he was abruptly cut off by a foreign, yet soft, voice.
"You unchained the sun goddess".
We collectively turned around to find the slender silhouette of a person standing not far from us. Shthelith instantly readied a spell in his hands.
"Be not afraid, elf. I come in peace. I am Helphis, former envoy of my people."
"Former?", Shthelith voiced suspiciously.
"Yes. During the forced exile of my people my unorthodox nature became apparent to my kin. My status as an outlier ultimately resulted in this exile. The very moment the sky blackened my tribe shunned and banished me to wander and, possibly, die at the hands of the goddess when the sun next rises."
This strange man's ramblings confused Nephethys and myself. And while I knew of the identity of the goddess, that's all I really understood.
When he stepped closer he seemed even stranger. His skin and hair were as black as the skies above our heads while his eyes invoked the appearance of liquid silver, with no discernible pupils, irises or eye whites. His remarkably handsome features were illuminated only by Shthelith's spell and the flaming blood tornado in the distance. A slight breeze set his white tunic in motion. Who was he?
Helphis turned to look directly at Nephethys and me.
"And who are these foreigners you are carrying along? Please, allow me to formerly introduce myself to you. I am Helphis, former member of the Yulheth tribe. The other races commonly refer to us as 'Nightfolk'."
"Nightfolk?" I blurted out.
"Dark creatures of the shadows, preying on the people of the day", Shthelith hissed.
"While this is true", Helphis countered, "I must pronounce that I have been banished from my people for a reason. I sympathise with the dayfolk and proposed a peaceful coexistence. A sentiment that got me punished, in the end. Your elf is right, however. My kin will not shy away from assault and murder. This is due to a conflict older than even the war between the three dayfolk races. A substantial part of those that remain to this day have all but forgotten about our existence. Any who are yet alive are in greater danger than ever before. This is why I sought you out."
Even the ever mistrusting Shthelith slowly lowered his guard. He remained tense notwithstanding. A state of agitation I had never seen him in. The sudden appearance of this new kind of race must have thrown him into conflict. Evidently, he was not expecting this.
"I can tell you more about the ritual. We nightfolk reach lifespans of hundreds of years, our matriarchs grow even older. I know things that your guide might not."
We assumed comfortable standing positions and listened to what Helphis had to say.
"During the early days of our world, four races dwelt in it - three above ground and one below. I will let you guess the identity of the latter. At first, nobody would mind us. But when our race was discovered by the elves, they preferred to settle for violence in believing us a threat. They formed a council with the other two races and with their combined xenophobia, sought to eradicate us. This bred contempt on our side as well and an enduring war ensued that would rage on every night for centuries. The dayfolk lay traps and ambushes until it was barely safe for my kind to walk outside. Our retaliation was brutal, however".
"During what my kind calls the 'Night of the Blood Sun', we concentrated what forces we had and overran the lands of the other races during a divine phenomenon that is known as the Blood Sun, where the goddess turns red with the blood of war and death, tainting the very light our adversaries were sure to be safe under. During this brief period, my kind were permitted to walk outside during the day. Needless to say, the slaughter that took place was as quick as it was merciless."
"This phenomenon would happen in regular intervals and was dreaded by all sun dwellers. 'The black men will come and devour our children', they cried out, amongst other things. Some very clever wizards of the three kingdoms would soon stumble upon an effective countermeasure to our combat advantage. For they would attempt to imprison the goddess and chain her to a single spot so that the sun may shine eternally. And in draining her blood they were able to prevent the Blood Sun from happening. This came with a price, however, and the lands on and around the mountain were flooded and, ultimately, submerged."
"Submerged?", I inquired further. I had a certain premonition towards the answer to my question.
"Yes. What is today unknown is a fact that my kind remembers bitterly. For what you must assume to be the entirety of the landmass that exists in this world, surrounded by the Crimson Sea, is but a fraction that remains, ever shrinking as it may be. In truth, everything you can see from up here is the top of a mountain."
To say that we were confused would be putting it lightly.
"So you mean to say that below the sea lies a landmass with sunken towns, valleys, forests and the like?", Nephethys asked. Neither she nor Shthelith and I could believe it.
"Yes.", Helphis replied. "The land that we're standing on right now is merely the top of what used to be recognised as the highest mountain. Below the sea's surface are a great many ruined structures. And countless corpses."
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