In the dim light of the flaming pillar we stood motionless under a starless night sky. A world so isolated from existence that not even the very semblance of a universe surrounding it exists. The darkness stretched out from above and for the first time I had the lingering feeling that the sky touched the corrupted earth, tainted it with its vicious emptiness. The pressure was felt throughout the group. The pressure to survive, to make it through an interminable night. Shthelith's mood was glum. Helphis' sudden appearance was not foreseen and the amount of background information he could, and would, provide, quite willingly in fact, appeared to irk the elf in a noticeable way. So much so that he was left speechless in light of Helphis' revelations. Not in awe, but in… anger? It was difficult to analyse his emotional state, even for someone as seasoned in the art as myself.
In spite of the growing hostility, circumstances demanded we make do with the help we could get from Helphis. Our lives were on the line, now more than ever if Helphis' words and Shthelith's assessments held any truth. A tribe of invisible people stalked the night with the intent to slaughter, an angry goddess stole the daylight and there were still the flesh mounds we needed to pass by in order to get back to the city gates. And there was no telling what would await us inside. The giant pillar we felled led directly to the plain where we would find the mounds. Although we could not see them any longer, we knew that we had to traverse the broken structure that lay now conveniently on its side, tilted downwards. A quicker way off the top of the mountain, if somewhat risky.
We made up our minds quickly and without too many a word went down the slender path. The incline was rather steep and the surface relatively smooth, albeit battered in places. Not nearly enough though to enable safe passage. Our movement slowed down to a crawl as we crept along carefully in a straight line, one after the other, for the meagre width of the structure did not allow otherwise. I took point, behind me Nephethys and behind her Helphis. Shthelith went last, presumably to keep his eyes on Helphis for lack of trust. There were no objections to this however, as a potent blood mage of his finesse made for a good defence should anything come up from behind.
The way down was nerve-wracking. Even for me and I had a good trick up my sleeve should I slip. What I dreaded most was any of the others slipping instead as I feared I might fail to catch anyone in time should they fall. Step after step we inched forward. Our legs began to tense up after a while and soon we had to stop on the narrow bridge every so often to release tension and take a breath. But even so, stopping and not moving was just as hard as pressing on as we had to draw the strength to stand firmly from within our backs. My heart pounded and sweat was building up on my forehead and upper body. I could not allow myself to just wipe it away because I might lose balance so the salty drops ran into my eyes, past the eyebrows. The burn lowered visibility even further and I blinked heavily to relieve the pain - to no avail.
In a way, this smallest of journeys was perhaps the most strenuous thus far but any other way would have meant swimming through the sea to the forest. That would have surely been our demise. Nephethys struggled the most as she didn't really have any feet to give her the necessary stability. Halfway through she resorted to walk on her hands instead and hoped that the upside-down vision would not impair her movement too much. We didn't realise we were close to the end before my legs gave in and I collapsed under the intense stress. Time slowed for a moment as I felt my foot sliding away, off to the side, off the narrow walkway, and I plummeted into the darkness below. I wasn't quick enough to have my flexible hand grab onto the ledge above. I reacted in time to redirect my efforts downward and halt my fall just before I would have landed. Of course my companions didn't know I was still alive.
I could hear their screams and pleas, yet couldn't understand their words. I stood up, ready to call out with everything I had, when I heard a faint thud from above. Panic struck. A scream from above came closer. I almost forgot that my hand could change form. But I remembered when a faintly visible silhouette appeared in the sky. I cursed very loudly. "Shit!" I heard myself screaming. My hand molded itself, widened and broadened its surface area just enough to catch my Nephethys in time. "Got you", I managed to cough up. My hand folded inward, drawing her closer to me and just like that, my lips touched hers and a feeling of deep relief spread from my chest outward into every fibre of my body. A few tears rolled down my face. Tears of complicated emotions I dare not dwell on. But there she was, alive.
"Thank the Divines, you're alive".
"I thought you were dead. And then my strength left my body. I couldn't hold on anymore. I don't know what it was, I just… couldn't."
Affectionate looks were exchanged, a gentle stroke of the hairline signified genuine care. And then it struck me.
"Quick! We must call out so the others know we're fine lest they lose hope and fall as well!".
Or kill each other.
We called out as strongly as we could manage. We received a response and knew that both were still hanging on tight. We agreed that the two of them would continue down the path. Meanwhile, Nephethys and I were to meet them at the end of the walkway where the pillar touched the ground.
In the shadow of the far away flame pillar we walked in a straight line in hopes of finding the end of it soon. Sure enough, after just a few steps we found the spot where the needle burrowed into the earth. And a short while later, we saw two shadows creep towards us. As soon as the four of us were reunited, both Helphis and Shthelith knelt in exhaustion. We made it, at last. But respite would only last so long. I soon thought I saw movement in the darkness.
—
"He who guideth us to safety holdeth within the capacity of unrelenting betrayal", Shthelith told me later. "He who is a child of the night doth possess power over those who dwelleth in the light. For it is the sun that lay extinguish'd at the edge of the flame. And thy naivete brought thee hither at death's door", he lectured me. He was right.
They came from the shadows, from the mounds. They were everywhere within mere moments of hesitation on our part. And just like them, Helphis was swallowed by the voids of latent space between landmarks. As soon as he was out of sight, we got ambushed. In seconds and by sheer number alone they separated the three of us and tried to assassinate each of our group. We were faced with an overwhelming force, outnumbered at the very least 20 to one. If not more. In the ensuing struggle for naked survival it was impossible to tell how many hands we had to sever from their respective wrists to free ourselves. The all-encompassing darkness added to the confusion. We could have slain 30. Or 50. Maybe even hundreds. We could barely see the violent silhouettes as they struck with deadly precision and could only just avoid lethal damage. They knew exactly when and where to strike.
We were freshly off the pillar, still exhausted from the ordeal. In the first seconds of the assault there was nothing anyone could do to save themselves. We were at the mercy of our killers. The first, and only one, to die was I. I wasn't even permitted to realise the severity of our situation when an obscene amount of hands grabbed me, immobilised me and one of them delivered a knife into my throat. In my dying moments I saw a scarily furious Shthelith who impaled his adversaries and rose like a god above the battlefield as he rained death upon our attackers with as many sharp projectiles as he could summon. And just as my lifeless corpse connected to the ground and my soul already slipped over to the abyss, I heard an angry "NOT THIS TIME!" screamed at the top of his lungs as he forcefully stuffed my liminal consciousness back into its body out of spite. My laceration was healed and I was called to arms to defend our mission.
The Nightfolk never expected me to get up again so I got the drop on them. With a sweeping slash of a freshly materialised claw of abundant size I cut the-Divines-know how many of them clean in half. Nephethys I could not see for her black skin and even blacker robes. Only her hair glistened every once in a while from the meagre light in between splatters of blood and gore. But worst of all was Shthelith. The beast, the deity of destruction. We beheld in awe and in terror as countless Nightfolk were torn apart by his fury. We witnessed a glimpse of his true might and were happy to have him on our side. The way in which he almost casually brought me back to life before I even died a proper death was almost frightening. For he knew how to slay legions with that same efficiency. A true warlock, traveling the path betwixt life and death, deciding their fate at the wave of his hand.
The assault was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Nephethys landed gracefully on her two legs. I stood up and slowly let my hand morph into its original shape. Shthelith gently floated down towards the ground.
But there was someone else. Amidst the chaos, Shthelith managed to pick up Helphis, holding him by the neck, seemingly supported by sheer fury. Helphis squirmed and gasped for air. He tried to wriggle himself out of Shtlelith's grasp - but in vain. No amount of kicking and punching could unfasten the blood elf's firm grip.
"Thou hast betray'd us. And in thy ignorance thou shalt bathe in thine own, unholy blood. Thy fate is seal'd."
An invisible force tore Helphis' skin asunder, his flesh cracked like a hollow eggshell. His screams quickly died off as his bones and organs realigned themselves on the outside of his body. The outer portion of his skin was now hidden, presenting instead his naked flesh to the outside. And like that, he fell apart, twitching before he died a disgraceful death, submerged in his own blood and entrails.
Shthelith looked at us, then gave the bloodsoaked battlefield a view before looking back at us. And he shrugged as if to say "What else was I to do?".
"We will talk about this once we know we're safe once more", I proclaimed to drive the situation forward. There was truly no time to be wasted. Some of the Nightfolk could have hidden during the battle to assault us later or pick each of us off, one by one. We were on high alert as we traveled along a winding path through the field of the mounds that would lead us back to the plains where we began our journey and, at length, to the city gates to hopefully free ourselves from this nightmare.
The rest of the way to the edge of the field of mounds was fairly uneventful, however. If there were any nightfolk still alive, they knew better than to try and contend with Shthelith and us. I was confident that, with him on our side, we could take on hundreds of them at a time. He was evidently worn out from the battle but he took the time to reassure us that most of his destructive power lay not within himself but rather within the enemy. He drew his strength from their blood as well as his own. And I thought: What if he had access to the crimson sea?
Before long, the plains were in sight. A familiar view twisted by foreign darkness that made it appear orders of magnitude more threatening. There was no greater danger than there used to be before. The large creature had been slain a long time ago, the ruins picked clean of blind ones. It was emptiness accentuated by an ill gust of wind that made the ruined structures whistle a song of pain and loss. But then, we felt a small quiver underneath our feet. A rumbling came from the sea. The flame pillar, dim as it was, gained luminosity. It became wider, inexplicably more potent in its heat and light. And for a moment, we stood in awe of the view. Only Shthelith let out a worried "Oh no".
A flash of light erupted from the divine flame at the end of the horizon. Blinding, searing. We had to cover our eyes to protect our sight. When the light ebbed somewhat, we dared gaze once more at it. All was in flames. The crimson sea burned, every patch of liquid flickered with fire. We noticed it stir as the sea began to boil. Foul clouds of burnt blood rose from the restless surface to envelop the sea in a dark red mist.
"The sea retracts", Shthelith noticed. Nephethys and I, too, observed the shore edges and saw that this ocean's volume was in fast decline. "This is bad", he added.
I was about to ask him how he came to this conclusion when the superficial disturbances increased in number and intensity. I was also suddenly reminded of the fact that an entire world lay dormant and drowned underneath the sea of blood. I observed with concern the first, twisted limbs emerge from it, grasping at the sick mists above.
-
Hands, claws, fins, tails, maws. Gradually, the hidden creatures of the world beneath the ocean surface made their way up to escape the boiling waters. I can't even describe half of them. Limbs like crooked twigs carried their bloated bodies to the shore. Slowly, but steadily, innumerable things surfaced and swam for the safety of dry land. And also, towards us. It was impossible to tell how hostile the new fauna would be, but from their looks, we determined that keeping a safe distance was probably for the best. The heaviest of them failed to pull themselves up the small shoreline that separated us from the sea, but the lighter and more nimble ones made it on land. Shthelith was right. This was bad. Half-decayed beasts of unnatural shape crept towards us as we made our way to the city gates. We knew that we were better off not trying to pick a fight with this army of undead (or were they still alive?) creatures. I dared not look at them if I could help it.
The things were blissfully slow, probably having been adapted to be submerged at all times, their bodies were unfit to dwell on land. As such, their admittedly slow creeping gave us ample time to put some considerable distance between them and us. We all but ran for Bendicia, which was still quite a ways off in the distance. If we could keep up the pace of our running, the ever encroaching horrors won't reach us for at least an hour or two, depending on just how nimble the most athletic of them would be. But from the sheer looks of it, we were able to make some good time to get the sealed gates to the city open and slip inside unharmed. However, the knowledge alone that what we've seen happening at our end of the shore would probably happen absolutely everywhere else in the Painted World gave me some profound anxiety. Moreover, I remembered the blood elf hamlet and the utter destruction it would soon have to face as I couldn't imagine every member of the sanguine parish be as skilled and proficient of a battle mage as Shthelith was. But maybe I was wrong and they could defend themselves if backed into a corner. However, my ransacking the village prior to our departure on our, what I then believed eternal, quest made its continued survival seem woefully unlikely.
Our travel towards the black city was fast. Shthelith, whose movement was aided by bursts of blood magic, moved the quickest by far, closely followed by the ever tireless Nephethys who, miraculously, seemed to always be able to draw strength from some place to keep going. I followed some ways behind, but even I was relatively quick on my feet, as the permanent alterations to my physique appeared to have emboldened the rest of my body in strength, endurance and resilience in kind. I might be forever changed, but I can't deny this changes' advantages. I felt that the bond between us three was stronger than ever. We had been through so much. Uncounted trials of faith and power have washed over us and we took them and cut down every obstacle that lay in our troubled path. I used the time it took us to arrive at the city gates to reminisce about what adventure we had been on. And how it started, what rabbit hole I fell into. The goal, us getting back to Tamriel, it was so close at hand that I felt a rush of ecstasy flow through my body. I was in better spirits than ever.
The closer we got to our destination, the further away the lingering threat of being consumed by a horde of unnameable creatures became. The eternal burden of danger lifted itself from my shoulders. And before long, the black, sealed gates came into view, looming large before our eyes. Impossibly large. The walls were much, much taller than I remembered. So the three of us stood there. Shthelith, Nephethys and I. And there was only one thing left to do.
From a hidden pouch in his half-tattered, besmeared robe, Shthelith produced the ancient scroll of the Ancient Word, recorded in the antediluvian tongue of the first Aímamer, sealed with three unbreakable bands of crimson fabric. Set inside each of them was a rather large, round indentation with a sigil on it. An emblem, meant to depict whatever seal was the right fit for the band.
From my coat, I conjured the first seal I could grab. The first of the three we had acquired. It was the seal of bone that we had taken from the undead king and his contemptible daughter in the castle past the crooked forest. Memories came rushing back as I touched it, felt its many creases and lines. I handed it over to Shthelith who inserted it into the first indentation on the scroll. With a loud noise, it clicked into place and where it sat, the band broke and fell to the ground with a quiet thud.
I reached inside a second time and felt for the next seal in line, realising I had the seal of flesh when my fingertips caressed its edges and lines. That one we took from the deepest, innermost caverns in the cove. I grabbed it myself, not knowing at the time if my persistence would even pay off in the end. I grabbed it against all odds and ran for my life as everything came crashing down upon me. This also I handed over, and with a somewhat swifter motion, Shthelith put it in its rightful place so that the seal and its attached band could join its cousin who was half-buried in the dead sands below our feet.
For the final time, I felt for the third and last seal. The seal of blood we had retrieved from the top of the mountain after a most brutal battle against a foe that I could not contend with. But for as little as I remembered from the fight, having been killed pretty much right away, I profoundly recall my ethereal experience thereafter, wishing to never have to brave this damnable plain of existence again. That, too, I gave to him, our trusted friend and companion, whose prowess in battle and acumen in the arcane arts of the land had saved me many times. And he solemnly inserted the seal into its indentation on the band that wrapped around the scroll. It came off as uncelebratory as the others did and joined its brethren in the dirt of the wasteland.
At long last, the consecrated text unravelled, shewing a paper as long as Shthelith was tall. With pounding hearts, full of anticipation, Nephethys and I gazed at him and without saying a word, he nodded knowingly and understood his task. Shthelith turned on his heel to face the gates, holding the scroll out in front of him. With one hand raised into the heavens as to invoke the power of a god, he read and recited every word that was written in a language too foreign for me to remember exactly to write it down myself. With each completed passage his voice grew louder by an almost imperceptible amount. With each verse recited, glyphs on the inhumanity sized doors began to light up. The statues that stood guard on either side came alive with a malign glow, completely under the control of the spell that the Ancient Word weaved.
Each of his words was carried forth with dark purpose, accompanied by very specific gestures and sub-audible utterances in precise intervals. At the end of it, once the last syllable had been pronounced and every verse recited with the correct intonation and motion, a great number of foreign glyphs covered the surfaces of the large doors and a thunderous noise announced the locking mechanism to have loosened. Slowly, almost religiously, the gates opened, revealing the dark city that lay behind them. A familiar vista stretched out before me, for this black city of moulding stone was none other than the place I had come upon in my ethereal travel in the realm of the dead! I was given no time to ponder on the meaning of this, for Shthelith beckoned us forth to step inside. First, he led Nephethys into the city. And while she waited on him to usher me inside as well, he instead turned, held out his palm, gleaming with red electricity, and said to me: "Not you".
To say that I was baffled beyond belief would be an understatement. I could not, would not believe it. Why did he not allow me entrance? Before either Nephethys or I could raise any questions, Shthelith's face twisted unnaturally and a wide grin shot across his face. So wide, so impishly sharp that his actual features were cut and cracked. And then his complexion melted and came off, dripping down to the ground. This flesh mask of his shewed beneath it a likeness I had almost forgotten, for our last meeting with this fiend seemed so long ago. But there he was, always in our midst, guiding us towards his goals. Lord Atebid stood towering before me. My first impulse was to lash out at him but he wasted no time to sever my altered hand from my body, effectively disarming me.
"That poor Shthelith", he said, "such a kind-hearted soul. Oh, thou must have met him in the little cave at thy arrival. After I subjected him to my powers and stole his likeness, waiting on the opportune time to happen upon ye". I remembered distantly the presence of the blind ones that would roam the plains. And the one that got torn to shreds by that scavenger. "But thanks to him, I was able to reach my goal after all." Nephethys behind him was getting herself ready to strike him down but his electric palm stopped her in her tracks and she fell to the ground, paralysed.
"Now, I'm not going to kill any of ye. I need her, for one. And thou… I have no need of personal involvement in that matter, as the creatures that encroacheth may take care of thee. Farewell, Thorus. Thou may'st perish knowing that thy services were of much use to me."
With these words, lacking any explanation as to his true motives, he stepped backwards into the city and the gates closed in front of me. I turned around. There I now was, doomed to watch my end approach as I bled from my wrist, not knowing which death would seize me first.
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