V

 

The three of us safely descended the crudely constructed rope ladder down into the mound. The rope creaked and the rungs bent under our weight but the ladder held fast. Upon reaching the hole's base that led deeper into the dank ruins we collectively noticed that something was off. Not only was the great gem in the center missing a colour - white -, and a noticeable crack appeared to have formed on one of its six sides overnight. Horace, Azarain and I also widened our eyes as we beheld the hitherto undisturbed, ancient entombments of the Ayleids of old.

Where there had been a gay crystal overgrowth just one day prior we now gazed into broken, hollow coffins that looked like very small, vitrified caverns themselves. It appeared as if something from the graves' inside had pushed against the solid stone of the sarcophagi, judging from the way the cracks and loosened bricks were formed and how the debris lay on the floor next to them. Moreover, peering into the small cavities that no doubt must have developed last night, we could observe how the glowy substance had seemingly 'infested' the brickwork.

Whatever foreign material this was, it became apparent that it did much more than merely coat the surfaces of its surrounding areas. This also explained what happened to my makeshift bedroll I have sewn together two nights before. It got assimilated, transformed into this alien matter. Our group agreed that this newly discovered effect it had on inanimate objects was highly concerning. The only thing that eased our minds was our assumption that it could not transmogrify living tissue. We were convinced the growth would come to a halt as soon as it struck the soil, a plant or another organism.

 

And yet, this did not tell us why the graves were empty. I inferred that after such a long time, even the last remnants of the Hidden Elves' bodies must have vanished. Besides, I added, there was no telling as to how many times Malada had been raided or how many necromancers have stolen the corpses for their twisted understandings of eternal servitude.

Both Horace and Azarain seemed content with this explanation. Notwithstanding that I was the one to propose such conclusions, I could not help but sense some deeper meaning behind this foreboding happenstance. As if my subconscious eagerly hid from me a most dissuading truth it already guessed at. Was all of this the product of mere coincidence? Or did something of more sinister quality initiate an oncoming disaster?

Paying no heed to my cogitations and the generally uncanny vibe those recent developments brought upon us we proceeded with our assigned tasks.

 

I was just on my way down the dimly lit hallway into the murky crypt when I noticed that the floor I was standing on had been completely overrun by the sparkling protrusions. The longer I stared at the ground surrounding my feet in its shiny grandeur, the more I imagined it writhing and shifting somewhat. I shrugged it off as a mirage I attributed to all the different refractions of the prismatic substance. Suddenly I heard an audible whack of something that just fell on the floor, accompanied by two shocked gasps. I turned around to face my discombobulated companions.

Peeking just behind them I fancied I saw some sort of geode jutting out of the luminescent crystal surface. I then realized in utter bafflement that in truth, Azarain had hacked into the adjacent wall using his pickaxe, causing a small, glassy boulder to tumble from it, revealing that, indeed, the entire masonry had been taken over by this otherworldly radiance. "What, by Shor's beard, is this stuff?" I heard Horace questioningly exclaim, breathless as he was at this unusual sight.

Donning our protective gloves we dared touch it for the first time. I grabbed a handful of versicolor shards, beholding their alien beauty.

Shockingly, my sense of touch unmistakably told me that the bits and pieces I just picked up started moving! I threw them away, unable to contain a high pitched shriek. My friends followed my example, sporting a most disgusted frown on their faces. Just what was all this? How did it work? And where did it come from, for what purpose? Even though we were filled with unprecedented repulsion at the premise of some alive, inorganic material, we knew we had to carry on. To uncover its secrets and solve its mysteries was our task and, by extension, find a way to put it to a halt. We began to ask ourselves: what if it didn't stop at organic matter? And if so, the implications were unthinkable!

 

Determined to finally shed some light on its obscurity, Horace and Azarain started collecting samples to give to Lili for further studies. I, on the other hand, made my way towards the brooding darkness in the bowels of this forgotten place.

 

VI

 

Saluting my two colleagues who were busy collecting samples and examining the utterly warped architecture, I followed the foetid, ages old stench into the ruins proper. The sparkly coating had at that point advanced somewhat into the corridor that led to the other chambers which I gathered the cloth in previously.

As dangerous as such ruins usually were, from my explorations I knew these first couple of chambers were safe from any traps. Little pieces of shiny rubble were sent flying through the stale air as I advanced further into this cold and humid mausoleum. I left the festering crystals behind soon.

 

I will bore you not with detailing the bulk of my delvings that day. Suffice it to say that I've slowly and carefully traversed many dimly lit hallways, corridors and chambers whereby I evaded innumerable cruel machinations, possessed by misintent. In one particular instance I was almost flung into a bottomless pit when the floor of one of the rooms suddenly gave way and I only just made it to the other side. Of course there was a path that did not tumble but to my misfortune I didn't cross that one.

This wasn't my first exploration of an Ayleid ruin, mind you. One must be aware of the immediate surroundings every step of the way. For ancient traps lie in wait, preying on negligent and unheeding adventurers. Even after all this time they still perform their duty with cold precision.

Make no mistake, I was quite seasoned in the practice of dungeoneering. But even so I was always intensely constricted when it came to burial sites such as these. There was always this lingering feeling. The awareness that the slightest lapse in concentration, the least bit of inadvertence, could spell injury - or death.

 

Soon enough, in the distance I espied a faintly illuminated, cyclopean quadrangular door at the far end of a narrow corridor. I realized that, the further I went, the darker it got. So with utmost caution but also perseverance, I approached this looming gate.

These narrow, finely cut ways were the most dangerous. Long, shadowy and nowhere to run in the event of a deadly mechanism going off. The walls to my left and right could be filled to the brim with foul invention. So I surveyed the area for any triggers, my heart pounding nervously in gruesome anticipation of impending doom. At any moment I expected to be surprised by a click that heralded untold agony. Just a few more steps.

While I was not worried two days ago for the adjacent chambers' inconspicuousness, I now was muscle-achingly tense crouching along this passage. As my brown robe slowly started to go damp, I at last reached the entryway that indubitably led me into the recesses of these antediluvian vaults. Mossy as it was in its stained crookedness, casting a pale teal radiance from its central light circle accentuated by a beauteous floral design. I had nowhere else to go. All other passageways turned out to be dead ends and I haven't found any clues yet. 

 

I felt relieved, the way back reassuringly much easier to traverse now. The path was safe. I inhaled deeply and even though the musty air that filled my lungs prompted a deterring nausea, I pressed on regardless. I had a mission to accomplish, after all. I gently placed my hand on the ancient stone gate, causing it to slide open with a lot of malodorous dust floating about. It revealed a downwards staircase leading into the darkness below. It appeared as if there was next to no light down there.

Hesitatingly I advanced. Alas, inattentive in my naïve impression of safety, I crossed the threshold, immediately sinking a couple of inches into the ground.

A pressure plate! My mind, flooded with panic and festering fear, raced as I turned around, anticipating a projectile to strike my chest or an axe to slice me in two. But worse. Despondently I beheld a rusty gate sealing the exit that I, now more than ever, craved. In despair I knelt before it, hammering against the cold metal. My shouts and pleas for help lost themselves in the maze-like caverns. I've been trapped among the dead.

 

VII

 

For a moment, I just sat there before the gate. The encroaching void seemingly devouring everything around me. Hope and courage were null, determination lost, the will to press on gone. I cannot remember how long I was unmoving. To me, time ceased to exist. Maybe it was a few seconds, several minutes, an hour perhaps? I don't know.Eventually however, I recovered from my feasting resignation.

I at once recalled that every Ayleid ruin had at least two exits and entrances, albeit one of them was normally inaccessible from the outside, cleverly hidden amongst the walls near ground level. With some difficulty and aching bones attributed to my prolonged kneeling, I pushed myself up with newfound determination. With an unsteady foothold I finally faced away from the sealed exit and turned around to inspect the tenebrous staircase. It without a doubt would carry me into the crypt's bowels and its cold, decomposing embrace.

Down the battered and partly broken steps I suspected to find more graves and sarcophagi, with little to no light. Maybe a hint as to what the strange stone from above might be. What I would find bends my mind to this day, however. I expected many things. Not, though, the horror I would soon encounter.

 

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, in and out, before my sense of duty along with my previously lost courage and determination really returned to me. After all I've been through I did not intend to die here, rotting. No, I had to press on. Further into the pits. I had no choice but to escape.

I opened my knapsack and from it produced a bottle of water with which I quenched my thirst. Most of my other provisions had also been eaten along the way. I was left with two magicka potions and one healing potion, as well as half a water bottle and one single grilled venison chop.

Now I was ready to venture forth into the unknown. I carefully descended the partly dilapidated steps into the yawning abyss. This location was afflicted with a foreboding silence. The only noises audible were my hollow footsteps and my tense breathing. As I trod the path into nothingness, I noticed that, curiously, the smallest bits of crystalline matter had gathered in the quaint fractals of the marbly floor. Though, their inherent luminescence was hardly enough to discern any definite shapes amidst the shade that reigned supreme here. I was much more plagued by the question: how did it come here?

 

I didn't fancy some gust blew it all the way here, so how did these little shards end up this deep into the ruins? Notwithstanding my recently raised doubts as to the safety of my endeavour, I recalled I failed to bring a torch. For lack of a better light source, I readied a fire spell in my left hand to cast radiance amidst the shadows.

And as the light gained purchase I saw there was a deathly contraption ahead of me, anticipating my advent. A huge log, outfitted with a metal plate up front, hung from the ceiling. It was connected to a tripwire at the base of the first set of stairs. Quite an unusual trap for the Ayleids but not too improbable.

Seems like I've lit my hand just in time not to get brutally obliterated. I clumsily leapt over the wire onto the platform that connected the two staircases in a half-circular room. This type of staircase is customary among Ayleid architecture.

 

I turned around, glancing into the depths. Down these last few stairs was nothing save for, again, small sprinkles of glowing shards on the ground. I fired a beam out of my hand in terrible anticipation. But the path was clear. I proceeded into the impenetrable mists. Only my fire spell shedding some light. Careful now, I thought.

Whatever this place contains, it hasn't seen light in ages. Who knows what I might find.

I wandered endlessly in blindness, only my small flame to keep me company. I had severe trouble knowing where I even was in relation to anything. I felt lost, cold and alone. It was an oppressive atmosphere and an aggrieving journey. Soon, gnawing hunger set in and I used up the last of my food and water. The foul odor in this malign entombment creeping up my nostrils with every breath, slowly killing my sense of smell. In my exhaustion I briefly collapsed to the floor, extinguishing the spell.

 

Now, darkness held dominion. In my despair I rested, catching my breath. Walking for so long was most arduous and I lost all sense of time. My aimless pilgrimage a testament to my foolishness. Then I felt a presence. It was very faint, but somewhere in my vicinity must have been... something. A noise. A pulsating anomaly reverberated in these dark, cavernous halls. My mind shattered. Something was here!

The blood quickened and cold sweat streamed down my face. I had difficulty keeping my breathing under control as to not make a sound. I was afraid. What I was scared of I could not tell for my vision betrayed me in this pestilential emptiness. An undulating gravitational pull seemed to pass me by slowly as the pulsating noise grew louder. Then it vanished into the distance.

 

What was that? I couldn't fathom the kind of monstrosity that would dwell in such a place, nor did I want to imagine it. Then, out of nowhere, a faint light at the far end of the prehensile shadows. A boon at last! A gate of heretofore unseen like between the darkened aqueducts and tunnels I traveled in so unwittingly before. Whatever that thing was, I suspected it wanted me to find this door.

I approached it swiftly, even for my weakened countenance. After all, I traversed this abyss for an immeasurable amount of time without incident so I might as well tread unheeding to my surroundings.

The door was extraordinarily constructed, twice as high as the usual entryway, with an illegible engraving on its arching top. It was sealed but something told me it has been opened not too long ago. Behind it I fancied I heard curious noises of slouching feet and nasty gurgling. I frowned in response. There were creatures down here after all.

I made some crude efforts to open it, hurling every spell I knew at its surface, hacking with my pickaxe, even shoving my steel dagger into its fractals trying to make it budge. It yielded no results, however.

 

Before long I concluded that this piece of rundown masonry must have been connected to some sort of mechanism that opens it from afar. Off to the side lay a singular archway leading into an unexplored chamber. Peering into it revealed that it was arguably small, maybe thirty meters squared. For some inexplicable reason, this room was also faintly lit as opposed to the surrounding vaults. I inspected the chamber carefully but found no traps, no vile contraptions to hamper my efforts. A welcome change.

I carefully entered upon which I saw a pillar and a lever. On the pillar stood menacingly a black soapstone of unknown origin. Finally, a first clue! I dislodged it from its mounting and stashed it into my knapsack to study it when I get back to the surface.

 

Then I carefully surveyed my vacant surroundings and pulled the lever after I've ascertained that no traps were present. It clicked and gears started to shift and move within the walls. In anticipation I was disappointingly met by a still sealed gate. Just what was I to do? An idea sparked in my head. The soapstone!

I produced it from my stash and tried to examine it. However, the light was much too dim to identify anything. So I set my hand ablaze yet again and was finally able to study it. The stone was of rectangular appearance, black as night, about the length of my forearm from one end to the other and about as thick. Its tips to either side were pyramidally cut. It was embellished with Ayleidoon runes that have been ornately carved into its neatly polished surface.

I squinted my eyes in an effort to attempt to read what has been written upon the relic. After a while, I finally deciphered the etched-in letters.

 

They read: "Morielle av Varlaise racuvar haelia cey vey Nir." This line translates to: "The ill beauty of the stars cast down terrible shadow to Nirn."

 

To my immediate regret I made the mistake of uttering the Ayleid phrase out loud. For a moment I forgot that in ancient words lies a primordial might, eager to be unleashed. Furthermore, the engravings hinted at something of utterly malicious purport. If this incantation was to be associated with the events that had transpired, I could only speculate that whatever came down from the heavens struck the earth with ruinous contempt.

Shortly after I spoke the words, the soapstone emitted a tenebrious shine, an anti-light that consumed even the brightness of my flame spell, leaving me with invariable emptiness. It shook violently in my hands until I lost grip of it. The relic now floated on its own, causing a solid void to gather around it. The sentient fumes flew into the nothing of the misty crypt, out of sight, leaving only the detestable stone behind. Then the brooding gate opened.

 

VIII

 

I was stupefied as to what I've just set in motion with this cruel invocation. And when my streak of improbable luck would dwindle, I would come to know just what I did. However, as the great door opened, I briefly wondered what the lever was for, then, if not to operate the gate.

The opening revealed a grand hall before me. As I've grown wont to, seeping blackness covered the majority of this space. In an attempt to light the room, I again readied the fire spell only to discover that, to my horror, it had been tainted! Instead of a flickering orange flame there now levitated in my palm a black smoke of radiating void. Whatever daemoniac magic the soapstone had set free, it permanently defiled my burning vengeance! It cast shadow and burned far more ardently than previously conceived.

Though, as soon as I used the spell, a cold sensation permeated my body and brain. Just as if it was sapping my bodily heat or life force. This kind of unconsecrated witchcraft is not meant for mortals such as you or I. A palpable fear pervaded my aching mind as I pictured the consequences that were to be speculated upon, considering this unhallowed magic exists.

 

Forwhy the user of it was required to be of drastically different nature. Moreover, this hinted at the existence of terrors hitherto unwitnessed and it dawned on me that I involuntarily might have granted them passage into our reality by means of accidental conjuration. At once I dispersed the black flame and instead let my fingers become engulfed by blissfully untainted electricity. I don't know any torch spells so luminous destruction magic was the only viable source of light I had at my disposal.

Thinking about it, I wondered why I didn't carry a torch in the first place. I came to the conclusion that all ruins I ever visited never were this clouded and hazy.

Indeed, I hypothesized that I might not even be situated in a normally accessible part of Malada. I supposed that the falling obelisk unearthed a set of meticulously hidden structures deep beneath the regular spaces. A place nobody has seen since the fall of the Ayleid empire. 

 

With crackling electricity in hand, I braced myself to explore the grand chamber at hand. I crossed the threshold and was surprised by an array of welkynd stones suddenly lighting themselves. Lining a now visible central path were twenty small columns to either side, about two meters in between each, mounted on which were welkynd stones that glistened faintly against the brooding atmosphere. At the far end of said path was a slightly taller pillar with a varla stone on top.

Through the now illuminated area, I noticed a salient mural on the wall to the left depicting the soapstone I had previously found. To the right was a bas-relief of a varla stone that loomed maliciously. Perhaps, I thought, I had to combine the two. Even though I had my doubts about partaking in even more unspeakable rituals, I still had to find a way out. And maybe this was the key.

I approached the white gleaming gem at the back of the vault. I knew of the prodigious value of one of these and was thereby tempted to unfasten it from its marbly seating. I stopped myself just in time when I noticed the various stone orifices in the ground to my feet. One wrong move and I would have been viciously impaled. I stepped back and pondered on what I could throw to dislodge it. Then I made a grievous mistake that could have been avoided had I paid attention.

 

Out of all the items I could have picked while groping around my backpack, I so damnably chose that detestable stone that threatened to defile my very soul. Yes, I intended to connect these two but I didn't know that I did not have to. Had I examined my surroundings a little better I would have noticed that there was a narrow passage off to the left side. But alas, I didn't.

And so in resentment I hurled the engraved relic towards the gem, making it plunge to the floor from its perch. Now I noticed another mural behind the pillar that held the varla stone, previously hidden from sight by the gem's luminescence.

It depicted said stone, circumjacent to which stood a group of shadowy, deformed figures. To my dismay I should soon witness what this image meant. The white gem floated into view and gradually darkened until it was as black as the soapstone itself. I didn't realize the momentousness of my actions until the gem started to spin softly in the air and I could hear a familiar noise of muffled gurgling. I swiftly grabbed the two items and stashed them away quickly. And out of the corner of my eye, I beheld a shambling terror.

 

IX

 

Out of nowhere appeared an entity. First, I heard its slouching steps curiously dragging on the ground. From an angle to my right a pallid, blue-purple radiance came into view, followed by a peculiarly disgusting retching. As the being came closer, my heart dropped and anxiety ruled over my emotions. In disbelief I looked at it.

A creature of curious origin revealed itself to me. A vile thing that was evidently an undead Ayleid guardsman or soldier, that much was certain. However, all over its decomposed body sprouted prismatic appendages, crystals and shards of various length and size jutting out of the creature's mummified flesh. The right half of its face had been consumed by the alien coating and its corresponding arm had completely vitrified from hand do elbow, replacing the dry tissue with a glowing lance of some proportion.

Its knee pads, elbows and joints were utterly infested with odious opalescence and from its chest, back and throat protruded lustrous spikes of portentous quality. Its one free eye shone queerly with a violet hue.

It is said that the abyss returned even the boldest gaze. In this case, it came in the form of a diabolical abomination, overtaken by the same weird substance Horace and Azarain had been working on.

 

The sight filled me with terrible figurations. If this material reanimated and blighted corpses in such a gruesome fashion, there is no telling as to what it might do to the living! As it crackingly turned its head, facing me, I fancied I spied a hint of inquisitiveness in its look. Even the dead could be surprised every now and then, as it seems. My presence here must have been unexpected. In truth, I would later come to know that I was not the one destined to open that gate and bewitch that accursed varla stone.

We exchanged fierce glances for what felt like an eternity. I was paralyzed, creeping anguish spreading among my nerves. I snapped out of it when the creature suddenly charged at me with detestable noises and black liquid seeping from its mouth. It attempted to impale me with its hideously malformed arm but missed only by a few inches. I responded with force, firing lightning and ice at the nameless horror. It got hit by one of my ice needles that was now stuck in its head, slowly melting away.

It answered by a shrieking howl. The monstrosity then hurled forth a volley of luminous shards that only barely failed to hit. In my despondence at a foe I was not prepared to fight, I grabbed my pickaxe and brutally rammed it into the creature's scalp, splitting the head. Numerous small crystals were sent flying from where a brain had once been. The cavity in the undead's skull revealed that the crystalline blight had completely taken over the host's body. This was no mere necromancy. This kind of black magic was something grander and much worse than anything I had heretofore encountered.

 

Unfazed by my strike, it shuffled forward, inching closer to me. In a last resort, I shot my recently defiled fire at it, feeling how it drained me of power. This appeared to hurt it greatly, though I couldn't fathom why. At least it worked. Soon however, I was too weakened from using this spell so I continued by producing the dagger from my portable stash while the undead was briefly stunned from my assault. I rushed forth, driving the blade deep into its throat, rending flesh, bone and gems. At last, the terrible hellspawn got beheaded and went limp.

 

I had severe trouble in catching my breath, having been utterly exhausted. Alas, in my foolish attempt to defend myself, I overlooked one crucial detail. If the presence of this thing explained why the sarcophagi from above had been broken from the inside it also meant that there must be at least ten, maybe twenty more hidden among the shadows. If I had this much trouble despatching only one of them, I thought, with how great a difficulty would I battle several of these?

I concluded that I had to flee right that instant but in this godforsaken place, my vision blurred from utter fatigue, I could not spy an exit.

It was too late.

The commotion prompted a number of these hellish entities to step out of the shadows. They had many different forms. While one had a crystalline set of claws for hands, another sported vitreous legs or appendages protruding from its head. Yet another was almost completely armored by this otherworldly substance. This was a fight I could not possibly win. I counted eight of them, each bent on tearing me to pieces. Their sick noises of gagging and crunching shards heralded imminent doom.

I tried running away from sharp projectiles being shot at me, evading several strikes and slashes. Sometimes I responded with my small collection of offensive spells, failing, though, to put down even one of them. In the feverish heat of battle, a small tunnel to the side became visible. I chugged one of my two remaining magicka potions before making some last efforts of defence.

 

Just before I could exit the chamber, a volley of fireballs and small meteorites lit up the exit. The spells connected with their intended targets, ravaging two of the horrors that pursued me. They could be felled after all. Horace and Azarain emerged from the murky mists, firing and casting spell after spell, rushing to my aid. Together, the three of us took on the six remaining adversaries. Horace, pickaxe in hand, beheaded another with surgical precision just before it had a chance to burrow its claws into my flesh. Panting from this fight I valiantly fought off one more close to me, averting a potentially fatal blow by deflecting its sharp arm with my dagger's blade just in time. I answered by shoving my knife's tip into its heart after which it expired.

My glance shifted to the right hand side. I observed Azarain pitted against three of these abominable lifeforms. He dodged expertly but was running out of breath. I drew attention by firing lighting at one of them. It turned and charged at me instead. It sprinted in my direction with malintent but was stopped in its tracks by Horace's terrible assault with his trusty tool, shattering its skull to glistening pieces.

 

In the meantime, Azarain had defeated one of his enemies by splitting it in half by a particularly gruesome spell we never knew he was capable of. It appeared to have weakened him greatly but there was no time to help him, since the last two monstrosities were fast approaching Horace and me. One of them wielded an ancient sword that had been fused with its body by the foreign substance, the other was almost completely overgrown - a mere touch would have meant injury.

The sword-wielding monster I took care of. I evaded its arguably crude swings with relative ease while closing in on my target, even though fatigue started setting in. Horace next to me fervently hacked into his enemy, shattering its armored hide, and the creature itself, to pieces. I on the other hand could stand my ground no longer and suffered a powerful blow that sent me down onto the naked floor with ringing ears. My body held fast however and in a last effort, I drove the dagger inside its chest and cooked it from the inside with burning electricity as it bowed over me to ready its blade for a finalizing strike. It fell to ashes, leaving only the weapon it was bound to and some shards behind.

 

Azarain however ran out of luck, his body succumbing to deathly strain that spelled his imminent demise. He failed to dodge the creature's last blow and got brutally eviscerated, a hugely gashing laceration stretching across his chest, tearing off his arm. Horace and I could only watch as the dismembered limb was flung into the darkness.

A cataract of blood poured out of his grievous injury, tainting both himself and the ground with thick, red liquid. The monster readied itself for a final blow. In a clear moment, with the last bit of my strength, I picked up the leftover sword from my recently slain enemy and rushed forth. I burrowed it deep inside the monster, slicing it from the waist up into two halves. It collapsed to the floor and so did I. I looked over to poor Azarain.

 

At first I thought there was nothing we could do when he sunk to the ground, screaming in interminable agony at the fiercely searing pain throbbing in his wounds. But I gasped as I discovered: he was still breathing!

 

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