The map was torn. Shred to pieces. Unsalvageable. Whatever scraps were left floated down the pit like last season’s snow, disappearing into the darkness with a final flutter.
Yeva watched it all, hope gone from her like a suddenly snuffed candle. In the darkness there was only the sound of a soft, despairing whine before she grit her teeth against it. Her clenched fist shook against the worn stone of the corridor.
Stupid. She’d been so stupid. How could she have fallen to such arrogance? This wasn’t some...some hovel- overgrown and forgotten in the countryside. This was Amothua. No one had braved these halls in centuries- millennia even. It took all of two hours without incident to lull her into a false sense of security and now, she’d paid the price. Her reflexes may have saved her from the shifting stone, but her map had not been granted the same privilege.
Now she was alone. Lost in this leviathan of an ancient fortress where every dark corner hid countless unknowable terrors and every overgrown root looked like the hands of the dead- coming back to exact their revenge for her daring. Fear stilled her entire body.
Inhale. Exhale. Balance. Balance. It took a long moment to calm the maelstrom of emotions that battered at her being- threatened to upend her. There was a single point of focus, the darkest parts of her mind hissing at her, telling her how little it would take to simply...fall.
Then it would be over.
But she fought that tide, overcame it and shifted away from the edge of the pit. She knew better than most that simply resisting an urge was not enough. You had to remove it, and subsequently its influence, from your life. The faster she put this behind her, the easier it would be to drag its claws from her mind. After all, she had a goal and she would not rest until she saw it through. If she were to meet her end here it would not be of her own doing.
Standing, she surveyed the hallway. There had been no indication of a trap. Only the sense that something was wrong before the stonework underneath her feet simply moved. Still, there was no alternative but to keep moving forward. There was nothing she could do about her map, but her wits were still about her. She pulled at her bag, dipped her hand and pulled out some chalk the children at the last village had given her to draw with.
Silently, she thanked them. Sent a prayer their way. May their lives be filled with nothing but enduring, lasting joy.
A flick of her wrist and the wall was marked with a reddish, flaking arrow.
Slowly, she made her way down the rest of the hallway. She had no idea what to look for in terms of traps but even her inexperienced eyes could tell the splendor of this place when it had been in its prime.
Blood Gardens. It translated, according to the woman who had gifted her the map. The lair of an Ancient King gone mad. The walls were etched in such a story and Yeva followed the carvings, running a thin hand over them.
Panel upon panel- the beginning of His ascendance- a beautiful man with a crown of and cape of roses. Men and women kneeling at his feet in reverence.
Another, the same man with thorns choking his neck- bleeding from his eyes and ears. In his arms a small lump- the stone worn away long ago, but she could see the edges of a small face. A child. Beside him, a woman- her face numb and so silent that even the stone looked chilled.
Yeva shivered- continuing down, rounding the corner, her footsteps as light and silent as ever. There was a room now, grander than any she’d been in- but strangely empty. The previous rooms had broken stone tables and chairs- remnants of life from ages past.
But there was nothing here except a looming tryptic, rendered in more horrifying detail than any of the other images- The first, a funeral. The King and his queen, silent over a grave. Suddenly, a tree over it, blooming in...roses? She couldn’t tell. And then finally,The King- eating them one by one. His face was ravenous, beastly-
“Beautiful isn’t it?”
Yeva whipped around so quickly her neck cracked. Her breath lodged in her throat like a heavy weight. There was an old man- but he was too tall. Something was not right. He was a bent and decrepit figure- wholly wrong in a way that made every instinct scream at her to fleefleeflee- but where?
Unbidden, her mouth moved. “Yes. It-it is.” Her voice shook, some kind of unseen hand moving her to speak.
It blocked where she’d come from- but there was another entrance to the west. She’d have to make a run for it-
“There used to be such beauty here.” It said and Yeva’s ears buzzed. “But guests have dwindled and we have been so lonely. And Hungry.”
He -it- raised its head and Yeva quailed in fear. Eight eyes upon its monstrous face, slitted and yellowed with age. They sat unevenly on its flaking skin, each pupil a different shape. It raised a single hand and Yeva saw it had too many fingers, long and unnaturally knuckled.
“What’s your name, little one?” It said, mouth moving in awkward motions. It sounded like an animal, like several dogs mimicking noises. Suddenly the unknowable terrors in the dark were preferable to...to this thing.
“Y-yeva.” She answered, stepping back. Suddenly the air between them was thick- she could feel the taste of its desires. Greedy, unnatural and murderous in its intent. It malformed, bent backwards in unholy cracks and split. The robe it wore dropped to the floor and this time and Yeva swayed in place. It had sounded like multiple animals because it had been. They’d been clutching one another to form the facsimile of a man.
Now there were seven of them, bent in the shape of dogs with the form of man, hands as legs and forepaws, tongues lolling out of slack jaws as they beheld her with an alien hunger.
“We are so, so hungry, Yeva.” They said in unison, inching ever closer. “And you look so delicious.”
Yeva screamed and her voice echoed through the halls.
Yeva watched it all, hope gone from her like a suddenly snuffed candle. In the darkness there was only the sound of a soft, despairing whine before she grit her teeth against it. Her clenched fist shook against the worn stone of the corridor.
Stupid. She’d been so stupid. How could she have fallen to such arrogance? This wasn’t some...some hovel- overgrown and forgotten in the countryside. This was Amothua. No one had braved these halls in centuries- millennia even. It took all of two hours without incident to lull her into a false sense of security and now, she’d paid the price. Her reflexes may have saved her from the shifting stone, but her map had not been granted the same privilege.
Now she was alone. Lost in this leviathan of an ancient fortress where every dark corner hid countless unknowable terrors and every overgrown root looked like the hands of the dead- coming back to exact their revenge for her daring. Fear stilled her entire body.
Inhale. Exhale. Balance. Balance. It took a long moment to calm the maelstrom of emotions that battered at her being- threatened to upend her. There was a single point of focus, the darkest parts of her mind hissing at her, telling her how little it would take to simply...fall.
Then it would be over.
But she fought that tide, overcame it and shifted away from the edge of the pit. She knew better than most that simply resisting an urge was not enough. You had to remove it, and subsequently its influence, from your life. The faster she put this behind her, the easier it would be to drag its claws from her mind. After all, she had a goal and she would not rest until she saw it through. If she were to meet her end here it would not be of her own doing.
Standing, she surveyed the hallway. There had been no indication of a trap. Only the sense that something was wrong before the stonework underneath her feet simply moved. Still, there was no alternative but to keep moving forward. There was nothing she could do about her map, but her wits were still about her. She pulled at her bag, dipped her hand and pulled out some chalk the children at the last village had given her to draw with.
Silently, she thanked them. Sent a prayer their way. May their lives be filled with nothing but enduring, lasting joy.
A flick of her wrist and the wall was marked with a reddish, flaking arrow.
Slowly, she made her way down the rest of the hallway. She had no idea what to look for in terms of traps but even her inexperienced eyes could tell the splendor of this place when it had been in its prime.
Blood Gardens. It translated, according to the woman who had gifted her the map. The lair of an Ancient King gone mad. The walls were etched in such a story and Yeva followed the carvings, running a thin hand over them.
Panel upon panel- the beginning of His ascendance- a beautiful man with a crown of and cape of roses. Men and women kneeling at his feet in reverence.
Another, the same man with thorns choking his neck- bleeding from his eyes and ears. In his arms a small lump- the stone worn away long ago, but she could see the edges of a small face. A child. Beside him, a woman- her face numb and so silent that even the stone looked chilled.
Yeva shivered- continuing down, rounding the corner, her footsteps as light and silent as ever. There was a room now, grander than any she’d been in- but strangely empty. The previous rooms had broken stone tables and chairs- remnants of life from ages past.
But there was nothing here except a looming tryptic, rendered in more horrifying detail than any of the other images- The first, a funeral. The King and his queen, silent over a grave. Suddenly, a tree over it, blooming in...roses? She couldn’t tell. And then finally,The King- eating them one by one. His face was ravenous, beastly-
“Beautiful isn’t it?”
Yeva whipped around so quickly her neck cracked. Her breath lodged in her throat like a heavy weight. There was an old man- but he was too tall. Something was not right. He was a bent and decrepit figure- wholly wrong in a way that made every instinct scream at her to fleefleeflee- but where?
Unbidden, her mouth moved. “Yes. It-it is.” Her voice shook, some kind of unseen hand moving her to speak.
It blocked where she’d come from- but there was another entrance to the west. She’d have to make a run for it-
“There used to be such beauty here.” It said and Yeva’s ears buzzed. “But guests have dwindled and we have been so lonely. And Hungry.”
He -it- raised its head and Yeva quailed in fear. Eight eyes upon its monstrous face, slitted and yellowed with age. They sat unevenly on its flaking skin, each pupil a different shape. It raised a single hand and Yeva saw it had too many fingers, long and unnaturally knuckled.
“What’s your name, little one?” It said, mouth moving in awkward motions. It sounded like an animal, like several dogs mimicking noises. Suddenly the unknowable terrors in the dark were preferable to...to this thing.
“Y-yeva.” She answered, stepping back. Suddenly the air between them was thick- she could feel the taste of its desires. Greedy, unnatural and murderous in its intent. It malformed, bent backwards in unholy cracks and split. The robe it wore dropped to the floor and this time and Yeva swayed in place. It had sounded like multiple animals because it had been. They’d been clutching one another to form the facsimile of a man.
Now there were seven of them, bent in the shape of dogs with the form of man, hands as legs and forepaws, tongues lolling out of slack jaws as they beheld her with an alien hunger.
“We are so, so hungry, Yeva.” They said in unison, inching ever closer. “And you look so delicious.”
Yeva screamed and her voice echoed through the halls.
