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Chapter 43

Krotos’ talons echoed against the stone floor; his head held high but eyes wide with fear. The light that offered them sanctuary flickered, threatened by encroaching darkness that probed for weaknesses, eager to consume them whole. The gryphon spoke of the increasing cacophony of victims, his voice quivering with every step they took forward. Only the occasional grunt, growl, or howl punctuated the chilling silence, sending shivers down their spines.

Arcturus gripped his sword tightly, his senses on edge. With each shadowy shape that flickered in the darkness, he tensed, ready to strike at any moment. He yearned for Veledar's comforting presence, wishing they had brought the dragon along. Surely his fire and companionship would have been a formidable defense against the encroaching dread that sought to ensnare them.

As they emerged into a spacious chamber, bathed in the warm glow of mana lanterns, the true horror of their surroundings was revealed. Bodies of various races lay piled atop one another in a grotesque display, their limbs entangled in a macabre dance of death. Frozen expressions of terror adorned their faces, their clothing torn and soaked with blood, a grim testament to the horrors that had unfolded in this cursed place.

The gryphon's stomach churned as he beheld the gruesome scene before him, unable to muster the strength to take another step. The sight of the mutilated victims, their bodies torn and mangled, sent waves of nausea crashing over him, forcing him to double over and retch.

There should have been no surprise in Arcturus’ mind, having read Nigel’s notes on what he was capable of. He was brought back to the fort of which Emerald Lady had them visit, his blood running cold. Despite his trembling limbs and the revulsion clawing at his throat, he forced himself to ascend the blood-soaked steps, spurred on by Krotos's insistence that the source of the sounds lay ahead.

Upon reaching the summit, they were met with a scene no less horrifying. Piles of corpses encircled a colossal stone dais, each body a testament to unspeakable horrors. At the center of the ring, obsidian pods loomed ominously, their pristine surfaces adorned with intricate runes. Connected by a network of dark pipes, they emitted a low hum that filled the air with a palpable sense of unease. The mere sight of them made the paladin’s skin crawl.

His voice faltered, disbelief etched into every line of his face as his gaze swept over the grisly tableau before them, the dried rivulets of blood silent witnesses to untold agony. "What... madness is this?” His face drained of color, "No rack, no instruments of torment... What purpose does this serve?"

"Could it be... for demons?" Krotos's voice wavered, the remnants of his sickness still clinging to him.

Shandalar, despite the atmosphere, was a pillar of strength and calm. “This is what remains after you create a mana stone.”

It came like a knife to his flesh, snapping the paladin out of his horror. “That can’t be true.”

"Look around you, Captain," Shandalar replied solemnly. "I wish it weren't so."

"How... how is such a thing possible?" Arcturus’ senses reeled as he contemplated the implications, his mind racing to reconcile the atrocities before him with the technological marvels they had taken for granted. Energy crossbows, airships, even basic conveniences like fire and refrigeration – all borne from the suffering of the innocent? His hands shook as he envisioned the phantom cries of the sacrificed souls.

“You saw it with your own eyes. Nigel helped bring this gift to Lumara, a powerful item to lift them up from mediocrity to the powerhouse of the world. Tearing the souls from mortal bodies and compacting them into powerful stones. Ones that can bring such wonderous gifts, from amplifying magic, to healing the wounded, regulating the air, all at the cost of a single life. You can see why your rulers do not share such, grotesque details on how they’re created with the masses.”

“Because they know any good soul would turn away from it.” Krotos squawked, fluffing his wings.

“Now, instead of dwelling on the moral implications of this, I suggest we return to finding the source of the pounding.”

“How long have you known?” Arcturus made a fist, eyes steeled upon the calm mage. “Why keep it a secret?”

“Would you have believed me if I told you?” Her arms folded behind her back, “I was your enemy, such an outlandish claim would have been detrimental to my efforts.” Eyes traveled from the bodies to Arcturus again, “As you can see, observing with your own eyes is far stronger a point than I could ever make.”

“I…can see the logic in that.” Arcturus shook and held his pounding head, wondering how many souls he had sent to such a fate. “Still…I hard to believe anyone could look upon this and find worth.”

“Power is an alluring prospect, not to mention revenge.” Shandalar rested a hand on his armored shoulder, for a moment her demeanor softened, “I know that it’s hard to take in, I apologize.”

“How…how many.” Krotos’ ears pinned as he looked passed these pods into the darkness, catching shapes of more. “Perished do you think?”

“Thousands? Hundreds of thousands?” Arcturus could barely say the words, “Gods above, I spoke to them Shandalar, convinced them of our peace. I turned enemy into friend, only to find out what good I had done was villainy wearing a mask. Gods, I might as well have slaughtered them myself.”

“It is best not to dwell on things you could not have possibly known or changed.” Shandalar replied sternly, “Spiraling into an abyss of guilt will do us no good.”

How could he not? Arcturus nearly vomited again, was that the true goal of the king and Lumara? Just to burn surrounding people for their kingdom like logs upon a fire? He faced the pods, despite Shandalar’s warning, feeling the claws of thousands of souls upon his shoulders.

“Such is the creature that Nigel is.” Shandalar padded to his side, “Anything to wipe out my people, no matter the cost. That is why he must be stopped, it’s hard to believe that once he was noble and kind.”

“That doesn’t excuse this…barbarity.” He grits his teeth, a flame lightning within his chest, “I swear, that I will destroy whatever this monster has built. Even if it takes the rest of my days, I won’t cease until every wretched speck of his existence is wiped clean, burned away, till the souls he’s destroyed are brought justice.”

“A righteous crusade is what you speak of.” Her brow rose, “It could take numerous years, possibly impossible to uproot all the schemes and tendrils he’s sank across this continent and beyond. He has immortality on his side, you do not.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Arcturus eyed the corpses, then the pods, “I don’t think I have much choice.”

Krotos padded his way to one of the pods, pressing one of his ears to the contraption. For a moment his tail flicked with interest as he tried to figure out who was inside. Eyes widened with horror as he shot up in alarm, “Arcturus!” He shrieked, ears stitching themselves to his neck. “Gus is in here!”

Swift as his boots could carry him, the paladin closed the distance to the pod, his shield barely grazing the ground before he reached it. His heart pounded in his chest as he gazed inside.

Within the transparent confines, his worst nightmare unfolded before his eyes. Gus lay within, his lower half bound by leather, the metallic surface beneath him etched with sinister symbols. The guard's face was a portrait of terror, pale as bone and marred by bruises. How had he come to this place? Was he not meant to be safe with his loved ones?

“Gus!” Krotos squawked, as his talons pressed against the surface, “We’ll get you out of there, hold on!”

“Krotos! Arcturus.” The guard breathed a sigh of relief, “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Course I am, have you seen my feathers? Pristine and beautiful as ever.” Laughed the gryphon, eyes darting across the pod’s surface, “Gus if you want to thrust yourself into things and get stuck, you should have come to me, I’m much better than some spooky lich’s lair.”

He gave a weak laugh, “I’ll remember that next time.”

Their eyes met, the gravity of the moment not lost, “Gus…I’ll get you out of there…I promise.”

How were they going to get him out? Arcturus searched around, not finding any trace of any knob, slot, or rune that he recognized to open the container.

As Arcturus searched Krotos laughed nervously, clearly fighting back the overwhelming dread, “Did I tell you Gus, that you look rather sexy tied up like that? Makes me want to just show you what I can do- “

“Krotos, is now really the time?”

“I’m keeping his spirits up! So, he doesn’t focus on the fact he might be turned into one of those crystals! Let me cope!”

“Wait, what?” Gus shouted, tugging at his restraints. “That’s what these things do?”

“See, look what you’ve done! Now he’s panicking!”

Shandalar soon joined in the efforts, her inquisitive eyes tracing across the runes, muttering to herself as she worked. Had he seen a key? His thoughts raced over all the information he had gleamed at in the last hour, surely something of that could have been to this right?

“Shandalar, do you have a spell for this?” Arcturus said.

She was strolling to each pod now, an aura of concern about her calm demeanor. When he shouted to her again, she finally turned, “Each of these pods contains someone you know.” She gestured to each one in turn, “Matilda the gnome, Swiftbeak the gryphon; his rider Elizabeth.”

Matilda too? He rushed to her pod to verify what the elf had said, it was true. The gnome was just like Gus, a bit of relief washing over her face.

“Arcturus! I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but help a girl out would ya?” Matilda laughed meekly, “No rush of course!”

This was more than a coincidence. Every other pod was just as Shandalar had said. The paladin gulped, they’d targeted him and him alone, this was a trap. “Why are you here?”

“Clearly each of them was suspected of helping you. Our enemy has the means to get rid of them.” Shandalar rose her hands, fingers moving into position, “I do believe we have wandered into a trap, Krotos, Arcturus, we must make haste to get out of here.”

“Out of the question.” Arcturus shook his head, “We’re not leaving them here.”

“Of course we can, but shouting at them will not help. The longer we stay, the more danger we are in, captain, don’t give into this emotional ma”nipulation- “

“Then leave! We’re getting them out on our own. Krotos how is it coming along?” Arcturus snarled with more fierceness than he intended. When he raced to the gryphon at Gus’ pod, his ears were stitched.

“I’ve been looking, but I think it needs the runes. But without a way to read them, we could accidently kill him instead.”

“Please don’t do that!” Gus nervously laughed, “I very much don’t fancy dying.”

“Don’t worry, that won’t happen.” Cooed Krotos, resting a talon close to Gus’ face, “That’s a promise wingmate.”

“How about breaking them?” Arcturus asked.

Talons slammed and dragged against the glass with a screech yet there was no damage left in their wake. Krotos lashed his tail. “We’re going to need the dragon, or the bloody key. Shandalar do you really have nothing?”

The stone ignited with an eerie glow, casting rivers of crimson light that raced across the floor like molten lava. These spectral streams intertwined with every pod, crawling up their surfaces with a malevolent energy that seemed born of the infernal depths. The very air crackled with an ominous power, its soft whine growing into a crescendo of sinister resonance. Something was awakening with a purpose as dark as the abyss itself.

A chasm formed in the paladin’s belly, “Don’t tell me that’s what I imagine it is.”

“I believe it certainly could.” Shandalar swiftly removed herself from the pod’s ring, her hair battered by a pulse of intense wind, “Remove yourself you two before it activates, and you’re torn asunder!”

“Go, get out here!” Gus wailed as Krotos slammed his talons against the glass. “You too Arcturus, get out of here before all of us die.”

“I’m not leaving you in there!” Krotos grunted, “Don’t even suggest it again you bastard! Who’s going to scratch my feathers like you?”

“Krotos.” The man’s voice grew soft, resting a hand on the glass. “I need you to tell Mary, Gweneth.”

“No…you- “

“Tell them I’ll always be looking down on them, say I’m sorry for getting caught up in all this. That I always loved them…Take care of them for me, would you?”

The gryphon shook, his forehead pressed against the glass, eyes clenched shut, “Of course…they are my family.”

“Then by the god’s grace, get out of here, you have a job to do. Save yourself not for your sake, but theirs.”

Arcturus was having none of it, he’d seen too many people he cared about die already. Grunting he climbed to the top of the pod. “Krotos, hand me my shield! Gus, cover your eyes!” When thrust into his hands he gripped the shield tight, slamming it down with all the strength he could muster. It cracked.

“Keep going!” Krotos warbled, crown feathers rising, “Just put your back into it!”

Just a small crack, but it was something. Adrenaline racing and against Shandalar’s second warning he continued to hammer away, unwilling to surrender to this. He would save someone, he couldn’t fail, he refused. With every strike it was growing more clear, the chips were not getting larger fast enough. “Krotos…hit me.”

“This isn’t the time Arcturus.” Krotos clacked his beak as the air battering them increased in its intensity.

Even he could feel the wrongness in the air, the corruption of the weave. Magical energy was gathering at a central point, waiting to activate. The pods around them crackled and pulsed, it would be any moment now.

“Just hit me, all you can manage!” With the time rapidly departing he conjured the shield of Lo and placed it between himself and the gryphon’s strikes. The catbird struck it with a shriek. The strength transferred to himself, swelling his spirits as he raised his shield a final time. With a prayer upon his lips to Bahamut, be brought it crashing down, shattering the glass beneath him.

In a flash he was upon Gus, taking care of his bindings and assisting his removal.

“Oh, thank the gods, both of you are truly miracles.” Laughed the pale faced guard as Krotos slung him over his back.

“You can thank me the special way later.” Laughed the gryphon.

“I think you just earned months of that.”

“Look forward to it.” He cooed.

“Now for the others.” Arcturus leaped down, “Just need to do the same thing a few more times.”

Surrounding them, the runes blazed with an intensity rivaling the sun itself. Each breath felt like inhaling fire, searing their lungs as the machinery emitted a wicked whine akin to a banshee's cry. Pressure mounted in his skull, stars bursting in his vision as dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. Struggling to maintain his balance, he felt a translucent, yellow hand sweep him and the others away from the runic ring, depositing them safely at Shandalar's side.

“What are you doing?” Arcturus shouted, failing to resist the giant hand’s strength. “We were going to save them!”

“You could not have.” She stated, “I am saving your life captain.”

From the confines of his captivity, the paladin was compelled to witness the ghastly spectacle unfolding before him. A solitary spark of light emerged at the heart of the arcane ring, casting ethereal flickers of energy. The pods ignited, emitting muffled screams as their occupants convulsed and writhed in unnatural agony. Their cries formed a chorus of despair that left Arcturus numb and entirely powerless.

Crimson lights emanated from the pods, ascending as ribbon-like wisps through the air, drawn inexorably towards the center of the ritual site. There, they intertwined in a grotesque dance, spiraling faster as they converged. These ribbons coalesced inward, igniting with the brilliance of a star. When the tumult subsided, all that remained was a diminutive crimson crystal, scarcely larger than a man's palm—a mana stone.

As swiftly as the horror had unfolded, a desolate silence descended, filling the void left by the cacophony. A deafening ring echoed in Arcturus' ears as words failed him. Three souls with whom he had shared his life were now extinguished, their mutilated forms displayed within blood-slicken pods. He had been so close, mere moments away. He collapsed to his knees, pale faced, their haunting visages pleading for his aid seared into his memory. They resembled Selina, beseeching him for help, and once again, he had arrived too late.

Hallow, drained, this is what his kingdom had in store for those beyond its borders. His despair was only broken, brought in by Krotos’ wing wrapping around him, pulling him tight.

“Thank you, thank you, you saved him.” Whimpered the gryphon.

“B…but the others.” Arcturus managed, “All of them…gone.”

“I can’t…” His ears splayed, “Arcturus, focus, you did what you could.” He rocked back and forth, unwilling to let go. “I’m sorry I wasn’t faster in getting down the stairs…You’ll find comfort in our wings…Is that not right Gus?”

There was no hesitation as the pale-faced guard nodded.

“A fear has come true, that the process has been hastened.” Shandalar’s calm broke through the dreary atmosphere, “What could have taken hours of casting has been reduced to a mere few minutes…This does not bold well.”

“An astute observation Rothdellian.” Garroth’s voice cut through the air like a lance as the dark armored warrior emerged, energy crossbow in hand, “Though if you ask me, I think it could be faster.”