Nectar
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🕑 Added 2024-07-22 16:19:00 +0000 UTC< Previous | ToC | Next >
Jack sat hunched over his notes, eyes scanning the pages for what felt like the thousandth time. Goddammit. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his temples.
Time had passed since their expedition to the Quel Mines, and they were no closer to unraveling the mystery of the crystal plague or its perpetrators. Jack’s mind wandered back to that day as they’d set out at first light...
---
The sun had barely crested the horizon when their party departed Holden. Jack had ridden alongside Sir Roland, with a contingent of guards and fellow researchers trailing behind. As they’d approached the entrance to the vast network of tunnels, Jack had felt a chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the early morning air.
“Remember,” Sir Roland’s voice had cut through the silence, “we’re here to gather information. Engage only if absolutely necessary.”
They’d dismounted, leaving a small group to guard their horses. Jack had checked his pack one last time, and ensured he had everything necessary. With a deep breath, he had followed Sir Roland into the mines.
The darkness had enveloped them almost immediately, broken only by the flickering light of their torches. There had been this musty scent of earth and something... else. Something Jack hadn’t quite been able to place his fingers on, at the time, but something that had set his nerves on edge all the same.
They had moved cautiously through the winding tunnels. Jack’s eyes had darted from wall to wall.
It wasn’t until they’d reached a large cavern deep within the mine that they found their first clue.
The cavern walls had been covered in a thin layer of crystalline growth with a few shackles jutting out. But it was the center of the room that drew everyone’s attention. A massive circle had been etched into the stone floor, filled with intricate symbols.
“By the gods,” someone had whispered behind him.
Jack had approached the circle cautiously, his mind full of thoughts. He recognized some of the symbols from his research into arcane rituals, but others were completely foreign to him. Whatever had happened there, it was far beyond anything he’d encountered before.
“Sir Roland,” he’d called out, “I believe this was some sort of ritual site.”
Sir Roland had knelt beside him with his face grim. “Can you tell what kind of ritual?”
“From what I can see, this is where they grew the crystalline creatures—and the crystal plague... However,” Jack shook his head. “I cannot tell for certain. Not without further study. But whatever it was, it was powerful. And recent.”
They’d spent hours in that cavern.
And the result had been obvious.
This was an operation site of the Night Whispers.
The ride back to Holden was subdued, each member of the party lost in their own thoughts.
---
A sharp knock at the door jolted Jack back to the present. He blinked, realizing he’d been staring blankly at his notes for who knows how long.
“Enter,” he called out, straightening up and trying to look more put-together than he felt.
The door swung open to reveal a tall, imposing figure in ornate robes. Bishop Ezekiel strode into the room, his piercing blue eyes taking in every detail of Jack’s cramped laboratory. Behind him entered a woman. A vampire, he recognized. With a muzzle on her mouth. It took nothing but a single glance for Jack to recognize her as a vampire. For vampires were pretty similar to undead. And he was a [Necromancer].
Not to mention, they’d met once before. He, Ezekiel, and the woman—Seraphina.
“Ah, Jack,” the Bishop’s voice was deep. “I hope we’re not interrupting anything crucial.”
Jack stood, offering a slight bow. “Not at all, Your Grace. I was just reviewing my notes—and the samples I took from the earlier experiments of the crystal plague—from the Quel Mines expedition.”
Bishop Ezekiel nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “And how goes your research? Any breakthroughs?”
Jack hesitated. “Uh, nothing major.”
Nodding, Bishop Ezekiel moved further into the room, his gaze falling on Jack’s crowded workbench. “We’ve come to discuss a proposition, Jack. Apparently, Theodore believes that combining our resources may be the key to finding a cure for this plague.”
“You... want to work together?”
“Indeed,” the Bishop nodded.
“What about Sir Thomas?” Jack asked cautiously. “I doubt he’d be pleased.”
The Bishop’s expression darkened slightly. “Sir Thomas’s priorities are... narrow. He focuses solely on containment and elimination of the infected. While necessary, it does little to address the root of the problem. He can be narrowminded.”
As if summoned by the mention of his name, the door burst open once more. Sir Thomas strode in.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, staring at the Bishop. “You overstep your bounds, Ezekiel.”
Silently, Jack found himself backing away. He was acutely aware of the tension between Thomas and Ezekiel. The men didn’t quite like each other.
“Thomas,” Bishop Ezekiel’s voice was calm, but there was steel beneath the surface. “We were just discussing a collaborative effort to find a cure. Surely you can see the value in such an endeavor? This infighting serves no one. Thomas, your efforts to contain the spread are vital. But we cannot ignore the possibility of a cure.”
Sir Thomas pondered for a moment longer before nodding. “Very well.”
“Good,” Bishop Ezekiel said with a smile. “Now, Jack, where can we start from?”
Jack cleared his throat. “I... may have some insight into that. We’ve discovered that the disease is spreading through the water supply.”
“The water? How did you come to this conclusion?”
Jack couldn’t help but smile slightly. “We had some... unexpected help. A woman named Rosemary approached us with the theory. At first, we thought she was just another panicked villager, but her claims checked out. She’s been invaluable in our research since then.”
The room fell silent as everyone processed this new information. Finally, Bishop Ezekiel spoke up.
“It seems we have much to discuss. Jack, I believe it would be beneficial for you to work closely with Seraphina on developing a cure. Her... unique perspective and skills may prove invaluable.”
Jack nodded, even though he wasn’t quite comfortable working of working so closely with a vampire, being a human and all. “Of course, Your Grace.”
Sir Thomas looked like he wanted to object, but instead, he turned to leave. At the door, he paused, glancing back at Jack. “Create a cure. And Jack... be careful who you trust.”
With that, he was gone, leaving Jack alone with the Bishop and Seraphina.
Bishop Ezekiel clasped his hands together. “Well then, shall we begin? There’s much work to be done, and precious little time to do it.”
As Jack began gathering his notes to share with his new collaborators, Rosemary entered, then blinked, staring at the two. Throwing Jack a questioning glance, she got to work.
Yes, they’d hired her to work for them—the woman was a good herbalist.
***
“Where’s the [Necromancer]?” Ethan muttered under his breath.
He had expected... something. Anything. The shuffling of undead feet, the low moans of reanimated corpses, or even some kind of sinister chuckle of the dark mage he sought like some low-budget movie. But there was nothing. No undead. No people.
Just an overwhelming emptiness.
After he spent some time looking around the village. He didn’t find the [Necromancer]. Heck, he didn’t find anything—no undead, no people, nothing.
Ethan’s boots crunched on dust-covered cobbles, his eyes scanning every crumbling doorway, every overturned cart, searching for any sign of life, any clue that might lead him to the [Necromancer].
He reached the village square which was a desolate expanse where a well stood as a centerpiece. A rusty bucket lay on its side, its chain dangling uselessly. Ethan knelt, peering into the inky blackness.
Maybe there’s some hidden passageway. Heh.
But as he studied the well more closely, his hopes faded. There was nothing here but stagnant water. With a sigh, Ethan pushed himself to his feet, brushing the dust from his knees.
Undeterred, he checked every ramshackle hovel, every abandoned barn. He left no stone unturned, no shadowy corner unexplored. But each empty room, each collapsed roof, each rotting floorboard told the same story—this village had been abandoned long ago.
The far end of the village opened up to the forest which lead down a path to some abandoned hunters’ huts.
With a deep breath, Ethan pushed aside a curtain of vines and stepped into the cool embrace of the forest. His eyes darted from the gnarled branches of trees that clawed at the sky, to the long shadows that writhed on the forest floor.
After finding nothing in the hunters’ huts, Ethan’s gaze was drawn to a colossal rock formation. The megalith loomed before him. More specifically, its surface caught his attention. On it, runes were etched—runes that seemed to shift and change when viewed from different angles. There, barely visible amidst the swirling patterns, he spotted a narrow crevice, hardly wide enough for a man to squeeze through.
Well, if anything screamed “hideout”, it’s this thing.
This was it, perhaps. Ethan lowered his back and inched forward into the darkness, the rough stone scraping against his armor. The crevice twisted and turned, leading him deeper into the heart of the mountain.
The narrow passage opened into a vast cavern; its ceiling lost in an inky void that seemed to devour light itself. Phosphorescent fungi clung to the walls. Stalactites hung like the teeth of some massive beast, dripping with a viscous liquid that hissed and smoked where it hit the ground.
The cavern floor was a maze of natural rock formations and carefully constructed ritual circles. Ethan’s eye recognized symbols of necromancy—and something related to... souls?—etched into the very stone. A single torch sputtered on the far wall, its flame an unnatural purple.
In the center of the chamber stood an obsidian altar, its surface stained with dark patches that Ethan didn’t want to examine too closely. Scattered around were arcane implements: skull-topped staffs, books bound in what looked disturbingly like human skin, and vials filled with swirling mists of various colors.
Above everything else, there was silence.
“Is anyone there?” His voice echoed through the cavern, unanswered. Had his intel been wrong? Was the [Necromancer] long gone? Or, perhaps, Malakai ran away after finding out that Ethan hadn’t stopped his pursuit.
Suddenly, a drop of thick, viscous liquid splattered on his forehead. He flinched back, his hand whipping up to his head, wiping at the slimy ooze and looking up.
“Ugh,” he scowled.
What the fuck is this?
It appeared to be some kind of sticky substance he’d encountered once before. When he’d fought the orc.
“Oh please not this...”
Ethan looked up—
—and saw a colossal shape shifting in the shadows above. A monstrous spider, its body the size of a carriage, hung from the cavern ceiling. Its eight spindly legs, each thicker than a man’s torso, twitched.
But it wasn’t the monstrous form that sent chills down Ethan’s spine.
Wedged between its thorax and abdomen, a grotesquely deformed human face contorted in a snarl.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” the face, Malakai, snarled with a guttural croak. “The ritual wasn’t complete! I had to hasten it!”
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Comments
Nectar
Nice! I tried a thing, glad it worked.
Chase
Got the notification when this one dropped!
