"Well, the book of heroes takes a decidedly surreal turn regarding this room. It claims that there are other parallel worlds and, even, other heroes. You can communicate with them and even travel to their worlds." - Jasper
Their footsteps echoed softly down the tunnels of the hive, dark gray robes blending in with the stony walls. It wasn't Sola Mira. No, it was far smaller, but there had been signs of vampire activity in this one. Tracks leading back from a few scarce attacks that had kicked up, sightings from nearby towns seeing stray vampires running in that direction.
But there was nothing here.
The Priest and the Priestess, having went alone due to the size, could swear they had searched the place top to bottom. It was clear, although there was signs of activity still. Fresh tunnels, fresh tracks. But no vampires. Not even the pods, like he and the sheriff had dealt with in the train.
Just down the tunnel, however, there was a faint light fading from light to dark blue and then back again.
Exchanging glances, she nodded and he went on ahead, drawing the large cross out as he went. There was no ringing in his ears like had been before the ambush in Sola Mira. Just silence, so he slid it away as he proceeded until he came around the turn to a large, stone gateway with a swirl of varying shades of blue in it. She stopped just behind him.
"What is this?" She asked softly, her voice almost inaudible. He shook his head, but he didn't speak. He had no real answer for it, and instead moved closer.
He reached a hand out, letting the exposed tips of his fingers graze the light. They looked distorted, like a reflection on the water when a ripple disturbed it, but there was no pain. He extended his arm further, into the light, stared as he felt it seem to phase through, and then felt a warm, gentle breeze on his hand. It was unlike the air in the hive, which was dank and motionless. He drew his hand back and looked at her.
"There's something on the other side." He said. "I'm going through. Go back and get the others."
She gave a nod, but couldn't help but voice her concern. "How will we find you when we come through?" She asked.
He shook his head. "You will." Was all he said as he turned to the door. She watched as he stepped through the blue vortex and disappeared. She wasn't sure about him going alone, but he was capable of handling himself and she knew it, so she turned and left to gather a few of the other Priests.
On the other side, he was greeted by the same breeze he'd felt on his hand. A quick look at his surroundings and he saw he was standing at a port of sorts set below the main road, judging by the bridge going over the area. He was currently standing on a stone walk beside the river, as the docks were further down. Behind him, the swirling, blue portal was the liveliest thing there. The light was fading in the late hour, so everything looked bland, the colors muted.
This was not his world, he knew that much. His world was either sun-bleached or shrouded in darkness. These lands looked to be a middle ground. A very underdeveloped middle ground. He thought as his eyes flicked over to a steam engine boat. His world had a considerable amount of technology, even in the wastelands, despite the dire condition of the world. But there was a darkness to these lands that went beyond the dying light, unlike the night that fell and left terrified citizens hiding in their houses with rosaries and Bibles gripped tightly in their hands for fear of a vampire attack. It was something insubstantial, but very, very dangerous. Something that didn't belong there.
Something was wrong with this world.
A dark red heap to his right caught his eye and he looked over. A weak shudder wracked the crumpled shape and he realized with his usual, placid indifference that this thing he was looking at was a human being. Still, calm as he was, he quickly went to their side, rolling them onto their back with a surprising gentleness. The form he'd seen was a man- a big man, muscular, dressed in red, but battered. Whatever had ruined this world had clearly done a number on what looked to have once been a noble, if the clothing was any indication of it. The quality of his weapons may have been some indication of it, too.
He moved a cloth wrapped hand to gently pat the man's face. He watched, silently hoping he wasn't too far gone. It took a moment of repeating this before he got any form of response, and when he did, it came in the form of a soft groan, the noble's dark eyes fluttering open. His body shook with a cough, eyes shutting again before he managed to crack them back open.
"Did the..." He started, taking a breath. He was weak, almost too much so to talk. "Who survived...?"
The Priest shook his head. "I don't know." It was the truth, and all he could say, but he doubted if anyone did. "We need to get you somewhere to rest and tend those injuries."
There seemed to almost be a renewed strength in the man as he opened his eyes further. "But we cannot rest!" He instantly regretted it, drawing back as it sent him into a fit of coughs again. He settled back, but his eyes were open more now, looking towards the Priest, though he almost seemed to be looking through him. "That thing will come back and destroy us, too, if we stop. It's already done in the rest of Albion, or at least the most of it. I doubt if Aurora or Samarkand have survived either."
A frown crossed the Priest's face now, taking in the little details; this region was Albion. Aurora and Samarkand were the other regions, since he had no knowledge of what a continent was. His land had no bodies of water so such a term became irrelevant, and of course made a faint curiosity raise in the back of his mind to the river running beside them. Not for the man, he would've likely walked closer to inspect it, but he had more important things to tend to. Like this thing he was told would destroy them if they rested. He shook his head.
"We will survive. Either way, lying here will do you no more good than resting somewhere slightly more comfortable." With that, he didn't give him any choice, helping him up. He pulled one of the man's arms over his shoulder, and put one of his own around him, holding him against him and supporting almost the entirety of the man's weight. He could barely hold up on his own, and walking was an even tougher effort, with the Priest almost dragging him.
His answer either managed to reassure the man, or he was simply too weak to answer, because he didn't say another word as they ascended the stone steps leading up onto the main road. He took only the slightest notice of the gritty feeling under his boots, something more familiar from his world; sand. It got thicker the higher they moved, but no where did it completely cover, not even when they got up to the upper level. The main road, he assumed. The sight they were met with really helped put the situation this world was enduring into perspective.
Sand was piled up around building corners, in nooks and crannies, and under wagon wheels. Bodies were strewn about, eyes wide, mouths open in an eternal scream, or blank faced because the shock of their situation had hit them so hard it left them unable to react at all, even as it killed them. Some of them likely never knew they were even dead.
Most of them were civilians. There were a few in a bright red with rifles in hand that he took for guards of some kind, maybe noble's just as the one he had hauled up the stairs was. He didn't give himself long to think about it. He could feel a faint shift in the air, the feeling of the air closing in around him, and a low, restless grumble from the noble he supported gave him some idea he wasn't alone in it. They moved on.
He found one building with the door ajar, but intact, and pulled him in. He pushed the door shut, leaving it unlocked, and checked carefully around the corners and through doorways as he moved to the stairs. By the time he got there, he was dragging the man, who had evidently succumbed to unconsciousness again. He was still among the living, though; he could hear his ragged breath even as he hauled him up the stairs and onto the bed.
Sighing, he situated the noble on the bed in the way that they were trained to put the critically injured. He decided he'd try to get something to properly tend to the wound with once the man was recovered enough to remain conscious... if he did recover to that extent. Of that, he had the faintest suggestion of doubt at the back of his mind, but his faith told him he'd heal. That faith was harder to follow blindly in the wake of the recent events that had went down with the church, the lies that had come to light, but he believed it more than he believed his doubt.
But if the man didn't rouse enough within a short while, he would have to chance leaving to find something outside, or find something to make do with where they were.
Until then, he found a few candles, lit them, and sat them on the window sill. He kept only one, sitting it on the bedside table and pulled a stool up beside the noble, taking out his Bible. He'd read it enough now that he didn't really need the book itself to know it, but he would read all the same. It would pass the time, and a bit of prayer couldn't do this world any harm. Maybe a little prayer was all it needed.
If only it were that simple, he thought.
Right, so arguably my favorite concept for a Fable fic, has absolutely got to be the scenario of "What if the hero didn't stop the Crawler in Fable III?" I tend to love Right, so forgive any typos, I tried to go over it a few times to correct it, but, you know, I probably didn't catch everything. And bear with me, I've only ever written with Ben Finn and the Crawler. I'll take any suggestions you can throw out into consideration, on most anything.
But since the holidays are coming up, and I desperately need to reacquaint myself with the games, it could be a little bit before I get the next chapter up.
So, thanks for reading, and tolerating my rambling there. (By the way, the title may or may not be subject to change.)