Disclaimer: I do not own BG2 at all.
Warning: violence, disturbing images, morbid, macabre and noir things. It's supposed to be really creepy. *crosses fingers* Yeah right. Me? Write something creepy? HAHAHAHA.
Author's Note: Write or Die is my new best friend. I'll go back through and edit this whole fic top to bottom once July is over and the competition is won. Mwahaha. I personally hated this mission, but it had to be done, since I do want Keldorn in this.
SAVIOR FALLING
Part X: Blindness
The longer they were in Athkatla, the more deeds they did, the more people knew who they were. It also seemed that more people were willing to approach them about troubles which needed adventurers, or at least bring up such difficulties to them, so they at least knew of the problem and could try seeking out the source. Upon coming back to the Copper Coronet, they were greeted not only by Bernard, but by some of the patrons, and locals whom they did not recognize. Much had happened since they left, it seemed.
"I went to service this morning but there was hardly anyone there. Half the priests were gone, and even more of the usual crowd." The woman wrung her hands together, face twisted with worry. It seemed like most of the people in the slums relied on the church for some shred of hope. With services smaller than usual, or not happening at all, as some people had stated, that hope was faltering.
It worried Kysis. All of the priests Kysis had known were chained to their faith, would never leave it for anything. Services in the morning were a must. Kysis was surprised Anomen had yet to complain and ask he at least be able to go to service in the temple of Helm in the mornings. Then again, Anomen was a squire of the Order; he was prepared to be away from the church for long amounts of time.
"We should go to the Temple District. I would like to know what is at the bottom of this." Anomen was frowning, watching the woman, looking around. Some other patrons were around, nodding though they did not speak up to add their own stories this time. There was definitely something wrong.
Kysis strummed his fingers on his sword's hilt, thinking for a moment. "Yes, we will go." There was no other option. Though Kysis was not a man of faith himself, he understood how strongly people felt about the subject, how people missing from the holy places could literally break a city.
That was a worrying thought.
Quickly, Kysis turned, striding to their usual table. Yoshimo and Jaheira were sitting, eating while talking. They fell silent upon his approach, but it did not draw any alarm. It was a natural quiet, not a secretive one.
"We are going to the Temple District. Apparently there is a slew of missing people there. Perhaps we can help in finding them."
Yoshimo did not look all that pleased. Jaheira remained neutral, no judgment flashing over her features. It was not much longer before they had finished their lunches, gathering their gear for them to head out. The district itself was not that far of a walk, through tight streets and blind turns. Luckily, they ran in to no trouble. The sun was high above them, shadows minimal, not allowing for many hiding places.
The Temple District was oddly silent. Not even the birds were singing. Kysis let his eyes slide over the stables entrance of the Order, not recognizing the guards outside, thankfully. Anomen waved, and they gave greetings back, but it was not enough to stop their progress. Kysis quickened his pace, hoping to pass that building by as quickly as possible.
They headed north, towards the main temples. There was a gathered crowd. Kysis slowed, stopped. There were commoners gathered, priests and priestesses, knights. At the center of the throng was a man. Through the ruckus, Kysis could not hear much, only words here and there.
The Unseeing Eye. False gods. One true god. A new religion.
This did not bode well.
Kysis moved to the side of the street as the crowd dispersed, watching the people go. Many of them followed the man in orange robes, the one whom had been speaking of these blasphemous things. Kysis did not know the full breadth of his claims, but what he did hear was enough. This was unnatural. Kysis watched the man as he passed, trying not to stare at the empty sockets where his eyes once were. The man was blinded, eyes removed.
"You there, you are for hire? Come with me." A priest had been hanging at the back of the crowd, arms crossed, gaze stern. Kysis recognized his attire as that of a priest of Helm, one which stayed in the church rather than adventuring as Anomen did. The priest turned and began walking before they could give any answer, Kysis practically having to jump to follow.
The temple of Helm was a grand place, the front adorned with a palm that had an open eye on it. Helm was known as the All Seeing Eye, a neutral force, the middle ground keeping both sides in check. Kysis paused only for a moment outside of the temple, taking a deep breath before walking in. A tingle ran over his shoulders, along his spine. His hands ached, just slightly, but enough to be noticeable. This was a place where he was not entirely welcome, and at the same time, he was not banned, either.
The worst of his fears past, Kysis approached the man at the center of the temple, companions not far behind him, though they kept back. Kysis fiddled with the ring on his right pinky, the ring of Human Influence, knowing it would effect here whether he consciously willed it or not.
"Did you hear all that the heretic Gaal said today?" The priest's arms were crossed, face stoic, though his lips were pursed too hard to be considered a slack, straight line. It was obvious that he was displeased. Kysis shook his head, certain the priest did not wish to hear his words on it. "The All Seeing Eye of Helm demands to know about this new cult. They pluck out their eyes. Such blindness is appalling to Helm. We ask that you seek and destroy."
Kysis had felt a strange, dark magic coiled around the blinded man's form. It had felt wrong, in the pit of his stomach. The blindness was unnatural, and something was terribly amiss. "Then we shall go. Where is this cult making its base?"
"We have already sent Lord Keldorn Firecam, Knight of the Order, and he has yet to return. Helm allows us to only see so far, as this cult blocks our vision with their lack. It is somewhere in the sewers of this district." The priest let his eyes rake over Kysis, his companions. Kysis felt uncomfortable under that gaze, like the priest could see straight into his core with Helm's aid. The strange part was that he did not feel the same way about Anomen, who was a cleric devoted to Helm, and yet... There was no time to debate faith, and Kysis was certain Anomen would not wish to hear it.
"He is a very pious Knight of the Order, Kysis. It would do best if we join with him in this quest." Anomen sounded and looked pleased, though it felt only a mask. Kysis frowned. Another member of the Order was not what he wanted to deal with at this time.
There was no choice.
"We will seek him out, then."
0 0 0 0 0
The sewers were not as pitch black as Kysis was expecting, a few torches flickering here are there near the ladders. After some wiggling and being forced to use his sword like a pry bar, Kysis managed to get one of the torches out of its holder, lifting it to cast more illumination on the old tunnels. Thankfully, this was the Temples District, which had to be relatively clean compared to other districts in the city, such as in the slums or the docks. Kysis did not want to think about what putrid smells and what foul mutations might have taken place in those sewers.
Trying to ignore the smell to little avail, Kysis led the way, walking carefully along the stone lip at the side of the tunnel. The water below it was dark, murky. It would ruin his boots, pants and the traps on his armor. Kysis was not willing to do that, especially with how they were struggling to raise funds, to half-decently replace their gear and stay alive in the City of Coin. They did not need to replace their clothing and parts of their armor as well.
The flickering flame did not cast as far as he wanted, but there was little he could do about it. There was no mage with them to cast a light spell. Anomen could not cast any form of daylight spell as well, though he was trying to learn such things. Currently, they were far above him. It was frustrating, to say the least. Kysis lifted the torch higher, frowning as he saw a thief slink back into the shadows. The thief, whoever he was, did not make any move towards them.
Down one tunnel, the sewers abruptly stopped into old, rotting wooden railing. Kysis carefully leaned over the sheer fall, holding his torch out. He could only see a small distance of the way down that black void. A chill breeze wafted up from the depths. Kysis pursed his lips, moving back from the drop. They continued along the curve of the sewer tunnels, and then the sounds of battle reached his ears.
Kysis knew the sound of undead wailing in battle, knew the feel of the unnatural magic keeping them alive, even if it was just a mockery of life. Kysis handed the torch to Anomen, pace quickening as he drew his sword. Sarevok's sword was strapped across his back, at an angle to stop it from getting in the way. That was better than on his hip, where his hand had constantly brushed against the dread blade and felt a shock. His feet padded quickly over slick rock, Kysis readjusting his grip on the hilt of his sword.
With a lunge, he surprised a zombie, if such a thing could be done, sword slicing easily into putrid flesh. The skin came off in chunks, goo-like blood coming off on his sword. With an upward swing, he decapitated the zombie, skewering another a second later. Kicking, Kysis sent it against the wall and off his sword, another sword striking to finish it.
"Hold! Who are you, to be prowling these sewers?" The man's voice was cultured, aged. He took off his helm, revealing hair streaked with grey and a face set with deep wrinkles. Vigor still blazed in his eyes.
"The Church sent us to investigate the Cult as well, Lord Firecam." Kysis cast a glance down the tunnel to be sure there were no more undead before flicking his sword dry and sheathing it. He pulled off his helm shaking his head to move his platinum hair from being plastered against his face and atop his head. "I am Kysis."
Keldorn gave him a long look over before nodding, no doubt having scanned him for evil, made sure he was no illusion. The old paladin turned his gaze then to the others, a smile spreading on his lips. "Squire Anomen! It is good to see other members of the Order out on the path of righteousness. Why didn't you tell me you had a squire, Kysis?"
"I am most definitely not his squire!" Anomen's mustache looked to actually be quivering. It was an amusing sight; Kysis had to try hard not to laugh.
"He speaks true. I may be a fellow paladin but I am no member of the Order, Lord Firecam." Kysis looked down the tunnel again, grey-blue eyes not seeing as far as he wished they would. "Is this where the people have been disappearing to?"
"This is the tunnel. From what I have heard, there are many ruins underneath us, and the Cult may have taken up residence in one of them." Keldorn looked down the tunnel as well, gaze disapproving. Kysis could already see that he was a very pious man. He also seemed understanding in a way Anomen was not. Kysis felt comfortable around him. Then again, it was one of the effects of paladins; Kysis knew this well, from seeing it work on others around him.
"Shall we?" Kysis pushed his hair back, replacing his helm on his head.
Keldorn laughed warmly, putting his own helm back on. "Of course!"
0 0 0 0 0
The eerie echo of chants reached their ears long before they located the source of those resonating tones. Kysis frowned when the discordant tones first came into his range of hearing, his pausing, waiting a moment. The sound did not stop. At that time, Kysis had thought nothing of it, but as they drew nearer, the others started to perceive it as well. What worried him, or at least vaguely frightened him, was the fact that he had heard it before Jaheira; though she was only half elven, that was more than him, and the pointed eared people were supposed to have amazing hearing. It was yet another sign he did not wish to face.
The stench of the sewers was far behind except what clung to their persons, which thankfully, was not much. Kysis was not sure if he felt any more comfortable in the shallowest of the ruins, though. The walls and architecture were not all that different from modern day Athkatla, though a few of the flourishes were out dated, but still seen in older family estates, he was certain. What bothered him was the stillness of the air. It almost felt like a crypt. They had already encountered a pack of shadows and a few sickly, diseased creatures. Kysis wondered about what could possibly be further in the ruins, further buried in the past. Rather than pondering, he kept his sword drawn at ready.
"I do not like the feel of the room ahead, Kysis." Yoshimo stepped out of the shadows beside Kysis, making him tense. The thief's steps were too light, too agile to hear. He might as well have been one of the shadows. "I cannot find any of the workings of a usual trap, and yet..." Yoshimo frowned, staring ahead at the door. It did not look safe, with the wheel placed in the center of the room, begging to be approached, and the open door at the far side.
Kysis kept his sword in hand, readjusting his grip on the leather wrapped hilt. He missed his old sword, its familiar energy, the weave of wires over the hilt he had helped place himself. That was long gone, though. Kysis tightened his grasp, not wanting to get the weapon jarred from his fingers. His steps were slow, measured, nowhere near as nimble or quiet as Yoshimo's, though the thief insisted that Kysis could possibly learn to be so graceful. That was not a primary concern of Kysis', so he had yet to take Yoshimo up on his offer of special training, or "refining", as he had called it.
The moment he entered the room, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Kysis did not approach the center wheel of the room, eyeing it, but not daring to go closer. There was something wrong. He circled the outer rim of the room, the odd metal floor creaking with every shift of his weight.
With a thud, the door at the other end of the room pounded shut, a loud click affirming that it was locked. Kysis looked to the door he had just come through, dashing, only for it to thud shut as well. The hidden latch slid into place before he could reach the door. The was no handle, no hole to pick, nothing. Kysis pounded on the door, pommel of his sword showing a slight dent while the door showed nothing. Kysis lowered his shoulder, charging. Pain throbbed through his shoulder, but the door did not budge in the least.
A low hissing filled his ears. Kysis turned, squinting into the sudden fog. Gas. It was some sort of gas. A dull throb started at his temples, quickly radiating out. Kysis held his breath, lungs immediately starting to hurt. He hadn't gotten a full breath.
That wheel at the center of the room was the only out of place fixture he could remember.
Sheathing his sword, Kysis quickly strode down the middle metal planks, putting his hands on the valve. With a grunt, he pulled. It screeched, valve grinding around. The hiss slowly stopped. The fog dissipated. Kysis took a deep breath, face red, skin clammy. A sigh of relief came the moment the doors swung back open.
Refusing to waste any more time in there, Kysis crossed into the next room, keeping in the shadows of a column as he waited for the others. Their trek through the room was uneventful, the trap only going off once, thankfully. It would have been difficult otherwise, since Yoshimo had yet to see a way to disarm the mechanism, whatever it was.
There were two armored guards standing at the other exit of the room, the metal plates of their attire unpolished, uncared for really. Kysis let his gaze trail up, to their faces, to their eyes. Their eyes were closed, dark with bruises, eyelids not standing out at all, but rather sitting flat, as though the eyes were missing. It was the Cult. Someone came walking up between them, that man in the orange robes, who's eyelids were open despite the missing eyes. It was sickening, seeing the dark red sockets, lacking anything but connective tissues. Kysis had to swallow back the bitter bile in his throat.
Taking a few calming breaths, Kysis straightened himself, walking out from the shadows, the others right behind him, falling into formation. They could not just storm the compound. From the sound of the chant, now much louder, there were lots of people inside. Storming the compound would be suicide. The two guards raised their weapons, changing their stances immediately.
"Visitors to our Church? Ahhh, but you have filthy eyes. Such abominations shall not be allowed in our ranks!"
"Wait. I heard your speech earlier above ground and I wish to know more of this god of yours." Kysis almost smiled, though he stopped himself. It took all of his will power not to stare into the empty sockets of Gaal's eyes, not to gag in natural reflex to the sight of them. His stomach was churning just talking to the heretic. His every survival reflex was telling him to leave, to run away. The place beyond the two guards and Gaal reeked of evil. Kysis could feel that foul presence emanating through the door, trying to permeate his skin. His blood was stirring at its call.
"And are you willing to endure the trials of the faithful?"
Those trials... Kysis faintly heard a scream through the low, disordered chant coming from within this strange, subterranean temple. A shiver crawled up his spine. The fine hair on the back of his neck had yet to lay back down. The trials were no doubt where the faithful lost their eyes. Kysis would not pluck his eyes out, not for this Cult of the Eyeless, not for the All Seeing Eye of Helm. His vision was far too precious, his long term goals too great.
"Perhaps there is a way I can serve the Church with my eyes intact, at least for now. I... I want to serve, I really do." Kysis fiddled with the ring on his finger, feeling its power tingle through him, just a faint trace. He hoped this priest, Gaal, did not sense the difference. "I just cannot come to terms with the loss of my eyes just yet. Is there not something?"
It worked.
Gaal smiled, wrinkles irrupting on his previously smooth skin. "Why yes, I think there is a way for one such as you to prove your faith." The priest rubbed his hands together in thought, lips pursed into a thin line. He was obviously thinking hard. "There is an artifact we seek, in the lower reaches of these ruins. Many faithful have been sent to retrieve it and none have returned. Adventures like you could perhaps succeed where they have failed."
"What are we searching for?" Kysis felt Keldorn take a step closer, just behind his left shoulder. The younger paladin did not make any move to show he knew of the advance. There was no way they could attack here and survive. There had to be another way.
"There is a rod, an ancient power, in the ruins. We need it." Gaal pulled a key out from the folds of his robes, holding it out. Kysis quickly took it. "This is the key to the lower reaches. Be quick, for we require it soon."
Kysis took the key and quickly hooked it to his belt, turning to go. These tunnels were no place for he and his allies to discuss this over. Whatever this rod was, Kysis had a bad feeling about it. That never boded well, especially not with his keen senses.
0 0 0 0 0
There were former cult members deeper in the tunnels, defectors, eyeless who could no longer see. It was like there had been a spell cast on all the faithful, which left them utterly blind and helpless once removed. It was an easy decision, to help them, to retrieve the half of the rod in the lower ruins, find the half held by the wicked Beholder at the roots of this Cult and destroy it. The plan was elaborate, but it had to work.
The moment Kysis had the hidden half of the rod in his hands, he knew he had to destroy it. The raw power emanating from the rod, just half of it, had almost knocked him clear off his feet. Kysis was not sure if he would be able to wield the reassembled artifact.
It was time to find out.
A phrase, so simple as "The eye is blind", had gotten them into the lower reaches of the cult compound. There were bones, old bits of rotted flesh, teeth, other grisly finds in the bottom of the pit, but it was the only way. There was a whole village of undead there to feed on the remains of those who did not meet the cult's standards of faith. Kysis had not dared linger long enough to count the sets of bones, estimate just how many had died by the Cult and Gaal. It made him feel nauseous.
How many families had held out hope that their loved ones were still alive, somewhere, out there, just waiting to be found? How many lives would be crushed when they found out that their beloved was blinded or slain? Kysis quickened his pace, rope bound bridge swaying under his fast strides. He could see a hole in the cliff face ahead, perhaps the way into the Beholder's layer, perhaps another area for the damned to walk. It was the only exit he saw to this putrid area, and it was that way he took. There was no way to climb back out of the pit they had jumped into, after all.
The moment Kysis passed through that hole in the stone, the moment he regretted it.
The walls were alive. The pink and red flesh encasing them pulsed with life, beating like a heart, breathing like lungs. Kysis could feel his booted feet sink in to the flesh of the floor, bruising it in some spots, even. He had to clap a hand over his mouth at first, trying not to lean on the living walls in any way.
This was the kind of place Beholders nested. Kysis could tell a hive from sight, even though he had never been in one before, had never wanted to be in one, no matter how long it took to avoid such an occurrence. There was no way to now. He had to end this cult, its evil, before it could do any more harm to Athkatla.
As the others entered behind him, they had similar reactions, for the most part. Keldorn staggered, gagging before he could right himself, his resolve. Anomen looked perturbed. Jaheira frowned, a quick prayer to Silvanus tumbling from her lips. Yoshimo was the only one seeming unaffected, starting to walk ahead, around a throbbing red pillar and into the connecting tunnel. Kysis unsheathed his sword, following closely after, trying not to make much noise though his boots made wet sounds on the fleshy floor. There was no real way to avoid it, even Yoshimo making noise at his passing.
There were not many people in the tunnels, if at all. They had explored five various tunnels part way before spotting a group of blinded priests, smaller, young Beholders floating in the air around them like task masters. Kysis could feel the dark magic sheathed around them, a vile cocoon which no doubt gave them sight, at least partially. He doubted anyone in their right mind would willingly serve a beholder unless they were very evil to begin with, and even then it was questionable. What the priests and followers could see had no doubt been altered by the beholders. For all Kysis knew, these frightful tunnels may have looked like gilded halls to them.
Magic was a tricky thing.
Yoshimo crept through the shadows, keeping close to the wall. Kysis couldn't tell where the light was coming from, if it was the walls, the ceilings, the yellow swollen bulbs protruding here and there, or the Beholders themselves. They did not have time to find out. Kysis walked along the wall slowly, to avoid suspicion, sight. The young beholders were facing away from him, the blinded followers, facing towards him, having no sight of him at all. This was precarious, as he was not concealed in the darkness like Yoshimo, nor was he well protected against magic. They had to time this just right.
Kysis lifted his hand, showing three fingers. And then two. And then one.
In tandem, they jumped, Yoshimo plunging his katana into the center orb of the Beholder closest to him, swinging around to avoid the beast's nasty bite. Kysis thrust his sword upward, sliding, cleaving off three eye stalks at once by some miracle. When it spun with a screech, Kysis thrust his sword again, burying it in that center eye as well, slicing through it. Both young beholders fell, hitting the ground with a wet thud.
The blinded followers finally seemed to notice them. It was not the singular beholders controlling them. Their thoughts had just been elsewhere. Kysis quickly retreated around the corner, Yoshimo stepping back into the shadows, soon rejoining him in the left tunnel. The others were there waiting. Kysis kept his voice to a whisper, just in case. "I do not want to hurt any of the followers if at all possible. Once we have killed the Unseeing Eye, they should be freed from his thrall."
The others nodded, agreeing. These people had been tricked and charmed, perhaps with an exception of Gaal, but not even that was certain. Kysis wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, even if he doubted any of them would give him the same sort of treatment. They were tricked into evil, after all. His blood was innately so.
Frowning, Kysis led on, hurrying down the next tunnel they had yet to search. The entrance was down it, stairs leading up into the middle of the temple compound. Kysis jogged past it, waving for the others to do so as well. They could not linger there long. Other people were bound to come down at some point. It was too great a risk.
The next chamber over was humming with power. Kysis peeked around the corner, seeing the young Beholder hovering there, a silent, frightful guard. Its main body was gnarled, scarred, a putrid color, with that massive eye in the middle and a fang filled mouth gaping just below that. Various eye stalks protruded from the top of its head, hanging limp like a wig of snakes currently, though Kysis had seen how fast they could snap to attention, attack. The magic held in those eye stalks could prove deadly very quickly.
Yoshimo had out a bow, the bow he had with him when they found him. He was stringing an enchanted arrow, striking the head against the pommel of his katana to ignite it. His lips moved to count to three, and he sprung, rolling out into the chamber, pulling back the string, firing. Kysis heard a growl, the sound of fire taking. Yoshimo fired another arrow. Readjusting his sword, Kysis jumped out from behind the wall, rushing, Keldorn just behind him. It was a matter of seconds before the young Beholder was down, mangled and no longer a threat.
The half of the rod in his pack was humming loudly, vibrating against his back. Kysis knelt down, flinching as he peeled back the red skin on the center pillar of the room. There the other half of the rod was, humming loudly to the one in his pack. Taking out the half he had, the other half jumped to it, twisting, forming into a whole without his touch. The completed rod fell into his palm.
A loud rumble reached his ears, jarring him from his momentary victory.
The entrance to the chamber was filled with a massive form, the Unseeing Eye, that enormous, elder Beholder. A wide, coiled smile cut through the lower half of its face, skin pulled back enough to see the daggers that were teeth.
Die. The word echoed lowly, a low purr of a voice, in the back of his head. Kysis glanced back, for a split moment; the others seemed to have heard it to.
Holding his breath, Kysis lifted the rod.
The concussion wave made him stagger backwards, Kysis straining hard to not get knocked over. His hand felt numb and consumed by a searing pain at once, whole arm shaking. The light in the rod dulled, pulsing bright and dark, bright and dark, before finally giving in to darkness, seeming normal once more.
The Unseeing Eye was not dead yet.
"Kysis!" Jaheira plowed into him from the left, two of them falling to the living floor as a searing beam ripped through where he had just been standing. Kysis tucked the rod in his belt, struggling to stand.
Keldorn had already rushed the Beholder, family blade slicing in to it. Yoshimo jumped from the darkness behind it, katana cleaving down. Anomen hit it from the side, mace smacking in to it hard. The Beholder was slowly but surely sinking, unable to hold itself so easily aloft. Most of the eye sockets were burnt past recognition, just one still opened, bulbous eye staring at Kysis. Its main eye was red, bleeding, mouth riddled with gashes.
It was dead. It was actually dead. Kysis could barely believe it as he pushed himself up from the ground, shaking pink slime from his hand. The beast was dead.
The hive began to tremble, walls shaking, gurgling, as though the structure was somehow connected to the beast. There were people yelling, screaming, the frightened sounds echoing all throughout the tunnels. It was obvious that elder Beholder was the key to their sight, the thick veil of dark magic on the place dissipating as the last tendrils of life seeped from the creator. Kysis rubbed his left arm, trying to get the feeling back in to it to little avail. He hoped it would come back, and soon, as he would no doubt need to use it with his sword on the way out.
There would no doubt be a power struggle. Kysis could hear it happening already. There were some truly evil beings within the populace of the cult, and they would probably try to draw the tricked believers back in, try to bring back their sight through magical manipulation yet again. To control so many people, though, took a very powerful projector, and without the elder Beholder, that was not at all possible. It would take whole slew of illithid, or perhaps a horde of ancient liches to pull it off. Kysis could only pray that there were no such groups within Athkatla.
Another rumble took the network of tunnels, the mottled flesh coating the corridors contracting for a moment, making the way through smaller before relaxing again. They needed to get out. Picking up his accidentally dropped sword, Kysis dashed for the entrance he had spotted, feet slipping at first as he ran up the stairs, out of the hive. It was a hallway they emerged into, a hallway which was familiar, grey stone and intricate columns making up the path they took into the deeper, older ruins.
The rod felt like it was searing a frozen spot into his side. Kysis touched it, a brush of his finger tips jolting him. The rod was a vile thing and needed to be destroyed, like he had promised. There were people to free from bondage.
Kysis' pace slowed as he began the long descent, the wide stairs clear, clean, just as still and unused as they had been before. The air was a touch cool from the water ahead. Kysis took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air outside of the hive. The walls were rough stone or faced with columns now. He had yet to discern if they were of human make, or one of the other races which walked the world currently. Perhaps they were remnants of a race long past, humans having taken over residence of vacant ruins. Kysis mused as he walked, feeling his fingers stretch for the rod more than once.
That wicked device was calling to him. It was like an itch at the back of his head at first. Though most of the rod's power had been exerted in the casting of its one, destructive spell, there was still a great deal of magic left inside it. It truly was a cursed weapon. The itch turned in to a whisper. Kysis wasn't sure what was being said at first, but soon the command became clear, even if the words were still too obscure. Use it. That is what it wanted, what it tempted him with. There was so much power in that thin, bizarre rod, begging to be utilized. It would recharge with time, with care.
If he used it again, he was certain he would go mad.
Kysis dropped his hand away from the rod again, flexing his fingers. He swallowed at the lump which had formed in the back of his throat. Quickly, he crossed the precarious bridge which had tested him not all that long ago. The air was much damper on the other side, more laden with moisture. The group emerged into the lowest reaches of the ruins, where the massive lake and temple were, as well as the people chained to it. Children, men, women, elders, they all wallowed around by the pools, skin decaying just as their souls did. They stood as Kysis strode past with the rod, all eyes trained on him, on the faint light around him.
"You've returned! How is it that you have returned!?" The supposed leader of the group, a hunched man in black robes, extended his diseased hands, gasping, breaths crackling. There was wonder in his black eyes.
"I am a man of my word." Kysis brushed past him, not caring that those twisted, gnarled hands brushed against the dirty plates of his armor. There was a promise he had to fulfill. Kysis crossed into the temple without fear, approaching the center of the strange, bluish glass floor. His hand gripped the rod with certainty at first, but then his hands trembled, hesitant. Taking a deep breath, Kysis pulled the rod out, holding it high.
The rest of his companions had come in, keeping back on the balcony. The diseased wardens of the ruins had all filed in, gathered around on the massive temple floor, where they had at one time, ages ago, worshiped. It was time they were released.
"The rod is depleted. Destroy its evil!"
Nothing happened. The silence stretched on, Kysis squeezing his eyes shut, trying not to look at the rod lifted in his hand. He could feel its power seeping in to him, begging to be used one more time. He knew he could destroy that whole temple with a whim, channeling the force of that rod, but he did not, biting hard into his lip.
That was when the man in black spoke up, shouting out the name of the god the temple had once been dedicated to. Amaunator. He was a god of the sun; this place so far below it hardly seemed fitting. Kysis could feel the gathering of power there, though, condensing, until Amaunator's avatar had joined them in that room.
In a split moment, the rod was shattered, pieces vanishing into the air. Kysis breathed a sigh of relief, sinking to his knees. He had never been so glad to rid himself of something before as he was to rid himself of the rod, of its terrible presence. He was trembling all over, a cool sweat giving his skin a sheen. Kysis ran his hands back through his hair, pushing it back from his flushed face. His helmet wasn't on… it was on the floor before him, cast off at some point. Kysis could not recall when.
"Kysis, we need to report this to the Church." Keldorn put a hand on Kysis' shoulder, a fatherly gesture. Kysis stared at the hand for a moment before finally standing, rolling his neck to help take the tension off it. He picked up his helm, replacing it on his head. They did need to return to Helm's followers and break the news.
Hopefully, with the Beholder gone, the Temple District of Athkatla would be able to start the rebuilding process.