This chapter was edited on 6/20/2020
Content Warning: This story contains swearing and descriptions of violence and blood, mention of severe wounds, and light consumption of alcohol. Read at your own discretion.
...
Chapter I: The Release
…
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Well… Steven sure hoped for a comparison. The young man and avid miner was trapped in a cave with a horrid blizzard raging outside. The thoughts of sunshine and warm breezes only fueled the disgruntlement. The door that sealed the entrance was frozen shut and through the tiny barred window was an icy hell that packed against it, trapping the man inside the cave. Even better, the cave wasn't a good mining spot as it was an actual ancient crypt anyways.
Then again, necrorite weren't all that common either. And ancient crypts were usually the best way to find the mineral that seemed to only grow on long-dead calcified corpses. As horrifying as it sounds.
Steven glanced around the small room he was currently trapped in: a boxed off entrance with barren bunk-bed frames lining the far walls, a singular bed on the other side, a crafting station, and a pair of smelting furnaces. If the old man from the mountain village was right, he could find a bit of iron to fix that crumbling anvil in town for the blacksmith.
His feet shuffled on the dusty floor, discolored stone weathered from years of feet trampling its path. The walls and ceiling seem to be in the same state, smoothed and lightly bumpy as he grazed his calloused fingers across the cold dark stone.
Another wail from yonder the door, a howl that begged to crawl into the small room. Infecting the area with its frozen body and a goal to claim any inhabitants by means of hypothermia. Steven shuddered, rubbing his goosebump covered arms as a breeze whisked in and bit into his skin. The miner took careful steps beyond the second door out of the safe house.
Another station, cold, damp, and wide. A tunnel lined with shelves and dotted with dozens of chests and lockers that lead to a light grey iron door that the very sight seemed to force something to crawl up his spine. Rusted spare pickaxes hung on the walls, termite eaten torches scattered in the equally in disrepair chests.
It was a short hall full of supplies. The walls were glittery in ice from what Steven could see in the hall. Strange, but he's seen stranger.
He glanced around again, popping chests and sifting through old tools.
One chest popped with a plume of shimmering dust. Steven squinted and recoiled at the sudden light. Rusted silver lamps encasing a carved chunk of a nether native mineral. Rare and ultimately forgotten in origin as the rifts that lead to the hell-world were destroyed long before his time. Something about trapping an evil spirit thing.
But these are the real deal if he knew what he was talking about. But he concluded that these were Glowstone lamps, something Steven had never seen ever on his own.
Steven leaned down and pulled each lantern from its resting spot. He's read descriptions and seen drawings of the stone. But never had he encountered one before. Well, except for that one geology museum but the quantity was just utterly sad compared to a single lamp that was fairly grasped within Steven's hand. But the subtle shimmers, the dancing flecks every time it moved, the radiance of the hell-born stone.
The mineral could rival the warrior's diamond in beauty and worth, even the magic imbued black diamond in much larger quantities.
Steven shook his head. Focus man!
He shut the chest closed and stuffed one of the lamps into his satchel and pulled another one into his grasp. Steven felt a sensation graze his back again, like the tips of fingers delicately grazing the fibers of his shirt. He whipped around holding an iron pickaxe in a defensive stance, swinging at the air.
Nothing.
But that iron door at the end of the hall.
"It's just the thought of the burials. It's just the nerves of spelunking in a crypt. I'm just being paranoid" Steven muttered audibly to himself.
Yeah… paranoid… that could explain everything, why bother poking around an old crypt that very well could be housing some powerful angry spirits, or a legendary artifact that could end the world, or maybe a mix of that.
The daily troubles of the adventurer, eh?
A once over in his bag again, and he pushed forward to the solid gate. The terrifying strong door. The gateway to a bunch of long-dead calcified bodies and supposedly a ground of miner's last stroke of bad luck. Why did he insist Alex not go with him?
'Stop! Don't have thoughts like that. It'll only make it worse.' Alex would have kicked the living heck out of whatever looked at her weird. From a cool rock formation to probably a priceless artifact, she knows how to keep herself sane.
Steven flicked the switch and the door painfully squealed. Gears turning and hissing inside the walls. The door shuddered. Quietly creaking. It slammed open with a Crash! Steven stumbled back a few steps as the dust hit his face. Swirling balls of debris that floated down towards the deepening crypt.
"Damn." He coughed out.
Up ahead was a warm glowing light down into the belly of the crypt. Hopefully, these new lanterns will only be spares then.
...
It felt like hours… nothing but shelves of embalmed skeletons, strange forever-glowing lanterns, and irregular holes that were once veins of ores and minerals that long have been cleared out. But Steven couldn't push back the fact that every tunnel was filled with priceless artifacts and spectacular frescos and art. Almost a crime to disturb such priceless relics no matter how much he wanted to study the weathered crafts and beautiful architecture of the tools buried with their previous owners.
By morals... and the actual law.
Upon each niche in the wall, paintings depicting an event that pertained to these forgotten people and how they were sent to these shelved graves. Many with simple portraits with the deceased and their master craft, few with happy drunken celebrations, and others a bloody gruesome death. Every time he passed one he couldn't help but forget that he was here to mine, not a history lesson.
It was tunnels, upon hallways, upon rooms, upon grand caverns of this. Walls lined with burial shelves and faded plaques with an ancient lexicon. Cave dwelling fauna radiated with life as vine clung to the ceiling growing taller with every room. Strange and pompous mushrooms radiated glowing auras that outlined the path deeper into the curious crypt.
The stone soon changed from the cold grey to a warm and crusty orange sandy color and texture. A dyed plaster stuck to the walls and cracked over the years. The lamps never stopped as the hallway kept moving ever downward and downward. A small slope with walls becoming more like the color that illuminated it. Deep saturated oranges and reds. And the hallway grew narrow once again, as almost arms width.
But something else was going on as the hall grew cramped. The ceiling lowered to about a foot over Steven's head, (who was easily over six feet in height).
It hit him suddenly like a ravager at full speed.
It was intense, the air thinned and mist blew in front of Steven's face with every breath. Fractals of ice, spreading like veins from a central point splattered on the walls. Each step they occurred more and more. The stale air felt like the blizzard above, water dripping on his bare hands like barely melted ice. It was humid a few steps ago. Warm even from the glow. Even the poor frescos had a glaze from the ice that covered the walls.
Steven hugged his cloak closer to himself. When did it get this cold? He felt cold but at the same time not. There was mist forming around his mouth yet it felt no worse than a chilly breeze. Something was clearly afoot as the fog rolled around his heels at the dip in the hallway; where the path no longer sloped down and became flat and winding side to side.
In the short distance, Steven saw two indents in the tunnel. But not like the splits in the tunnel he passed. It's two small alcoves the closer he drew. But there was something different about them. On one side, the floor was whiter and sleeker, cared for. The other was cracked and dirtied and in immense despair. The walls of the tiny arch of the nice side seemed to be a rotted gold leaf with indents meant for precious stones.
Steven turned to the other side as it's barren and distressed as if it was ripped from its carvings. But it was these frescos that were different. One was pristine while the other was torn, cracked, and destroyed ultimately no image could even be imagined from the scruffs and demolished wall.
Turning on his heels, Steven cocked his head as he took careful steps to the pristine art piece behind him. There seems to be a change in elevation, like for a table or offering altar that did not exist. Strange. The people that live here aren't religious, though maybe the people that lived here once before. But… Steven looked up and stared at his reflection in the icy glaze. A large portrait was behind the ice.
The ice seemed to melt away the longer he stared. It was like looking at a fractal mirror. But the eyes… It appears that the gemstones in place of the irises were stolen, soulless, and empty. An outline of white and grey indents from the stone. The shape was an odd one, the indents were in the shape of a four-pointed star.
He peered closer at the painting.
Steven shuddered as a breeze clawed down his back and bit into the exposed nape of his neck. Creepy. The fresco seemed to mirror his likeness… Steven shook his head again as he stepped away, the chill receding from his shoulders.
Misty swirls blew through Steven's nose as he sighed and pushed away, he gave a glance at the mirrored alcove before moving on.
The crypt's lights began to dim the more he pushed on. And suddenly… the path went straight up into a staircase. The lanterns progressively got a change in brilliance. They seemed to be suppressed in the amount of glow they gave. Tracing fingers against the rough orange-sandy stone, Steven followed the path through the slightly darker.
The stairs proceeded up into a darkness that seemed uncharacteristic of the tomb. Steven looked around the frame of the stairway before eyes settled on a deep black crystal peeking out from one of the shelves. The crystals are thin and long as they grew from their point of spawn. It clicked. He had completely forgotten about mining since he entered the crypt. The Necrorite was stemming from a calcified skull from a skeleton slumped against the wall. The gem was large, bigger than his hand as it was jutting out of the skull's right eye hole.
Must have taken at least fifty years of rotting biological matter, mildew, and moisture for it to increase to that size.
Then thoughts swam back to the man at the village. The mine had been abandoned after a great disaster deep in the stone walls of the crypt. The fatal bad luck of the miner. The man recalled the mine going empty around his sixth birthday as the man's brother supposedly never came home…
Batting away the small anecdote from the tavern, Steven pulled a lamp from his bag. Tapping the stone, it grew brighter as whatever suppressed the rest didn't do it to the one in his hand.
Steven stepped towards the stairs as his hand went past the door the lamp… did it crackle?
'crick… cr-rack…crack!' The stone shuddered.
"The stone's making noise… I don't think it's supposed to do this…" He declared to himself, inching the crackling lantern away from his face.
The stone suddenly shattered in a burst of light. Steven winced and jutted the lamp away at arm's length. But… no pain? No shards digging into his flesh. No toxic powder filtering through his nose. Steven peeked one indigo eye open.
The glowing stone was still intact but a large colored crack split the stone in two. Then it cracked again. To his wonder, the stone seemed to be changing color, not breaking to bits. The warm radiance was crackling and shattering into a warm purple hue like that of a royal robe until the last piece of gold faded. The lantern's light blended into the sparkling luminesce.
That's strange. Never in his life had he ever seen or heard of a purple glowstone. Or glowstone that could change color in the first place. But the material was rare and hardly any tomes exist on its subject. Though many of the sensitive magic users claim that the glowing material was very reactive and sensitive to fluctuations in magic auras. So there's that.
But those deep indigo eyes widened at the spectacle. The new magenta radiance reflected onto his tan skin. He carefully inched the lamp closer to him to peer at the purple lamp. Steven's focus trailed back to the staircase and the murky darkness it led up to.
The orange-sandy plaster ended at the staircase and changed to intricate carvings on cold plain stone. Mini icicles forming on the undersides of the decorative shelves.
The stairs were slick with ice as his cloak trailed behind him. Fingers tracing the walls as the lantern was held arm's length into the darkness. Then came a shrouded hallway. So dark not even the lantern could penetrate the deep shadows lurking around him.
Steven cautiously tiptoed down the corridor, fearing whatever he may encounter in the sudden darkness. But not a sound came. No rattle of a reanimated skeleton, to the mournful moan of the living dead. Not even a gurgle of an End-dwelling humanoid.
Just silence.
Peaceful, unnerving silence.
The hallway split into three as the forward-facing corridor only widened while the other two broke left and right expectedly. The hallway to the right was Steven's first choice, but getting only a few meters deep to find a landslide with a few skeleton bones sticking out from the ancient debris. Some still had their picks in hand. Old fellow miners who had hit the unlucky strike. Probably what the old man had told him a while back.
Steven knelt before the mound and gave a silent prayer, showing respect and good wishing to any spirits bound to these forgotten and improperly buried corpses. Respect to old and fellow miners, willing to risk their lives for materials to aid those consumers who will buy them.
A feeling of serenity passed through his chest.
"Blessings, by whoever above may lift your souls to a better place. May the aether watch you." Steven whispered as he backed away from the mound.
Never turn your back on an unblessed grave. Adventurer's superstition passed down from wandering adventurer to apprentice. Yet not a single bone twitched or moved. No shuddering or clanking. Just silence as Steven neared the end of the hallway. Steven's eyes darted from either side before coming to a conclusion.
So left path it is then.
...
This hall was different. Tattered tapestries somehow remained hung on the walls yet their artistry long faded, moth-eaten, and frayed. Carvings of trees and gardens passed Steven in his pursuit of curiosity. His lantern showed graffiti of runes in a line across the lower part of the walls in decoration. Mythic era writing in the way the runes exist in perfect geometry of squares, triangles, and straight lines. He was trailing into an endless path of this.
He recognized a few symbols translating the best as some magic ritual shortly after a great calamity. Something like that.
Soaking in every detail and carving of this perfectly preserved specimen. Then, Steven stumbled into the doorway of the second chamber, he wasn't exactly aware of the door. As he peered inside behind the door-frame, narrow-tall boxes lined in rows that framed the path forward to… something.
Shelves by the look of it.
Further in the room, boxes turned to ruined books that lined the walls as reminisce of a carpet strewn on the floor. Lifting his lamp, its magenta glimmer unearthed a table. Upon closer inspection, the carvings resembled that of twirling grapevines and feathered birds in its dark wood.
A thick layer of dust resided, centuries-old, and practically solidified. A cracked granite table top sported some objects of interest as the carpet, long and thin, trailed all the way from the archway to the table. Behind the table was an elegant chair, and stacks of undisturbed books and scrolls.
Steven rounded the table and brought the lamp onto the desk surface. He nudged the chair to the side and pushed a layer of dust off the surface. In the lamplight, a few elegantly carved vases, and a single dark wood black box sat upon the surface. He could see his reflection in the polish of the sun wooden box.
Dark and rich, gold filigree curled at the corners and shaped the latch that held the box closed.
Curiosity got the better of him.
Gingerly, Steven guided the box closer to him and flicked the latch open. The lamp was pulled closer. The faint white shine reflected into Steven's eyes as they widened in excitement.
Two diamonds. Two flawless diamonds. Two flawless diamonds carved expertly into two stars with four points. Something made for the background of a compass. They were small and delicate, no bigger than two or three centimeters big. But they held an aura he couldn't explain. The faintly shined as fractals projected onto his face.
Not even the deep magenta of the strange glowstone lamp corrupted the pure white clarity on the gleam of the diamond.
Steven slowly inched a finger closer, the gleaming precious gems entrancing his mind. Blurring everything around the vicinity. All focus in the room was trained on those two sparkling pure gems. Never had he ever seen diamonds so white and clear. Right as a finger was about to graze the surface, a feeling shot up his spine. There it is again, the biting chill harassing his bare skin. The cold chill reaching up to his ear as he stood there, frozen in fear.
The cold felt animalistic and threatening. Icy claws dug into his shoulder as Steven was paralyzed from sudden fear.
The cold, the aura… it growled…
Steven snapped the box closed and took the lamp, discarding anything else in the chamber. Those diamonds. This crypt. Something was here. Something was guarding this place. And Steven isn't the kind to seek to anger a spirit of any kind. He sprinted out of the room as his breaths came ragged and forced. Anxiety and panic crawled into his veins and washed a cold feeling all over his chest and he booked it down a hall, not even bothering to check which way he was going.
Steven took a sharp turn to the path he believed was to the stairs. To his luck, a glow splayed onto the floor, a small doorway in the near distance leading down. Right as he was about to make it to the light from the staircase, something seized his neck and yanked him to the floor. He yelped. The thing walked right past and blocked the door. Staring at him. Steven felt shadows of the claws that dug into his neck, lingering imprints that turned hot with pain. Sore enough to bruise. The creature clacked its sharp nails together, warbling sharp claws.
Within the ringing of his ears as his head clipped against the ground, a gurgle. A mangled speech. Steven stared at the long ebony legs in front of him. The purple lamp a few feet away illuminated the rest of the creature. Steven kept his eyes to the floor, and slowly crawled to his lamp. The creature murmured a question. An End-dwelling creature loomed over his cowering body.
It chatted a question that sounded more of a demand.
Steven grabbed his lamp and dashed in the other direction. The creature hissed and squawked in confusion. Past the two halls, Steven ran. The corridor widened to a great degree. Shadows of unlit lamps hung on the walls as Steven passed them, his own jangling wildly in his grip. More creatures in his peripheral vision, but only actual shadows, white pinpricks of eyes blinking and waiting. Each group waggled their heads in curiosity as Steven sprinted past them, ignoring the pain in his shoulder.
He pushed further. The creature squawking and gurgling angrily behind him. Steven could hear the swipes whistle in the air as the creature reached for him.
The shadows tried to swarm him, but the light kept each and every one of those things at bay.
A light.
The shadows began to recede that wasn't from the purple lamp. A doorway. A wide arch that reached from the top of the corridor to each side. A dark murky mist seeped out from the archway and into the light, dissolving in seconds and tendrils came in constant streams but never made it far. Steven almost cried a laugh in relief. He didn't bother seeing the path ended at the opening.
All he saw was light.
And that light was all he cared about.
A light to scare away this creature.
The Enderman wailed from behind him. It's guttural speech echoing through the hall as panicked chattering closely followed. Those mauve reptilian eyes, fuming and concerned.
Steven dashed through the opening. But promptly fell. His feet missed every step as he tumbled down the flight of stairs. Wisps of the shadow mists curling around his feet and tumbling down alongside him as it dissipated. His cloak wrapping around his figure as he came crashing down to the floor.
His head hit hard. His eyes a blur and blood on his forehead. The lamp next to his eyes twirled into painful twos and threes. He couldn't move. He refused to move. Everything hurt too much. His skull throbbed.
The enderman came peeking out of the archway and saw the man laying on the floor. Unmoving. The enderman huffed, grumbling a curse in its native language. Shaking its head, it disappeared into the shadows. Flickering of purple dust in its wake.
...
Steven came too only a second later. He lolled his head to the other side to see the steps in which he tumbled down. He squinted his eyes. The stairs… They are a cloudy white with black veins running among the hazy stone. Marble. With a red streak dripping with blood where his head had clipped against the stair's edge.
Steven lifted a hand to touch where his forehead had been cut. He hissed as the fingertips came back covered in blood, one that slowly leaked down his face.
Steven pushed himself up, groaning in pain. He inspected his arms and hands, barely any scratches but welts and bruises dotted his body. Save for the lesion on his forehead. Steven could see his pick had dislodged from his belt and his satchel tossed nearby.
With a limp, he scooped up his bag and climbed the steps back for his trusty pick. Headache throbbing bad, he dug through his satchel for a healing ointment.
A potion, small bandaging, and little other things, he was okay. Satisfied with the bandaging, he looked up.
All the pain was ignored as his jaw dropped.
Eyes widening, breathless at the expanse before him. A warbled beauty deformed with the claws of time. The expanse of the cavern was larger than any castle he's seen. From the vaulted ceiling, cracks and holes filtered through the arches as vines, ivy, and moss blankets and hung from the holes.
White peaceful light filtered through the openings, shedding light the rolling mists around the creek that encircled the floor. A light mist fogged the distance as it rolled about near the creek.
From the steps he tumbled down, a long straight path of grey stones, mossy, and weathered. The path was intercepted by a gurgling creek, trickling by. A small stone bridge slightly arched over the water and the path shot forward a good sixty meters before climbing up to an elevated platform. Steven squinted his eyes to see the marvelous architecture, the detail, but it's too far away.
Excitement filled his curious heart. He trotted forward with a limp, pick bouncing off his side, lantern held high, though its glow couldn't overpower that of what could be the natural sun. He viewed the walls as he passed. Detailed sculptures of warriors, mages, and people of the like with great forgotten names. Mounds of debris formed miniature hills on the grey brick floor, gravel tossing tiny plumes of just as every gentle breeze.
The scent of the creek and flowing air was fresh in Steven's lungs. It could almost let him ignore the aches in his legs and the pounding in his head. Welcoming. But it's not unbearably freezing like the blizzard he saw previously. Magic had to be at work, but he wasn't complaining. It was the freshness of a common forest, with towering stone pillars instead of craggy brown bark. Hanging vines and spiraling ivy tendrils instead of waving leaves. Moss snuggling in the cracks instead of sweet dewy grass.
A sense of home in a foreign place. His nerves relaxed as his wonder took flight. A place he's never even thought of before, why did it feel so familiar?
"It was nice of you to bless those miners." A deep voice resounded across the area. More of it was loud enough and echoed like it was across the area but only felt the vibrations in his head. A melancholy tone in the hoarse vibrations. Like a gravelly sandpaper rubbing in his ear, tiny barbs echoing in his mind.
"The miner's fickle luck, per se?"
The muscles in Steven's body seized with a painful vigor. His aching head throbbed harder as the last echoes of the voice sent instinctual panic through his veins. He whipped around, tired indigo eyes wide and scanning the vast man-made area, the pointless lantern swaying with every jerk.
"Wh-who are you?"
"For now, I am nothing but a voice to you. But you have something that does belong to me, yet it is not in your presence."
"Cryptic but alright..." Steven swallowed at the disembodied voice's words.
The voice gave a tired and rough chuckle, "Those white diamonds, they do not belong in that prison of a box, nor kept in your pocket either for the warning. I ask a simple request. For you to replace those diamond stars to their original homes… It would give me some peace of mind."
"But, what about that enderman? I sure as... I doubt that one will even let me back into the dark place. And how do I know this isn't a trap? Suddenly walking into a large cavern-church-thing with engravings talking about a banished entity and then a 'spirit' starts talking to me?"
The feeling of pins and needles digging through his skin and into his head overwhelmed his senses within an instant. Steven fell onto a knee, clutching his head. He felt no pain, yet he was helpless under this spell. He coughed out air and struggled to take any in. The voice came thundering and present.
"You are right to be wary, but I never fiddle with such trivial games! Look around and see, had I really wanted to be rid of you you would have been dead before you even set foot in these caves. Had you been a threat, you would have wound up like those troublesome miners a while back."
Steps resounded from in front of him, heavy footsteps like a sentinels march. The mentioning of the miners only fueled a sense of extreme wariness and distrust. But the footsteps felt to have stopped near his cowering form.
Steven peered his eyes up to see what thing could have an effect like this, but the force only reigned down on him harder forcing his head to bow. Effectively strangling him from the air.
"I exert my hold in this plane to make sure nobody gets past those stairs, and yet you walk through perfectly fine. Yet you could even see through the mirage I had placed on it. The creature I ensnared couldn't sense you till you stepped into the dark. Those others that dared swarm you fled from your presence. You baffle me. You prove that you are different. But I ask a simple request, see to it that it was completed." The voice recedes as the pressure was alleviated from Steven's head.
"Not much of a request than a command with the risk of my life on the line- Ow!" A pebble bounced off his head as a grey figure dissolved in his peripheral vision.
Steven sighed with a sneer. Was this some sort of ancient locked spirit of an old noble? Some petty man-child that leeched off his father's property and money? Or maybe an actual ancient sentinel that got too snarky and was bound to protecting this crypt with the rest of his existence. Bastard thinks he can command any living thing to bow to his every whim.
Ha! Once I'm done with this thing, I'm gone! I doubt that this spirit thing infesting this place was benevolent enough to let me live after this. If I cause the next Armageddon after this thing sends me into the next plane of existence, it's not my problem. Those bastards up in their pristine castles, eating all their cake, was the reason why I don't have any family. So why should I bother? Wait... what was I originally complaining about again?
Then it came into his vision. He hadn't realized he was in the dark, without a lamp. He could hear the gurgling of the creature as it kept clear from Steven's path.
A faint red light barely penetrating the murkiness. The only torch he's seen in the area. It glowed red, like an oxygen-starved flame on the verge of dying. The flame flickering a lethargic dance. Yet shimmered a saturated blood-red powder each time its coal was covered in this deep red substance that Steven couldn't put his finger on. Still small as flames were, it consumed the weird rock bit by bit.
"So, the air was thinner than I thought." Steven thought out loud, turning into the pathway, "And suddenly a light that appeared out of nowhere, yup, no warning signs going off here. None at all!"
Steven retraced his steps and entered the small chamber. Just as he imagined, another oxygen-deprived, dying kindling. But it had a lump of normal coal in the clutched of the torch. A beacon on the altar where Steven found the container. The torch gleaming against the dark wooden box and the white marble.
Gingerly, the box was lifted from the surface and placed in his bag. Steven extinguished the oxygen-deprived torch and left the room to bask in darkness once again. Who knows who else might be lurking in those shelves.
"What now, what now..." Steven pondered to himself, "To return them to their proper home... now, where could that... oh." The alcove, that little niche! Within the painting were two indents the shape of stars with four points! Wow, he was doing great today...
Retracing even more steps, the corridor narrowed and pointed to the staircase which now retreated down. The strange hue of the magenta light returned to his vision as the old lanterns warmed back to the yellow returned to his sight.
The alcove was nearby.
Familiar passages and marks pointed to the new destination. The presence of the starry diamonds in his satchel gave Steven a tightening in his chest, heart struggling to beat faster. He could hear it pounding in his head. Each step caused the pounding to grow ever more severe.
Why the anxiety? It's just two perfect diamonds being placed into some holes in this wall. An otherworldly being asking for a small favor. The thoughts jumble in his mind, each one bumping into the other as they wind and twist together. None fit the puzzle he tried to make.
The niche was right in front of his face. Steven blinks. Those empty hollow eyes of the painting staring right into his soul. The icy varnish receded as the young man inches closer.
With a shaky hand, the box was lifted out of the satchel and popped open with a click. One hand holding the box, the other lifting the flawless diamond stars from the old red velvet bed and placing them into the fresco. Like a magnet, it popped into the dedicated carvings.
One.
Two.
The boxed was flipped closed as the diamonds glimmered, almost warmly from the painting's eyes. A quiet thanking.
A pleased hum resonated from the painting, "Thank you, kind adventurer, for giving ease to an old soul." The painting's film began to shimmer and warp like an iridescent varnish was peeling from the original painting, flowing like waves in the purple lantern light. The voice in the painting groaned and grunted as if waking from a centuries-old slumber. The shimmering veil wavered and ripples at every sound. Yeah, not some spoiled royal brat chained to some crypt.
Where's the holy water and a demon-spirit banishing kit for beginners when you need one?
"It has been a long time since I've made contact with an altar." The voice in the painting sighed happily. The coarseness, the strangled vibrations rejuvenated, healthier, "You may continue your quest, miner. There exists a volley of empty caves farther ahead from the central atrium. If that is what you are questing for. Most are unexplored and filled with many rare materials. I'll see that you are guided there properly."
Steven nodded as the iridescent glaze over the painting sunk back down and the crystals solidified into the painting. The prescience of another had vacated the vicinity and Steven was left truly alone again in the crypt. The cold leaving him alone. His mind begged for the option of leaving, he did too. But that wasn't happening apparently.
Quota still needs to be met.
...
Steven stood in front of an arch. A doorframe the being in the way spoke of he believed. The shadows swirled within again, shying away from the light yet a strange unnatural darkness, not even his new lamp could pierce.
The caves, the minerals, the feeling of shockwaves as his pick crashed down into the stone and yanking it away to collect the treasure locked behind the earth. His hands tremble with excitement at the idea of finding something new. Maybe a cool trinket, or a rare rock, maybe even…
The young miner's deep indigo eyes wandered from the entrance into the lower caves to the current surroundings. Those lively eyes trail to each statue elegant, each vaulted arch in the ceiling, each waving ivy, each slab of glistening marble, all the way to the tower.
A solid block surrounded by intricately carved pillars made of marble. Upon the largest base was an array of smaller pillars and indents that look to be of water channels, and at the top was a railing and something behind that. All connected by a long staircase up.
His eyes squinted at the tower, four columns that rose from the floor and shot up, clinging to the ceiling. Each column base was a carved statue representing a race. A human, an aetherian, an enderman, and a netherian. At least what he remembered being depicted in the research he conducted. Mainly mythology he believed.
Each base figure held up the second section of the pillars on their heads and they looked down. Hands cupped in front of them, as they looked forward with a thousand-yard stare. Each supported corner of the solid block of stone carved with other creatures and people frozen in place in their frolicking.
Steven's focus was drawn closer to the strange altar-like tower. In the middle those four columns, on top of that solid slab of stone, a thing. A stark contrast to the white marble and lighter pallet grand chamber. It was dark, a gleam of purple and blue from the natural light filtering down from the cracked vaulted ceilings.
The miner turned tails to the deep murkiness that begged him to return, but his own conscious ignored its plea as his own entrancement pulled him towards the slab of stone, and to the stairs that trailed up to its top. Every little hair on the back of his neck urged him away.
But his heart spoke otherwise: if he was going to die today, might as well fill it with adventure.
Steven drew closer, standing at the foot of the white marble stairs. The black object, strange in its nature. He swore he heard it call his name. A yellow glint reflected into his eyes. He saw the black object has a curve and an empty space in the middle the longer he stared.
A large ring of sorts?
The strange ring seemed to beckon him from the platform it sat on. Steven judged it to be at least thirty feet from the ground. The grand figures in the columns in perfect detail. On top of those grand columns rose thinner pillars that rose to the ceiling where a chain connected at the very top, remains of a rusted and decayed chandelier hung. Tattered banners and moth-eaten silk draped hung from the thinner pillars. Animals and saints carved into the banister of the elevated platform.
All undisturbed.
Inspecting each weathered carving, Steven rose up step by step. Moss blanketed almost every inch and ivy clung and flowed down the sides of the banisters. Cautiously testing each stair before moving up. Then, at the top. Steven stepped onto the marble surface, a marvelous sight before him.
A ring made of stones, as black as the void itself. Shimmering deep blues and purples from the inner side before fading to a black on the outside. Gold trimmings branched from the thick golden base and held each shard in place. Despite the wear of the entire cavern it was housed in. The void black ring of stones and gold which held it together was in pristine condition. Even better than the painting of the spirit that asked for a simple favor.
The artifact. It called to him. A force that was his own mind compelled the young man to push forward. Entrancing was the black stone and the gleaming gold. Worn hand centimeters from the surface. A shadow upon the stone.
The lantern fell from his grasp and rolled. Steven did not even flinch as the metal clanked against the ground. His eyes are tied to the strange artifact. A mystifying buzz in the back of his mind, drowning out all other senses. A recurring theme as this aura held his attention like no other, not even those diamonds. He felt drawn, a familiarity he couldn't place.
Fingers grazed.
The feeling of ghostly hands seized him.
A bust of power long decayed suddenly flowed through his body. Steven yelped. Shaking him straight to core as the power clung around his heart, the home of his soul. The organ beating faster. Tension coiling around his chest. Struggling to fight what force was seeping into his very being. Panic filling his mind. The young man saw images, memories, flashed within his mind. The force was sizzling on his skin, an electric current through his body. It burned. It hurt. He felt as if he was dying.
Steven fought against the force and broke away from the ring. Scowling at the spirit who called the artifact it's home. Panting. Oh so heavily panting. Or at least the source of… whatever was living here. Steven leaned down and shakily picked up his lamp, the purple shining beautiful against the void-like stone, and clipped it to his belt.
He glared darkly, trembling from the aftershock. Those flashes translating to words. The spirit from before, this was where it's housed. It's a point of total power. The bastard itself. The image of those white eyes burned into his head.
"I know who you are now." He stated. The being inside the artifact was silent for a second. Then the chills from before returned and brought swirling fog out of every breath. The presence clinging to his cloak, a hold to commune with the living.
"And who, that is, I am?" Returned the voice from the painting, a mischievous undertone to the once depressed crow of the voice. Steven straightened his back and mimicked a snarl on his lips.
"You are a being of the mist. Spawning from the brine of the ocean fog, you are the being that came with a purpose. You are a guardian, a natural-born protector of the realm of the Nether. You are a being fickle in amusement but determined in your purpose. Though many claim you have strayed from your purpose to fulfill a different nature." Steven concluded the history lesson with a cold and unwavering poise.
He was so terrified.
Where did this confidence come from?
The voice sighed, half in relief, half in exasperation. Steven trained his eyes back onto the jet black rim. The distortion in the air evident within the interior of the ring. A distortion in reality only a powerful entity can create.
"You are well informed, young man. Much more than any other in this realm. The tales in my name have been long warped and twisted to fulfill the gaps in natural accidents and folktale's glory. This God's purpose is as fickle as their 'amusement' is. Their nature is as it is intended to be."
"I can suppose this is a portal. A nether portal. Yours perhaps?"
"Correct, the last of its kind. It would please me to see it once again active." Responded the disembodied voice.
"To set you free."
"Give or take."
"And what was this about traps... or games?"
"You want to be lectured again? Activate this portal, and I won't cause this entire place to cave and drag your soul into the nether myself."
Steven shook his head and traced his fingers over the sharp edge of the obsidian. A war in his head. Battles as contrasting thoughts. He can't believe the small thought in his mind that wanted to help.
His gut twisted.
He was torn between keeping people safe, and honoring his own moral law. Someone called for help, he wanted to help.
Arg! Blast his wretched heart and damn its fragility!
Something wants him to help this hidden demon, yet his instinct was begging him to run. Something in the back of his mind egged him on to humor the demon, that maybe it could be beneficial.
Steven leaned closer to the portal frame. Each shard of the magma glass touches in some sort of way, yet carved finely in each curve. Steven hummed and pleasantly scrutinized the dimension connector's artistic qualities. He admired the golden trimming that held each shard in place. The quality of work that allowed the stone and metal to remain in such good condition. He was fascinated on how the gold trimming (again) held each obsidian shard to touch each other to form the large ring.
"You are trapped either in or behind-"
"Half and half." The God interrupted.
Steven cleared his throat as he started again, "... so how are you able to... you know... make the temperature drop and touch me with your icy cold... things?"
The being in the portal emitted an aura that felt like a shrug, "I am in a spectral form, so weak that not even the most acute can sense my existence. But the natural decay in ancient magic has let me stretch my legs a little within this dimension. Yet, I'll never be truly free to exist without the barrier."
Steven felt another trance in the back of his mind. He concluded it was the interference of the entity behind the portal trying to either get him killed and chase him away, "But… how do I even open it?" As of now? It feels like it's trying to contain him.
There goes another cold chill down his spine, the invisible force curling non-existent fingers around his left arm and another taking a gentle hold of his chin. The cold force turned his head to the multitude of chests behind him. The cold was more present than before. The fog became thicker in his face.
"It eludes me that the craft of transversing dimensions has faltered through the eras. This portal requires the main element of its destination to open."
A rude though popped up in the back of his mind. Steven shushed the sarcastic comment before asking: "And what would that be?"
"Fire."
Steven, not wanting to fight an old and forgotten bastard- AHEM, otherworldly being, swallowed as he nodded along. Either follow the orders given, or risk discovering the true extent of the being's powers.
He stepped away from the risen portal and trotted down the steps. The coldness leaving him. The war was over. The decision has been made. Though it seems that maybe this isn't exactly his will.
"How am I not surprised." Steven scoffed to himself.
Steven paused before the chests and began rummaging for a striker. Chest after chest, it appears that each container had been long since ransacked and replaced with dust and dirt. He sighed and plopped his rear near the creek-bed. The strange natural lights from above twinkling the ripples in the flowing water.
There, a glint. A dull darkened reflection underneath the light-colored gravel which polluted the stream. Rolling up his sleeves he plunged his hand into the water and fished out the rock. Minuscule fish and small water-dwelling critters fled from his hand as he reached deeper into the muddy gravel. Just as he suspected, a fine shard of flint, worn to a perfect roundness from the water.
He yanked out of the water, but it slipped. It was like juggling a slimy rock… he was pretty much juggling a slimy rock that refused to stay in his grasp. With his cloak, he grabbed the rock and rubbed the algae off.
Steven peered up and squinted at the ceiling. Sure enough, mounds of compressed rocks and dust hung overhead, compressed so tight it refuses to budge from its elevation. One echo and the whole ceiling may cave in on him. Steven wiped the flint dry on his cloak and dropped the rock into his bag.
Where would he get steel... oh... his pick. Untangling the tool from his belt, Steven gave the rock a few test strikes. As expected, sparks flew from the friction and dazzled onto the stone before dying as quickly as it came. Humming triumphantly to himself.
Steven paraded up to the portal. The cold air stayed at arm's length, yet the presence never leaving its focus on the young adventurer and the event that will take place. The feeling of non-existent eyes boring into his back.
He raised his pick and raised the flint. Taking a drawn breath, the flint came crashing on the steel. Sparks flew and pattered against the stone. Nothing happened. Steven tried again. And against. Nothing was lighting the portal. It wouldn't catch.
Steven noticed the small film of moisture upon the portals frame, the coldness a deep contrast to the humid air around it. The trickling water nearby doesn't help either.
"The sparks. Th-they are too weak... I think. There's too much moisture it won't catch." The presence faded, leaving a malevolent itch on Steven's consciousness.
'Great,' he grumbled in his head, 'I have now disappointed a grand being known for his anger issues and murderous personality.' And Steven waited. For a boulder to suddenly come crashing down, a stray creature of the night to come and plunge an arrow to his heart, that… tall creature to come back and thwap him on the head, a sudden wave of nausea to disorient him, a force that will push him over the edge of the banister and break his neck upon impact, a diamond pickaxe in the back.
But nothing came.
Steven opened his eyes. Nothing, the expanse of the large chamber was untouched and as it was. Steven does not like the sudden retreat of the presence, it left him empty.
And then it hit him.
'Bloody bastard was using me and clouding my judgment to activate this portal. Whatever hex that was that he could use to wreak havoc on the mortal world again.'
Steven paused for a response to his rhetorical question. A bitter taste in the back of his mouth was the best way to explain this encounter. But an inkling still lingered out of curiosity.
'Guess so...'
Steven turned and sighed, dragging his feet down the stairs. Past the column, through the earthen depression for a path, over the bridge of the creek, and... wait a second... Steven turned on his heels and stared at the chests. Wooden chests. Heavily termite eaten wooden chests. Wood equals fire. Fire equals opening that damn portal.
Bounding over the creek and skidding to a halt in front of the old chests. Steven unsheathed his pick and rammed it down on a chest, splinters flying everywhere. The sharp edge of the steel pick coming down, again and again. The chest cracked more with every swing. The chest finally broke into dozens of shards and jagged fragments. Splinters dispersing across the floor. Taking a large portion of a fragment, Steven gathered more and more and dashed up to the portal. He dropped all the wood shards and made his way back into the series of hallways.
An inkling came back and his eyes began to burn. An energy was bubbling in his chest as his speed picked up. Chills ran down his spine as goosebumps covered his skin. His boots hitting the floor echoed through the cavern and the halls.
Sprinting, his breath, his heart pounding, sharp turn into the room. The empty space where the dark box once held two diamond stars and the extinguished torch still standing next to it. Steven snagged the torch and tracked his way back to the open chamber.
Steven raced up the staircase to the portal. He skidded to a halt as he hesitated in front of the portal. A force urged him on, tensing his muscles to move forward, to open the portal. A cloud of curiosity, the best way to explain, welling up in his chest as his aching legs numbed.
Steven was panting, drenched with sweat as he held the extinguished torch in one hand and the flint in the other. Deep breaths, steady your heart. Steven leaned the torch against the base of the portal. Pickaxe ready, Steven knelt down and began striking. Sparks flew at the torch and a small flame ignited, then it quickly consumed the entire torch.
Laughing to himself, Steven took the torch and held it to the fragments of the wooden chest. A red glow as brown turned to cracked charcoal. The torch pushed farther into the kindling. Small crackling came from the pile.
Out rose a yellow flickering light. Spontaneously the entire pile burst into a flower of heated reds, oranges, and yellows. Steven was taken aback at the sudden expanse of the flame.
He tossed the torch into the fire.
Then... the flames turned into a bright purple inferno. Expanding in size. Steven stepped back as the flames crawled from the center pile up to encase the entire inner circle of the frame. A smaller ring of fire inside the ring of shining dark iridescent stone.
A single black dot rose to the center as the flames reached for the center dot. Flickers from the bottom looking up, flickering from the top reaching down, same thing for the round sides. The flames increased in size as they reached for the center. Small flickers of dusty purple mist shot from the crackling fire.
The frame itself started changing. In between the cracks and void spaces of the dark shards of what Steven guessed was tempered obsidian, a glowing red liquid seeped into those voids, starting from the inner circle then branching out. From the base of the portal, the same liquid filled the lines, then those carvings made sense.
The glowing liquid followed the predetermined crevices and flowed to the sides before disappearing over the edges into a waterfall of red. Heat radiated off the liquid, Steven began sweltering just by standing near the portal. Magma…
From the distance looking towards the tower. The magma ran like water. The water drained quickly as the channels were filled with the running lava. From the tower, the lava running in between the obsidian plates drained below, filling the channels and flowing further, the statues began to bleed the lava from their cupped hands as it poured into the larger streams below.
Their eyes radiated magic as red beams came from each pair of eyes from the statues. Old magic lanterns sparked to life as they returned to pristine condition. A magic spell was at work as years of decay slowly ate away into renewal in a clear circle around the tower.
"Ah!" Cried the young man as white flashed his vision and an explosion blew his body away from the portal. His head spun and every drowned out of focus. He quickly fell to his knees before the portal. Energy taking his strength and balance.
He felt something toying with his mind. Like an energy seeping into his body. A fire that blazed through his veins as a light blinded him.
Stinging of burns and dust that cling to his fresh wounds. Throat exposed. Loud sounds of something collapsing, The crackling of the stone around growing even more unstable, the rush of water, and the sizzling of the lava dripping from the portal filled his ears. Everything he touched was numb, unregistering to his body. Body still in shock, eyes burning as a headache formed across his entire skull and the bright lights that consumed him. Dust blew into his face with every breath. It felt like it was being into him and stealing it at the same time.
Resounding steps came from before him. The direction of the portal. Each one sending jolts of pain down his body and through his pounding head. The young man whimpering in pain. He wasn't prepared. He wasn't prepared for this. It felt like his soul was being sucked out of his body every second.
The footsteps stop right by his head. The presence in the cold was near. Fog envelopes his body. The air dropped in temperature as Steven shudders painfully. But the presence, it feels real. A bright light filled his eyes no matter how tightly he squeezed his eyes closed. The bright light won't fade as it strengthens in brilliance.
He fell backward and clips on the edge of the top step. His hair began to mat with blood. Slowly the red drips down the step and pools in the cracks. He should feel pain, the burning heat? Where did it go?
The pain which racked his body melted away, the pounding in his head became nothing more than a numb memory. Steven cracked open a single indigo eye at the prescience. A brilliant white and intense shine. Steven painfully squeezed his eyes close again at the light, painful shivers returning.
"See who your kindness has foolishly saved." The voice proclaimed, more present than before. Its voice commanding, healthy, human almost, conniving, and physical. Steven couldn't move. He just groaned. He felt a warm hand coil around his exposed neck and his body be lifted.
Yet he could breathe freely.
"It appears I have stolen your strength." The voice gave a cruel chuckle.
'no shit'
Steven's feet dragged as he was lifted, to the point he couldn't reach the ground. He peeked his eyes open again, and felt no pain. He gazed upon the figure that stood before him. His words were stuck in his throat as he stared, jaw tense, as he was held up by the throat. Steven's own hands instinctively clamped down on the wrist that held him captive.
Steven dared looked at the entity, but blinding whiteness like the sun sent pain into his eyes.
The crackle of lightning filled the air. Steven could feel the static putting the hair on his neck on edge. The light returned and Steven flinches away, turning his head and squeezing his eyes further closed.
As the light went down, Steven peeked his eyes open. There. His mirror image. The figure stood on the cracked marble. His face but sharper, his beard but fuller, his hair but sleeker, his body but stronger, his clothes but dirtier. And the figure opened its eyes. Shining white stared back, mystical and blinding. But not his eyes...
"A sign of status if I may. A showing of magical prowess and strength." The figure had a gesture to his eyes, "I am indebted to you, for showing kindness when you knew full well who you were communing with."
"But… why my f-fa-" Steven's throat constricted for a quick second.
The entity only smirked in reply. The aura surrounding Steven's body grew thicker and more prominent. He couldn't move. Steven's heart raced as the being only glared. He tried twisting, writhing out of the hold. But he was paralyzed in midair. Those haunting eyes trained, no burning right into his own.
The miner opened his mouth to speak. But the being clenched tighter, choking Steven of his words and looked away, down at the floor. Dark brown hair, mirror to his but significantly longer, tousling in a weak draft.
Silence.
Steven closed his dry mouth. Heart beating faster, shivers suffocating his lungs. Steven blinked. And the being was gone and so was the hold on his throat.
Gravity regained its hold on his body. Steven crashed down on the floor, hacking his lungs out, pushing himself to his hands and knees. His breath slowly steadied. Then, a sharp edge tapped his back. A blade. The anxiety returned. Steven twitched forward, the edge dug deeper into his back.
"You are foolish."
Steven felt tears prick into his eyes. He should have followed his instincts. Steven let his body sag and leaned on the side of his hip. Right as he thought the being was gone, he let down his guard and the demon took a larger hold of his mind. The Demigod isn't finished.
"-to even enter the cursed catacombs. Have you ever heard the tales that lurk about this ruin? Why was I ever chained to this place and locked behind that portal? The 'crimes' I supposedly committed against your people? I must continue my work but... I no longer have that taste for blood... yet. But, you are foolish. What if I was a malevolent entity? A poltergeist of chaos?"
Steven felt something bubbling deep inside him, a pressure that threatened to erupt like a boiling geyser into the air. Not even the blade at his back could shake his words. He began to laugh.
"Didn't you just describe yourself? A malevolent force, existing to bring chaos? One who declares anything with a sense of kindness an imbecile? Am I foolish? Or am I just being too kind to the ungrateful being that asked for help? Even if my help was forced upon me without my consent?"
The God was taken aback. Yet, he could hear the mortal's heart beating faster than a rabbit's. The rapid inhales as he leaned only an inch further. There was a glare in those indigo irises. The Demigod shook his head, an evil smirk upon its face. He tightened his hold on his glistening blade, pressing it deeper. The young adventurer yelped. The demigod struck red.
"You do not understand what you have done, and to have the gall to even dare speak to me like that?"
Steven wished to glare at the Demigod at his back. The being that stole his face, save for the eyes. With his heart beating in his ears and the rapid inhales, Steven shook his head. Defiance seeded in his nervous heart.
"If you say I'm foolish, an idiot, why do you still speak to me? A lowly mortal beneath your status? Why bother caring if I won't be around for Armageddon?" Steven mocked. The Demigod growled. He was growing irate. This time, Steven was the one who wasn't finished.
"-then what's it you'll do when you let my blood coat your blade? Will you continue your rampage of old? Will you seek repentance? Will thousands more die by your crumbling hands? Or will you fulfill your purpose in being the guardian of the fog or whatever the shit it was? If you do wish to be different and repent, how will killing me make you different from the old you? Wouldn't it only kick you farther from the light? Or are you too far gone?"
Steven could feel the Demigod flinch with every word. Like a drop of acid into an open wound.
"And what's this about me being different, the one who could push past your facade and survive that creature you put in the shadow area." The air grew thicker with tension as the demigod seethed. He felt the cold blade leave his back and prepared for the penetration. The kill. The end of his pitiful, altruistic heart. Steven held his breath.
But nothing.
The air was still.
Other than his strained heartbeat, the huffing and growling of the demigod filled the room. Footsteps circled to the front of the young adventurer. Steven couldn't help but smile with furrowed brows. A prodding smile. Tempting the demigod to make a move.
To prove his point.
A stalemate. The demon refused to move. Steven refused to move. The longer the two glared, the surrounding area becomes insufferable to breathe. Suffocating even. The demon glared at the young man sitting on his knees below him.
"Then what are you going to do?" Steven sneered.
Fractions of seconds, Steven felt the hand seize his neck and constrict once again. He coughs out any air trapped in a panic yet couldn't bring more in. Steven squirmed as the demon lifted the young man by his neck till his feet barely scraped the ground.
He smirked.
Not so tough now?
Steven continued to kick and struggle. Clawing at the iron fist that held him such a weak position. Tears welled up in his eyes as aching pain tore into his lungs and the beating of his weakening heart filling his head. The world faded in and out. Seeing in doubles and triples as the world spins. He's suffocating. As his consciousness slips, the demon gives one last regard.
"We will see."
…
(A.N. Thank you for reading! If you notice any mistakes don't be afraid to let me know! I've updated this chapter to blend with what's said in later chapters as this was originally supposed to be a one-shot kind of story but I liked it so much I kept it going. Thank you for reading and it truly means a lot.
I have a Tumblr (bi-ocelot) and an Instagram (bi_ocelot) if you want to see what I do between chapters!)
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