Sacrilege

Like a thick blanket of lukewarm static, darkness swallowed the castle whole. So opaque was the shadow that it was impervious to light, rising from the towers like hungry wisps of unholy flame. Even the smallest morsels of life were barred from approaching their boundary: there were no birds among the rocks, no moss between the bricks, no sunlight trickling through the spires; for the mountains were far too jagged, the masonry much too cold, the fog too incurable and deep. Countless years of abandonment had suffocated the very land itself, and shadow now rose from the bowels of the earth to seep through the cracked foundation, coating every inch of the acropolis with taint. Neither sturdy grass nor wriggling worm could survive it.

“Death Knight Keep,” was what adventurers liked to call it, and properly so after its spiraling towers that stabbed at the sky like the lances of evil undead.

“Some day, they’ll pierce through that veil of clouds and challenge the gates of heaven,” a minstrel one said. “And when that time comes, the world as we know it shall end.”

But like many of the other doomsday “prophecies” shared across a lute and flagon of ale, the tale of Death Knight Keep was a baseless one without any literary credibility. Usually, such narratives became myths or folk tales used by mothers to coax their children asleep come dark. Don’t wander outside when the moon is high, they’d say, else the monsters of the Keep will get you.

But Death Knight Keep was a bit of an anomaly. Whereas most understood the dangers of straying near archaic sites--it was common knowledge that bandits and dark creatures flocked to them--some asinine adventurer or passing peddler was bound to disappear eventually. Yet, no one had gone missing near the Keep’s parameters in a long time, which was unusual considering similarly perilous locations were wrought with reports. In fact, Death Knight Keep hadn’t witnessed a single trespasser in several centuries--nay, several millennia. Granted, some brave souls had tried. There was even a point when a great, age-old army marched across its borders, keen on taking the strategic location--and any treasure, for that matter--for themselves.

Not one soldier, captain, or king who disappeared into that mist was ever seen again.

So was it burned into the minds of humanity that Death Knight Keep could not be tested, and although the missing army would eventually become naught but legend, people trusted in their ancestor’s wisdom and the left the castle alone. Years, decades, centuries would pass--ancient civilizations would crumble and immortal bloodlines would dissolve--yet the keep remained steadfast, watching, waiting, perched up in the mountains of Al’Duhl like a slumbering god of death.

But there had been a change in the winds, a shift in the tides: the ancient keep was about to receive its first guests since time immemorial. Absence would become presence, abditories would form havens, and the most unlikely of allies would finally meet.

“This way!” Sir Kodan’s voice was barely audible over the battle surrounding him. Bheldes Lla’s warriors in blue clashed with Zirian warriors of white, fighting for their right to live and the future of their homelands. But the outcome had already been decided long before the first arrow was shot, and the Azure Kingdom of Bheldes Lla was soon to witness defeat. So Kodan was running. He knew what the Zirian Empire did to its prisoners of war, and he wasn’t about to let the second Azure Princess fall into their grimy hands. That shimmering white flag which represented purity and peace had been stained red with the blood of countless innocents, for the Zirian Empire only showed mercy to those who swore allegiance to its crown; everyone else was a heretic, mere glorified worm food before the eyes of their great bishop.

He was running through a a hard-fought split in the chaos--many blue soldiers had died in order to create it--with a look of ferocity that seemed to slice the fog in half. No matter what, he was going to keep the Princess Ellisla alive, for he’d be damned if he let all this sacrifice be in vain.

What remained of his most trusted soldiers, Princess Ellisla and her guardian, as well as four knights clad in gold followed him close behind, rushing unabashedly deeper into the depths of Death Knight Keep.

Ellisla, despite the heavy silver armor protecting her body, did not struggle to keep up. She’d trained for months on end in preparation for moments like this. Her thoughts even dared to venture elsewhere, betraying the expression of acute focus on her face.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Her army was due to patrol the perimeter of the treacherous Al’Duhl mountains and take out enemy scouting parties along the way. It was well-known that Al’Duhl’s jagged formations were extremely difficult to cross and hostile to all lifeforms, so there were always minimal enemy forces throughout its base. With shear numbers on her side, Ellisla was going to return from her maiden battle victorious, reinforcing her power as the second princess and improving her chances towards obtaining a seat in the Council of Crowns tenfold.

So what happened?

“Quickly! Through the door!” Ellisla’s second-in-command, Sir Kodan, brought her back to reality. She looked at the set of large stone doors he and his soldiers held open, barely processing that they were the gates of the infamous Death Knight Keep, before promptly stepping inside. But as soon as she did so, Ellisla stopped, hesitating for the briefest of moments as the irresistible urge to look back overcame her.

There, only a dozen breaths away, was one of her soldiers, limp and choking on an enemy’s spear that had been lodged in their throat. Their death was audible even from a great distance, and she listened to it, to the gurgle of blood spilling out from the wound, to the metallic shing as the spear was retrieved, to the resounding clatter of armor as they fell lifeless to the ground...

And then the doors shut, relieving her of the bloodshed.

A dead silence filled the castle corridor, completely devoid of any indication that there was a war waging on beyond its ancient entrance. It was almost as if she’d just stepped through a portal into another world, one that was far away from the Al’Duhl mountains and the army she’d so willingly abandoned.

If she’d just been more competent, more aware of her surroundings--

“Come, my lady. We mustn’t linger near the entrance else we’ll be caught.” The warm, familiar voice of Mischa, Ellisla’s guardian and close friend, reminded her that now was not the time to regret. That would have come later: first, they needed to get out of here alive.

Kodan nodded in agreement, turning to face the entry corridor of Death Knight Keep. Flickering flame torches were spread evenly across its barren walls, exuding just enough light to reveal an interior that was equally as massive as its exterior. The ceiling was dozens of meters tall and the walkway wide enough to fit a small army.

It was a mystery as to why torches were lit in an abandoned ruin, and it was a mystery as to why he’d made it inside without obstruction, but Kodan didn’t think about it too much. He was here to escape, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

“There’s ought to be an exit somewhere in this corridor. Men, search every room!” Sir Kodan ordered and began to walk, leading the way for the rest of the survivors. There were barely a dozen of them: Princess Ellisla, Mischa, four gold-ranked knights, Sir Kodan, and a handful of common soldiers were all that remained of Bheldes Lla’s maiden forces. Everyone else was dead, converted, or about to become one of the two.

As the group progressed down the passageway, they passed many sets of identical doors. However, every single one was sealed shut. The soldiers attempted to open everything at the beginning, but when they eventually came to the hundredth set and it still wouldn’t budge, they gave up. Sir Kodan suggested that the corridor was an illusion, one that infinitely looped the same patch of corridor for as long as the eye could see, and the unresponsive hundredth doors only served to confirm his suspicions. Unfortunately, there were no mages among them, so they could only continue onward with the hope that, eventually, something would change.

Hours of walking later, something did.

WHO GOES THERE.

A voice split the silence in half, rumbling in Ellisla’s ears like the echos of proximate thunder. Although it was just a voice, it carried a weight like a thousand slates of heavy brick, and it all descended upon her without a breath’s hesitation. Overwhelmed, Ellisla fell to her knees and grasped helplessly at the timeworn stone, eyes squeezed shut and arms trembling. She could barely hold herself up, much less breathe, and the weight was only increasing. It was as if she’d been submerged in a cocoon of extreme pressure, and at this rate, she couldn’t last much longer. If these conditions didn’t cease, Ellisla was sure she’d be crushed to death.

“My Lady?”

And then it was gone. Just like that, every ounce of strain disappeared, whisked away by a couple of words and a warm hand upon her shoulder. Ellisla looked up, meeting the concerned gaze of her guardian. Mischa was on one knee, but the lack of perspiration or strain indicated that it was a position achieved of his own free will. Confused, Ellisla glanced around, catching sight of her accompanying survivors. One of the gold knights seemed skittish, hand ready to draw their weapon at any moment, but the rest just looked exhausted. Truth be told, they’d all been expecting something horrible to happen for a while now; whether it was an endless swarm of undead or the Zirian army from behind, everyone had been on their guard the entire time.

But nothing had occurred. At least not until now.

The princess held onto Mischa as she struggled to stand, but fell over as soon as her support was lost. It was only due to Mischa’s quick reaction that Ellisla didn’t collapse a second time.

“My Lady, are you all right?” Mischa asked, holding her up.

“Y-yes...” Ellisla replied, tone much weaker than intended. It seemed the voice’s effect hadn’t dissipated quite yet; her legs felt wobbly and there was an unpleasant throbbing in her skull. So she continued to lean on her trusted friend, daring not to step away until the weakness began to fade. In a low voice, she asked “Did you hear that just now?”

Mischa’s brows furrowed. “Hear what?”

Ellisla frowned. So she’d been the only one who heard the voice, and thus the only one affected by it. But why had it been just her? And who did the voice belong to? Was it someone who stayed in Death Knight Keep? No, that was impossible: it was a well known fact that no living thing could survive within this toxic environment. The only reason she and her guardians had even made it this far was thanks to what could only be considered sheer luck. If not for that--and Kodan’s veteran leadership skills--they would certainly all be dead.

“Look! Look ahead!” One of the survivor’s gleeful shout drew the group’s attention away from the princess and down the hall. There, in the far distance, was the end of the endless corridor. Hope stirred in the survivors and they picked up their pace, hurrying towards salvation. As they came closer, the limit of the seemingly-boundless illusion was revealed: a pair of colossal doors that covered an entire third of the wall. They towered over the rest of the already-enormous corridor, and upon reaching their base, the group had to look straight up in order to see the top. The doors, though appearing to be plain stone themselves, had a strip of strange symbols carved into their border which glowed with faint light.

Everyone stood back as Sir Kodan, the most experienced of the group, cautiously approached one of these characters. He carefully waved his hand over its meter-wide diameter, feeling an ice-cold aura that exuded and prickled his skin. Kodan withdrew his hand and stared at it in contemplation: though he was no court wizard, it was apparent that these doors were strengthened with a powerful magic strong enough to sustain a massive illusion like the one they’d just passed through.

“Is this the throne room?” Mischa, who’d also been gazing at the symbols, suddenly spoke.

“What?” Kodan turned to face him. “What makes you think that?”

Mischa nodded and pointed directly ahead, indicating that there was something near the crevice between the doors. Kodan squinted in confusion, for his weary eyes saw nothing but smooth stone.

“That is the Ihndric word for throne, right?” Mischa stepped forward and motioned towards a small patch of seemingly-indistinct rock. Only then did Kodan realize there was, in fact, something there: it was a faint, hand-shaped depression in the stone, wherein a small symbol had been carved. It was a simple drawing consisting of shallow lines that roughly depicted a cathedra and crown, as well as what appeared to be scarcely-visible figures kneeling and bowing as if in worship.

Ihndric was the language of the oldest-known human civilization: the Ihndra. Despite having been thoroughly researched by scholars since the first ruins were discovered centuries ago, humanity had still only scratched the surface of Ihndric history and culture. Its language was one of its most widely-understood aspects, yet still translation was difficult, not to mention only doable by scholars and select nobility.

Fortunately, however, most middle-ranking members of the military and even accomplished adventurers knew some Ihndric words such as “treasury,” “caution,” and “throne.” Some knowledge was necessary if one desired to go spelunking through unexplored ruins. Thus, distinguished members of the Azure Royal Guard like Mischa and Kodan were expected to be capable of reading Ihndric.

“It is indeed,” Kodan said, gently pressing his hand into the depression. “And if it is like any other Ihndric throne room, it will have an exit.”