Over the land seethed a breathing cloud. The ground was blighted with rot. From nothing, under a sunless sea, came several adventurers. There were humans named Rhold and Klaus, a human half-elf named Akhari, and a humanly bestial zouani named Vesuni. They slowly slipped into existence, one by one, carefully observing the dead world around them.
Rhold stepped into the field coated in an iron breastplate and plated leggings, his shield and sword primed for a fight. A tasseled helmet obscured his black, short hair, and sweat rolled down his pale, white skin. He was short, yet his muscles were robust.
“Are we outsi—why is there a ruined village? How did we get here?” Rhold said.
Following him was Akhari, who readied her bow in hand, sporting hardened black and blue leaf armor. She had short, sharp ears, blue eyes, and short, azure hair covering an eye.
“I don’t know,” Akhari said. “I’ve heard tales of strange paths appearing within the tower’s dungeons. These paths lead to insane places, places I never knew could exist within. It doesn’t and never made sense, let alone why the fog looks like it’s burning.”
Behind her was a hunching, scrawny Klaus, who nervously clutched his clacking, ringed staff. He wore layers of grey and brown robes and cloth, sporting long, black hair and blue eyes.
“By the goddess, you’re telling me. It doesn’t feel like we’re in the dungeon anymore.” Rhold carefully stepped through the charred grass. “Klaus, do you sense anything?”
Lastly, guarding Klaus with long claws, was Vesuni. Vesuni had cat ears, a tail, eyes, and—partly—teeth. She had brown, tan skin, a brawny build, and purple hair that matched her eyes while wearing slim, black clothes and white wraps.
Klaus held out his hand, softly illuminated with holy light. An aura of warmness emanated.
“I sense no threat through the fog, but, hm.” Klaus’ ringed staff lit up along with his blue eyes, his long black hair raised. “I sense a soul, it’s human. We should search for answers…”
“Mhm, I’ll scout ahead.” Akhari ran with feline grace while glaring at Rhold. “Keep an eye out or I’ll stab it out.”
Klaus sighed. “Crude, but it’s not unwarranted.”
“I was thirsty and all we had was wine the one time,” Rhold said.
“Wine doesn’t—moderation is key, Rhold, you drank the entire bottle. You’re human, not a dwarf.”
“How is there anyone living here?” A humanly person with tan skin, purple hair, cat ears, and a long tail stepped forward wearing poofy but tightened clothes—a zouani.
“I don’t know, Vesuni, but I really don’t like how there haven’t been any signs of any monsters yet,” Rhold said. “Do your cat ears hear anything?”
“I hear naught but the crows.” Vesuni raised her fists and hopped from foot to foot. “How and why there are crows here is beyond me. It may not feel like we’re in the dungeon, but despite everything, we are still in it.”
“Are they not monsters?”
“I would have sensed it.” Klaus looked around and suddenly, his eyes shot open as he struggled to speak. “Look, over there.”
There was a dead tree with gnarled roots and charred bark, on it was a gruesome sight of mutilation.
“What, what the hell?” Rhold recoiled, the tassel on his steel helmet shook by his dismay. “Why are there dead bodies hanging from that tree? The monsters aren’t smart enough to do that. Are they?”
“Absolutely preposterous, they are not,” Klaus said, quivering. “What foul pers—thing… lives here?”
“Stay calm,” Versuni said. “Akhari returns.”
Leaping from afar, with light feet, was Akhari. “There are no traps and no villagers in the open. We’re going to have to dig through to find someone.”
“Let’s go.”
–
The four walked into the decrepit village embraced by the burning fog. The fog swept the distant bodies into a creepy shadow. The sight amplified their fear, especially Klaus. The ground itself was void of life, as all that remained were the marks of decayed grass and char. The air was thick and bitter, and the smell of death was palpable.
Klaus knocked against a wooden building. “The wood is rotted.”
“The only thing rotten’s your breath,” Vesuni said.
Klaus glared at Vesuni. “Not the appropriate time.”
“I’m just trying to keep our spirits up.” Vesuni approached a plain clay vase and opened it, only to wretch. “Nyak, wha-what is that smell?”
Vesuni held her nose and painstakingly peered into it. To her horror was a foul mass of putrefaction that writhed and churned.
“By the goddess, what is that?” Vesuni hissed as she kicked the vase against the side of a building. It shattered and splattered bloody muck twisted with a vile array of colors. The muck was a bulging slop of liquefied flesh and bone. A wicked image of a grin was embedded.
They recoiled in terror. Klaus turned away, fell on his knees, and vomited as he tightly gripped his staff to prevent himself from falling over. The smell flooded the village as Klaus struggled to stand up, his chin dripped in disgust.
“Fires of the primal age between earth and chaos hear me.” Klaus’ staff and hands lit up in a silver light. “Oh great titan whose pain burns in thy prison, let forth the flames that cleansed evils once before to return and bring harmony!”
Klaus swung his staff. From it came a raging fireball blasting forth at the refuse. The fireball exploded and vaporized the building to ash. The smell was burnt away in a chain of smaller blasts.
“What evil lurks?” Klaus screamed. “What nightmare have they wrought.”
“Gather yourself.” Akhari ran over and grabbed his robes tight, shaking him. “We must not let this aberration break us, we need to return to our goddess.”
“Breathe,” Vesuni said, “you did it. You burned the stench. That’s enough.”
“Akhari’s right, we must return. We need to start searching for the soul you sensed, get them, and retreat.” Rhold shrugged. “If there are no monsters, we only need to report what we’ve seen and deliver the survivor to make a shiny coin.”
Klaus clutched his chest and took deep breaths until he calmed down. “I’ve also heard of the tales, Akhari. Strange areas that were explored and never found again, but this is…”
“Appalling, yes it is,” Akhari said. “Yet if this is what breaks you, I don’t want you in our party.”
“A bit much, isn’t it?” Rhold said. “Monsters couldn’t have done this, the thought is terrifying.”
“Listen here, iron tighties. You know, as well as everyone, that the tower’s dungeons are full of risk. And if a nasty grime easily breaks us: we will die.” Akhari tossed an arrow into the ground beside Klaus. “We’re lucky it wasn’t in combat.”
“I won’t break, I won’t,” Klaus growled. “I promise.”
“Keeping you to that promise. Lives are on the line, our lives. Keep us alive and we’ll keep you alive. Now let’s search.”
The four of them roamed the ruined village and found nothing but more enclosed vases. They refused to open them. The silence was deafening, but they were insistent on discovering the source of the soul.
“I think I found something,” Rhold said, knocking on the wooden floor of a decaying shack. It’s hollow.”
“Gather up, we don’t know what’s below,” Akhari said.
The four of them stood around it with Rhold in the front. Rhold then shoved his sword into the crevices and used it as leverage to open it with a resounding creak. Below was a dirt basement with wood supports.
“Let’s go.” Akhari signaled as Klaus lit up his staff from the remnants of his spell.
As they entered, they discovered it was a space that was connected to another building. There was a fire pit, ragged mats, firewood, a small clay kettle, and bits of old bread.
“I see someone.” Vesuni pointed. “There.”
Vesuni’s cat eyes saw beyond the darkness, seeing a humanoid figure. They then approached the corner with the torch.
“Hello, we mean no harm.” Vesuni waved her hands up.
There was a dirtied, masculine human with dark hair, frightened and well-aged, huddled in the corner, mumbling.
“It’s okay,” Vesuni slowly approached, “what are you saying?”
The human spoke up with a language they could not understand.
“Klaus,” Vesuni said, “do you know this language?”
“I know not of it, but I shall use an item to unravel this tongue.” Klaus pulled out a small booklet and opened it. “Hear thy tongue of the great demagogue that speaks to the pantheons in one and all—”
An ethereal whisper filled their ears.
In this rift, that is unnecessary, wanderers from the beyond.
Klaus broke a sweat. “Did… did you hear that?”
The group readied themselves, watching the surroundings as the only sound came from the human.
“Seems we all did.” Akhari scanned the area with her bow.
“It… it found us.” The human suddenly became understandable as his voice transitioned into their own language. “We are all doomed.”
“What is this sorcery?” Rhold said.
“Tell us, what has found us.” Akhari barked.
“Th-the Flesh Tyrant,” The human said.
“What does that mean?”
“I-I…” He clenched his head.
“How much suffering does it take before you succumb to liquidity.” The whisper of the Flesh Tyrant brushed their ears.
“It comes.” The human screamed incoherently as he scratched his own face bloody. “It comes, it comes.”
“Calm yourself. Stay your hands.” Vesuni restrained the human before. “Klaus.”
“Oh stars from the night, light forth thy shine as the titan of the sky parts and share the bounties from the glittering stars. Let the light grant us clarity of mind and ease the fears that tear at us.” Klaus’ chanting empowered their minds, comforting them from their anxieties.
Akhari yelled. “We need to get out now. Grab that person, and let’s go.”
Vesuni grabbed the human and shoved him onto her shoulder as they all scrambled to leave the basement. When they stood in the village center, a long shadow was cast from the edge of town as the infernal fog churned and seethed. The four of them turned to the darkness. It had humanoid dimensions but it didn’t feel right as if there was something more. Vesuni let the human down, the human scurried until he took sight of the shadow.
“Oh, poor Erek.” The darkened Flesh Tyrant boomed with an unnatural distortion, “Driven to the brink of madness as the nightmares dissolved your friends and family.”
Rhold whispered. “Light, Klaus, we need light.”
Klaus swung his staff, and a flare of light emerged. The light revealed the nature of the Flesh Tyrant.
“A monster…” Rhold struggled to speak as his muscles convulsed against the spell of calm. “a monster unlike any. It sees us, but it’s faceless.”
“A mockery standing in a blackened robe of chains. Does it even have legs?” Klaus trembled before his antithesis of understanding. “Goddess, preserve us from this h-horror.”
Vesuni elbowed Klaus, “Calm down. Don’t look into its twitching, mislaid maws.” She then placed a hand on his shoulder. “Calm.”
Klaus took a deep breath. “I will not break.”
“It’s just magnificent to believe, is it not?” The Flesh Tyrant spoke through its myriad of tentacular maws strewn across its form. “You find yourselves within this strange rift of which you referred to as a,” it poked its chin with a long finger from its grotesque webbed hands, “dungeon…”
“A rift?” Akhari inched forward.
“A space, unlike the umbral or the abysatum between the heavens and hells, quiescentias and overworlds. One that seems to bring forth you all who bear the mark of a divine unknown.”
“You know not of our beloved goddess, foul monster. She who keeps the night as a heart of the hunt and the moon.” Klaus barked.
“Shh, Klaus.” Akhari sharply snapped at him.
“Keep your child on their chain lest I break him.” The Flesh Tyrant raised their long, segmented fingers with agonizingly tight skin, curling them as they twitched and pulsated with liquid flesh. “All I want to do is… talk…”
“Talk is what you’ll have until you step forward.” Akhari raised her blade.
“Hm, hm.” The Flesh tyrant chuckled, shaking and quivering. “I’ll abide… for now.”
Regardless of Klaus’ light, the Flesh Tyrant’s long shadow only darkened. A palpable fear thickened the very fog and made it hard to breathe. The four of them felt a dark power they had never felt before. Every second of its presence seemed to etch itself into their being.
“Do not trust the snake of the tyrant lord of nightmares.” Erek struggled to speak as he grabbed Vesuni’s leg. “The herald of the hells they are.”
“Why, you wound me, Erek. I’ve given you your desire, and I merely collected my due.”
“Its promises are poison.”
“Tyrant of the flesh, what was the exchange between you and him,” Akhari said.
“Poor Erek was scared, frightened, terrified of the dark that fell over Crastmarch. As he ran from Crastmarch, he was almost cut down by the dark ones. His legs were severed until I came along and heroically saved him. I offered to heal and return him home here in Glelginn in exchange for a feast of meat, which he graciously accepted, as you can see by his legs.” The head of the Flesh Tyrant slightly twisted. “And the vases and bodies you all see here.”
Like the others, Rhold stepped back. He was utterly horrified at the thought but did not dare provoke the entity.
“I smell your fear!” The Flesh Tyrant’s visage twitched and gnarled as its morbidly long fingers stretched to feel the air as a horrible, woven web. “It is a fear that isn’t from Veneration.”
Akhari eyed the Flesh Tyrant. “What is Veneration?”
“You are outsiders.” The Flesh Tyrant calmed down, retracting the fingers. “You are not the first, and you will not be the last to come to our world.”
“Veneration is… the world?” Akhari quietly said. “We’re in a different world?”
“They who had arrived before were just like you. They, who spoke of outlandish divines and retreated to a tear that I could not trespass. They, whose powers I’ve never witnessed before. A year in darkness, this land stayed, and yet this land still eludes my full grasp.” The Flesh Tyrant extended and curled its fingers. “It. Does. Not. Belong. Here.” It pointed at them. “You will all belong to me, and I will rend your secrets out from your suffering.”
Erek bloodily howled as the Flesh Tyrant stepped forth with a distorted, meaty noise that sounded like the mockery of countless voices.
“I am Xanleth.” The Flesh Tyrant stretched its bounty of bony fingers that writhed and jittered, spraying an anomalous acid that melted and vaporized the surroundings.
Akhari shot an arrow in a flash, and Xanleth deftly deflected it.
“What?” Akhari quickly loaded more arrows. “Defend yourselves.”
This half-elf is fast… but… painfully slow. Xanleth thought.
Rhold charged at the Flesh Tyrant and faced it with his shield edged by his sword, aided by a guard that could break cavalry charges.
With a roaring cry, Rhold slammed and stabbed into the Flesh Tyrant, who was unphased. A sweep of the Tyrant’s fingers sent him flying back.
Powerful yet… pitifully not.
“Sorry.” Vesuni tossed Erek far away. “To the stairs with you.”
The fold in space took Erek and slammed him onto the stairs that brought the party to this world. Vesuni quickly ran to the Flesh Tyrant and jumped up with a kick. A wreath of fingers stopped the kick. She hopped off the fingers to Xanleth’s side and propelled a barrage of punches into its flesh.
“Wha-what? I can break stone with my punches.”
Stone breaker… and yet pathetically meager.
The fingers spread like a fan, and Xanleth swept the air, slamming into Vesuna as she attempted to block the attack with crossed arms. The zouani was airborne, and her blood splattered across the ground. Rhold stood up and caught her, and a moment’s glance saw her greatly wounded across her body as acid slowly melted her skin.
“Vesuni.” Rhold yelled.
Vesuni’s closed eyes opened up. “I refuse to die, mrenough!” Vesuni stood back up.
“How is that thing so powerful?” Klaus shook his head, sweating. “We are only on the 9th level of the dungeon. Rhold, Vesuni, you both are level 3.”
Klaus snapped out of his panic and focused on Vesuni. With long, slow breathing, he recentered himself.
“Healing waters of the northern isle springs,” Klaus chanted, “as the nectar of the gods, rejuvenate our blood with the essence of the 365 herbs that belong to the great merciful who stays even the divine graves.”
Klaus and Vesuni glowed bright silver as Vesuni stopped bleeding.
“Thanks, boy wonder,” Vesuni said.
“Boy… wonder?” Klaus blinked.
“Just trying to keep spirits up from that horrible thing.” Vesuni and Rhold engaged Xanleth in melee. Rhold moved to the tyrant’s focus, desperately trying to fend off its finger blades as Vesuni pressured the Tyrant with her martial arts.
“Great speed of the messenger,” Akhari chanted, “run into my veins and take me as your vessel to grant me the burst of light to reach my destination. Let my impetus be as true as thy delivery of death unto the underworld.”
Akhari suddenly disappeared into a blur of light behind Xanleth. Akhari’s bow lit up with a blazing, golden light, shining an arrow that burned as bright as day. She released it, which soared, crying energy as it trailed fire.
Xanleth had already faced her, blocking the arrow with the palm of her hand. The arrow’s raging flames wrapped Xanleth’s hand in a fiery light, but Xanleth only flinched.
“I would say that was impressive compared to everything else.” Xanleth’s fingers slammed the ground, creating a shockwave that sent Rhold, Akhari, and Vesuni tumbling back.
“Akhari’s level 4, and her attributes are high,” Klaus whispered as he tightened the grip of his staff. “This makes no sense. Even with the nasty surprises, together, we should be able to clear at least 20 floors easily.”
“You are quick and yet not. You are oh-so slow.” Xanleth’s fingers curled. “I could see you as you were a blur. I understand now. From your eyes, you are strong in your world, but against us… we are superior.”
Xanleth raised their hands, stretching towards the sky.
“I understand the shock now from your forerunners.” Xanleth laughed.
An unfamiliar person spoke, interrupting them all.
“Lesser evil and conspirator unto Vulmek, you are quite merciful today, are you not? Holding yourself back for our… guests,” said an ominous voice. “Toying with them, perhaps?”
The party and Xanleth turned to the voice. From the shadow of a ruined building, a peculiar person appeared, dressed in pitched black robes. They wore a silver, bird-like mask with a very long beak and round, mirroring eyes, topped with a wide-brimmed hat. In their hand was a cane—a short staff of skulls wrapped in silver wreaths. It quietly glowed an ominous green. Each step they took clapped an unnatural echo through the surrounding silent hills.
The voice spoke. “Or are you perhaps still weak in the mortal realm?”
Xanleth sneered. “The Ghost of the Dark.”
“A strange name, yes, for one who ever evades your vision,” the being said before turning to the party. “A plague doctor at your service, outworlders.” The Plague Doctor tipped their hat with a slight bow. “I see you’re acquainted with Xanleth.”
“Who are you?” Klaus said.
“I am one who has studied this plane of crossroads within reality. One who knows your abilities are dwarfed by the interaction of your reality with our own. Plainly, I am a demonologist who will conquer the demons of the burning darkfire hells plaguing this world.”
Xanleth bellowed. “Trespasser and demon stealer…”
“You demons prey on and corrupt mortals, it is only natural that I dominate your kind in kind.”
“I will see you as my clay, old flesh.” Xanleth protruded more fingers as tentacular spines burst from its skin with a bloody eruption. “You will pay for interrupting my prizes once again!”
“Outworlders, run.” The Plague Doctor raised one hand. “I will hold it off.”
Akhari nervously nodded. “Rhold, Vesuni, let’s go.”
Vesuni, Akhari, and Rhold quickly retreated to Klaus as Xanleth’s fingers grew longer.
The Plague Doctor chanted. “And the hells will consume each other…”
The Plague Doctor raised their staff with a bright red light. Cracks appeared on the ground that spewed fire. From them came large, horrendous, goatish humanoids blessed with sharp spines and towering gnarled horns. They crawled their way out with bloodied scythes. Their faces were a butchered amalgamation of human and goat.
“… as the enigmatic ziekhyrs come…”
Two boulders emerged from the soil that exploded in a display of jade fire, demolishing several buildings with a loud crash. From them came two enormous golems of green fire and boulders that stretched forth their scorching limbs.
“… with the blood spawn of Tyrant Lord Akunari to seal you beyond…”
The plague doctor reached into their robe and pulled out a scroll drawn with many burning runes, marked by a circled star.
“… the very symbol of protection, that you demons pervert, will pull you back to the burning hells!” The scroll lit ablaze, spawning shackles around Xanleth’s limbs as its horrific orifices expanded.
“Evil pitched against evil? Is that a form of redemption?” Klaus blinked.
“You will not hold me back,” Xanleth yelled.
Its body twitched and writhed in reaction, but its form struggled to move.
“Stay where you belong until you are mine,” the Plague Doctor said.
A swirling portal of crimson blood and fire manifested behind the Flesh Tyrant. The two giant golems raised their mighty infernal fists and swung them. The fists smashed into the Flesh Tyrant. The winds of their blow burned the surroundings but barely budged the mighty demon. Yet, it pressed Xanleth back.
“You may banish me back to hell, but my horde shall descend upon you all. This land belongs to darkness.”
The Plague Doctor clapped their staff into the ground, both hands on its skulls. “And you will be gone with nothing.”
“Oh, but I shall finally take a prize long denied.”
Long fingers rapidly stretched outwards in the blink of an eye, enveloping Klaus before more shackles of the Plague Doctor’s spell restrained it. Xanleth quickly pulled Klaus into a hold.
“Akhari, Rhold, Vesuni, help me,” Klaus screamed as he shook against the horrifying wrap of demon skin.
“Klaus!” The three said in unison.
They rushed to him in horror. The Plague Doctor shook their head.
“Minions.” The Plague Doctor pointed at Klaus as they raised their cane. “Save the outworlder.”
The cane lit up as toxic energies flowed from the skulls and onto Xanleth.
Xanleth cackled softly. “Your friend… is mine.”
Xanleth had let go, melding into the portal behind him. As soon as the Flesh Tyrant disappeared, the portal dissipated. The Plague Doctor slammed their staff onto the ground.
“Klaus,” Akhari yelled.
Rhold and Vesuni were stunned, Rhold stood breathless as Vesuni held her mouth speechless.
Akhari stumbled before falling onto her knees. “They were a child. A godsdamn child.”
“A terrible fate awaits him, for he shall not die.” The Plague Doctor sighed. “It is my fault, I will never underestimate it again.”
“He will not?” Vesuni said. “Can we save him?”
“No.” The plague doctor shook their head as Akhari gritted her teeth. “The circles of hell belong to the seven tyrannical dark lords, and even a lesser tyrant such as Xanleth knows how to weave agony and reformation. To go into such realms is a death’s wish as of yet, let alone to enter is a monumental task.”
“We were fools, we were—” Rhold bashed his shield into the wall of a building and shattered a hole into it. “Fools.”
“Your friend will stay alive, but he will not be the same.” The Plague Doctor stepped forward. “As they now know how to intrude into your world.”
Vesuni jittered her head. “What?”
“To us, where you came from is merely a distortion in reality that we cannot enter, a distortion which claims the village itself by extension. Yet, when you tossed that suffering soul unto it…”
“I discovered the key, us.” Vesuni looked at her hands. “What have I done?”
“It was an inevitable discovery despite your ignorant kindness. Whether it was done by the link of souls or of purpose is unknown.”
The Plague Doctor walked up to one of their ziekhyrs and scratched its chin. The ziekhyr let out a happy, warped gurgle.
“Soon, the demonic horde will be upon us, outworlders,” the Plague Doctor said. “Run.”
“We can’t just leave,” Rhold said.
“If you do not, you will perish despite my aid.”
Rhold shook as he fell to his knees. “Klaus.”
Akhari yanked Rhold off the ground and looked him in the eyes, a faint tear in hers. “I hate it, but we must leave. We will live to fight another day. We can only keep moving.”
Vesuni hugged Akhari from behind, wrapping her tightly. “It’s hard.”
“I know, Vesuni, it never gets easier.” Akhari sighed as Vesuni released her embrace.“
Unnatural noises echoed in the distance, a vast symphony of screams, wails, and roars. The golems burned a snapping groan, and the ziekhyrs growled.
Rhold quaked at the sounds. “How many are there?”
“Too many,” the Plague Doctor said.
“What will you do?”
“I must study the source of this eldritch breach.” The Plague Doctor looked at him with eerie eyes. “Let me come with you.”
Rhold flinched. “You know not where we’re from.”
“Yes, I do not. I require knowledge to prevent hell from spilling into your world.”
Akhari scanned the plague doctor. “Will you teach us to combat these forces?”
“Yes.”
In the heat of the moment, the three outworlders looked at one another and nodded in agreement.
“Let’s go then before we are overwhelmed,” Akhari said. “Call off your… monsters. If any adventurer sees them, there will be trouble.”
“I see.” The Plague Doctor held out their hand and staff.
From a violet portal, the doctor conjured a being like the ziekhyr except smaller, more humanly, and with even smaller horns. Its sleek, shiny skin was decorated with sweetly tainted, silken fur. It stood upon smooth cloven hooves of amethyst gemstone, the same as its horns. Its glowing, fractaled, rose-quartz eyes held a gaze of desire. It knelt before the plague doctor.
“Magzta, vratzor will.” The humanoid brutally bellowed in a warped voice.
“Daex-blessed unghed, call the Fellowship and Scions to Crastmarch.”
The unghed grunted a wet gasp of air, a guttural affirmation, before sprinting at an impeccable speed out of Glelginn. The plague doctor then raised their staff as the skulls lit up violet, the demons then glowed a shadowy color that trailed to the orifices of the staff. The demons disappeared.
“Let’s go,” the Plague Doctor said.
The four of them walked to the stairs. Upon the first step, the Plague Doctor observed the innards.
“The distortion leads to stairs in carved stone, fascinating.” The Plague Doctor then looked at Erek, whose crumpled body lay silently on the steps. “The poor soul has passed out. Let his terror cease.”
Vesuni tossed Erek onto her shoulder as the group ascended into the cold darkness.
“We will come back for you, Klaus,” Rhold whispered. “We will avenge you. Goddess, grant us strength.”
“Know that there will always be loss with beings like that.” The Plague Doctor said. “But our reckoning will come.”
“We know. We fought and faced loss before, but it never gets any easier.”
“It never does,” the Plague Doctor said. “Hm, that’s a nice thought: if it did. An apprentice of mine witnessed countless deaths, including the death of her mentor, as we failed against the Plague of Ravenburg. Since then, she has never been the same.”
“H-how so?” Rhold said.
“The apprentice calls upon the fires of purgation and acidic purification through alchemy, claiming the art of the bombardier with her vials of destruction. Her determination is unceasing and, as such, resourceful as she can procure powers of mine to an extent.” The Plague Doctor held out a shining gem, a lapis lazuli. “The stars called me to the spot on a beach where I would meet her. A curious soul of the sea, one who wanted to see the world. Naive she was, but no longer, and yet her curious spark never ended.”
“That’s both tragic and beautiful,” Vesuni said. “Through the winds of death, she persists.”
“Indeed.”
“It is strange we can still communicate, no?” Akhari said. “The Flesh Tyrant spoke of the attunement.”
“A peculiar phenomenon, one of many.” The Plague Doctor said.
“We’re coming upon the dungeon now,” Akhari said. “Let us do any talking.”
“I am your guest, and we will learn from one another. Hell hath no fury like the unity of worlds.”
Zelastar 