Scaling the mountain was nothing short of brutal. The journey started off easily enough, with soft inclines leading to stone outcroppings. But as I ascended, the terrain became increasingly treacherous, each rise more violent than the last. I found myself crawling at times, grasping at the rocks with numb, bare hands. Oh, how I wished I had gloves. Every ten minutes, I’d pull out the map, trying to get my bearings, but it wasn’t much help—everything looked the same.
Halfway up, I realized I hadn’t looked behind me, too focused on getting to my destination and avoiding a backward tumble. When I finally dared a quick glance, I expected to be startled, but the view had the opposite effect. From this height, I could see what felt like all of Northern Heladon.
Heladon City lay miles and miles away, tiny and distant. Large outposts dotted the landscape, along with two other structures I couldn’t quite make out. Trees blanketed the land, looking like mere patches of vegetation from up here—and I wasn’t even halfway up the mountain. Then I made the mistake of looking directly down.
“Fuck,” I muttered, a surge of anxiety hitting me. I quickly turned my gaze forward again. “Bad idea...” I said to myself, shaking off the fear as I resumed crawling. The incline didn’t get much steeper, but my arms and legs were beginning to tire.
After about an hour of grueling effort, I stumbled upon a small cave. It wasn’t much—a dark, wet space that ended abruptly at a rock wall—but it offered some shelter. The constant drip of water from the cave walls made sleep impossible, but I rested there for a while, grateful for the reprieve. As I checked my map again, I couldn’t help but note that this exact cave was marked. Lyus had likely taken shelter here too. Funny how coincidences like that happen, but it also meant I was on the right path.
By the time I resumed my climb, the sun was dipping below the horizon, signaling the approach of nightfall. It would have been wiser to wait out the dark, but I couldn’t afford to waste any more precious time.
As darkness swallowed the land around me, visibility became a challenge. “Shit,” I muttered to myself. “Why the fuck did I go out?” I glanced up at the moon, barely visible behind thick clouds.
For a while, it felt like I’d be wandering in endless darkness until sunrise. Then, suddenly, I stumbled into something solid. It was stone—rectangular, veering off to the left, jutting out from the mountain’s floor. I held the crystal forward, using its faint light to examine what I’d found. Steps. Another hallucination? I wondered. It had been hours since I started, and the crystal’s energy was beginning to wane.
With no other options, I took a cautious step forward, bracing for the worst. But my foot landed firmly, and I began to climb. The solid steps were a welcome change from the unforgiving mountain terrain.
The steps continued for what felt like an eternity—thirty minutes, at least. With each passing second, the crystal's light grew dimmer, pushing me to quicken my pace. I was so focused on moving forward that I barely noticed when the steps abruptly turned to the right. I caught myself just in time, “Fuck!” I yelled, dropping to my stomach, my head hanging over the edge. Below me was nothing but an abyss of darkness.
My heart pounded as I took a deep, steadying breath. I pulled myself back from the edge and carefully used my hands to feel for where the stairs continued. This side of the mountain was a sheer, vertical incline—impossible for anyone to climb.
Suddenly, my hand brushed against something different. Wood. Was that even possible here? I pushed against it, and though it creaked under the pressure, it didn’t budge. The sound, however, hinted that the structure was hollow.
Standing unsteadily as the wind rocked me back and forth, I felt along the slab of wood until my fingers brushed against a handle. A door. Twisting it open, I heard a series of clicks like that of a clock, followed by the sounds of a mechanism shifting within. The inner workings moved for what felt like minutes, until finally, the door creaked open. A wave of warmth rushed out to greet me, just as the crystal flickered and went completely dark.
Without a second thought, I rushed inside, heedless of what I might find. Leaning against the wall I took another breath, closing my eyes. This was fucking insane—how was I ever supposed to find him?
Opening my eyes, I glanced to my right and took in the sight of a massive room. The walls were cavernous yet impossibly smooth, as if carved by some ancient hand. Torches hovered in the air, held aloft by invisible forces, casting a warm, flickering light. Shelves packed with books lined the center of the room, while long tables laden with various strange items stood along the edges. The air was thick with the mouthwatering aroma of stew, causing my stomach to churn with hunger.
Banners hung loosely on the walls, not of Heladon but of some older, forgotten nation. Dominating one side of the room was a depiction of Llythyrra, her ethereal beauty captured in exquisite detail. She was tall and slender, with long orange hair cascading down her back, framed by the iconic image of a star glowing behind her. They must have thought of her as beautiful, but a Goddess who lets those suffer is one of pure evil.
Drawn by the scent of the stew, I wordlessly made my way through the room, weaving through the makeshift library. The books here were unlike any I’d seen before. Some delved into the history of mankind, others into the art of magic. A few, battered and worn, seemed to recount the tale of Llythyrra. Every title, every cover, was strange and unfamiliar.
“I’ve read them all,” a gruff voice echoed from ahead of me. I snapped my gaze in that direction, but there was no one there. “How man was the perfect creation of Llythyrra... who then turned on her, forcing the Goddess to flee.” The voice now came from behind me, yet when I turned, no one was there either.
“Where are you?” I asked, crouching slightly. They wouldn’t take me without a goddamn fight. I spun around as footsteps came again from behind, and this time, I saw him.
It was Dolion, yet at the same time, it wasn’t. He stood straighter, more capable in appearance, as if the years had melted away. His eyes were a completely different color than what I remembered. The expression he wore wasn’t one of recognition or malice, but of unsolicited fear—though not directed at me.
“What the fuck—?” I stumbled backward, my mind reeling. “You’re supposed to be dead—or…”
“Dead?” The old man, dressed in a long black robe, raised an eyebrow, his expression calm. “I believe we’ve never met.”
His voice, his manner of speaking—it wasn’t like Dolion’s at all. “You look like someone... I knew.”
“Many take my form, yes,” he replied, his arms folded neatly within his sleeves. “But you might know me as Thadomire.”
“Thadomire…” I repeated, the name leaving me breathless. My earlier confidence wavered. “Lydus sent me here.”
“As I told him to…” Thadomire said, ushering me forward with a wave of his hand. “You must be hungry.”
I hesitated, but with the crystal gone, the gnawing hunger returned—the nausea, the stabbing pain in my stomach, even the uncomfortable stiffness in my jaw—pushed me to follow. I was a day away from starving, after all.
He led me away from the books to where a pot hovered in the air, somehow boiling without any visible source of heat. “It’s rabbit—I think,” Thadomire said, picking up a ladle and dipping it into the stew. He brought it to his lips, sipping the scalding liquid without a flinch. “Ah… yes, indeed rabbit.”
As he spoke, I noticed his fingers twitching involuntarily. There was a madness in his demeanor, a subtle but unmistakable sign that this man wasn’t entirely sane, “Mm... mm... and a good one at that.” He picked up a bowl, pouring a small portion in, “Try some for yourself.”
“I don’t—”
“Try... some,” Thadomire urged, his smile taking on an eerie quality.
A warning bell went off in my head—something told me not to provoke this man. Reluctantly, I took the wooden bowl and sipped the stew. To my surprise, it wasn’t as hot as I’d expected, though it left much to be desired in terms of flavor. The rabbit was chewy, and I wasn’t entirely convinced it was rabbit at all.
Thadomire’s eyes were fixed on me, observing intently without a word. His gaze frequently flickered toward the stew. I forced a weak laugh and nodded, downing the rest of the bowl in a single gulp. “Very good.” I managed to say.
He clapped his hands, a strange gleam in his eyes. “Now come... come.”
Without waiting for a response, the old man spun around hastily. Reluctantly, I followed, “What should I show you first… ahh—of course!” Thadomire exclaimed, stopping at one of the long tables. He picked up a strange skull, clearly not of human origin. “Isn’t this fascinating?” He thrust it into my arms. “Careful—she used to be a lover.” Thadomire let out a snort of laughter before turning to something else.
“Mmmm… hah! Look at this.” He brandished a dagger, pulling it from a cloth with a flourish.
My eyes widened as I saw it. It bore a striking resemblance to Vesperus’s weapon, though it had distinct differences. The dagger featured a thin, intricate, and curved crossbar, with a jagged, zig-zagged blade that seemed to be made of crystalized blood. “Now… these types of daggers belonged to a clan of blood wielders long ago and—”
“Thadomire…” I said cautiously, trying to steer the conversation. The old man paused, still staring intently at the table. “With all due respect—”
“Respect—respect?” He looked at me, tilting his head with a curious expression. “Go ahead.”
“I came here about—the curse.” I stated carefully.
Something shifted in Thadomire’s eyes as I spoke. His demeanor changed, becoming less erratic. “The curse…” Thadomire’s voice dropped, taking on a more serious tone. “I’m so sorry… these days, I can’t control myself anymore.” His gaze fell on the skull in my arms. “Do you know what makes up magic, Alaric?”
I shook my head.
“Energy… pure energy.” He gestured toward the portrait of Llythyrra. “When she created the first human soul, it was forged from pure energy. It flows through all things… and to use magic, you must find a way to harness that energy.” He looked at me intently. “But one race never needed to. The Masavorans… you’re simply—” A quick, unsettling laugh escaped him. “—tapping into the energy within your soul.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, my curiosity mingled with wariness.
Thadomire’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what the curse desires: your ability to harness incredible energy.” He hurried over to the bookshelves, frantically pulling out volumes in search of a specific one. I approached cautiously. “Vesperus was merely a p-pawn in the grand scheme,” he said, his voice stuttering violently before he broke into a coughing fit. “Agh…” After catching his breath, he continued, “It’s not him who controls the curse.”
“I figured that out…” I replied slowly. “After I killed him, the curse didn’t—”
“Killed Vesperus?” Thadomire’s eyes flashed with a fierce glare before he returned to his search dismissively, “Someone else, someone more ancient... stronger.” He said the last word with a whisper.
“Just tell me who,” I said firmly, my patience wearing thin.
Thadomire stopped his frantic search, turning to me with his hands outstretched. He grabbed my shoulders, his grip tight and intense. His eyes bore into mine, searching for something. “It’s hard for me to say his name…” His voice cracked, trembling with fear. “I’m scared… to say it… But.” He squeezed my shoulders tighter, his voice a strained whisper. “Yes—yes, I must…”
Thadomire muttered crazily, his eyes darting around. “Decades—no… centuries.” He corrected himself, his voice filled with desperation. “A dark sorcerer, a Masavoran like you, waged war on the race of man to exterminate them. He almost won… The War on Man.” Thadomire’s gaze shifted to a specific banner, his expression distant. “But outnumbered, and with the lack of resources, he lost on a whim. The strongest sorcerers of that age banished him to hell, but not before he passed a curse onto Vesperus.”
He pushed me away abruptly, nearly knocking me off balance, and resumed his frantic search. “Vesperus was merely a carrier. Think of a rat… or a mosquito carrying a disease. He passed the curse onto you because…” Thadomire stopped, his hands trembling as he pulled a thick, heavy book from the shelf, its dark crimson cover adorned with a single makeshift eye jutting from the front. “…only someone of Masavoran descent can finish the spell.”
“And… how do I break it?” I asked breathlessly, my eyes locked onto the ominous book.
Thadomire’s gaze grew distant, almost sorrowful. “I remember… so very long ago. Decades… perhaps more…” He laughed sadly, shaking his head. “I’ve lived a life too long…” His focus returned to me, more intense than before. “Belzarok was banished to hell. Yet since he never truly died, his soul and body are trapped in a land between the living… a land all still-living souls travel to.”
I tilted my head, struggling to grasp his words. “None of this sounds real…”
“It must—because if you do not destroy his soul, the curse will swap yours with his, trapping you down there while Belzarok uses your power to finish his war.”
“That’s not—not…” I stammered, my voice breaking, “...fair. Why can’t I pass it on to you? Get it over with?”
Thadomire ignored my plea, flipping the book open to a page depicting a gateway surrounded by dense, cryptic text. “You’ll need to travel to this portal… find his soul in hell… and destroy it, Alaric. Only then will you finally harness your power… and use it to save your captured friend.”
My heart skipped a beat. “How do you know about that?”
“I’ve been watching… for so long.” He let the book fall from his hands, hitting the ground with a heavy thud, dust billowing up around it. “You have to do this.”
“No, I—” I took a step back, swallowing hard. “This is too much. You can’t just dump all this on me and expect me to be okay with it. Hell? You’re out of your goddamn mind.”
Thadomire extended a hand, and suddenly my body seized up, frozen in place. “You have to.” His voice dropped to a low, menacing growl. “Do you know why I’m here? In these mountains, all alone?” He spoke through gritted teeth, his words heavy with bitterness. “Banished by a force beyond your imagination. Beings of celestial intent, all because I wanted to end Belzarok for good…” The tips of his fingers glowed with a faint, ominous red light. “I did everything to protect this world, and I’ve been… driven mad.”
He released me, collapsing to his knees as a violent coughing fit overtook him. A thick, unpleasant fluid spewed from his mouth, staining the floor. “I won’t let you leave unless you do this,” he croaked, his eyes locking onto mine. The look of a broken man.
“I’ve been chased from my home… almost executed for doing nothing.” I crouched down to meet Thadomire at his crumpled height, my voice trembling with pent-up frustration. “I don’t even know you… because of this goddamned curse, I’ve—” I swallowed hard. “I’ve killed so many… just trying to survive. I’m tired…” My voice broke just admitting it. “How… how am I supposed to do this?”
His tone took on a new firmness. “It doesn’t matter,” Thadomire’s voice cut through my despair, cold and detached, as if he had become someone else entirely, a third personality distinct from the other two. “That ritual Vesperus almost had you complete? It would have quickened the curse… but that doesn’t mean it won’t finish on its own. At most, you have a week before it takes full effect.”
He groaned as he stood, and I followed suit, his voice barely audible above the crackling of torchlight, “You won’t just be a coward,” Thadomire warned, “you’ll be the one who killed mankind.”
“No…” I murmured, denial creeping into my voice. “They’ll survive. They always do.”
Thadomire shook his head slowly, a fake smile tugging at his frail, wrinkled face. “Humanity's downfall has only just begun,” he replied, “Ancient wars are still waging, and they may never truly end. Hundreds die every day while incompetent leaders rise to power... It would be the perfect time for him to strike.”
He had to be lying. The underworld, a realm supposedly ruled by a goddess named Valith—these were just folktales, stories spun to keep children in line, to scare them into obedience. It seemed impossible to believe, yet...
Even if humanity was insufferably greedy and ignorant, I couldn't be the one to let them die out. I couldn’t let myself be the cause of their extinction, no matter how unjust the request or how surreal the circumstances. Thadomire’s tales of ancient sorcerers might have seemed like fabrications, but the reality of the curse was undeniable.
“Fine,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, my eyes squeezing shut as if it would make everything disappear.
Thadomire leaned in, his frail form looming close. “What did you say?” he asked, his breath a lingering rancid in odor.
I opened my eyes, locking onto his reluctantly, “I’ll be your fucking hero,” I growled through clenched teeth. “But after this... I’m done. No more. I’m done with all of it.”
Thadomire’s eyes flickered with something akin to satisfaction, though his gaunt face betrayed no other emotion. “Very well,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Then it’s settled.”
“That’s it?” I began, but my voice faltered. I stopped myself from finishing, recognizing the futility of my frustration. Thadomire was a man on the edge, teetering between sanity and madness, driven by forces beyond comprehension. His broken state was due to the many years of torment and suffering laid upon him.
I could see the flickers of a better man beneath his fractured exterior, someone whose glimpses of sanity were more noble than I could claim to be.
“It doesn’t matter,” I continued more quietly, “Just... how do I find this gateway?”
Thadomire’s demeanor shifted abruptly, and he danced away from me with an erratic energy that was worrying. His hands flailed in the direction opposite of us. “You rest now... yes... I have a bed prepared for you. In the early mornings you’ll leave but for now...” He paused, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, “You take care of yourself. For both our sakes.”
I followed his direction and entered the small, dimly lit room that he had indicated. The bed, though simple, was invitingly warm and cushioned with straw. It almost felt like a prison, but exhaustion was soon injected into me. With each moment, my eyes became heavier, weary of what tomorrow would hold.
As I lay in the bed, the final sounds of the night reached me—the murmurs and bickering of Thadomire in the other room. His voice, fragmented and echoing through the cavernous space, carried with it decades of torment. It was clear he was speaking to himself, or perhaps to invisible figures only he could see.
The snippets of conversation that drifted through the walls were disjointed and haunting. Phrases about ancient battles, curses, and lost loves interspersed with harsh self-reprimands and desperate pleas for understanding.
I felt sorry for him. Sorrier than I ever felt for myself. To live in a world of constant loneliness, your own thoughts for amusement. If I made it out alive, I would not isolate myself despite Ikevine’s wishes. Not after seeing what it could do.
Only time would tell if I’d succeed.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
