Chapter 17: The Heart of Humanity

"Fervent beats beneath the surface."​

The sight and sound of your pursuers has long since vanished. Darkness consumes the path ahead— which you cannot discern. The sorceress in your company continues to illuminate only your faces. The only forms you can make out beyond that of your companions is a towering building on the horizon. If you squint, you can discern buildings further beyond the tower's outline— but the surrounding structures are of little concern. You have suffered much to get to your destination. You don't want to get distracted now.

It feels as if you all have been walking for hours in the darkness. The barely perceptible weight of your pack is a harsh reminder of how far your resources have dwindled. You're reminded as well of how much you've been through. You'd thank Celegwen and Ofelia for aiding you as much as they have— but you're afraid of making a sound. What was once all-encompassing silence is now frequently punctuated by hysterical screaming, sobbing and laughter. It can't be from a single individual, as the voices from the buildings ahead wildly differ.

Your body aches. The burn in your limbs and lungs from running for your life, marching forward without pause, praying to multiple deities within the span of a few hours, and the stress of your current situation bears heavily on your emaciated frame. Still, you press on— nudged occasionally by Ray. He's obediently obeyed your commands to remain silent as you march on, and has kept you on your feet each and every time you feel your strength faltering.

Just when it feels like you can't take another step, Ofelia waves from ahead, then back to Celegwen. They traded places at the lead of your company as soon as the pace had slowed.

The sorceress murmurs a spell into the end of her staff, which dissipates all light from it for the briefest of moments. Starlight flows around you all in a halo. The sound of screams and laughter ceases for a blessed moment. The only thing you can hear is Celegwen's methodical voice. "We're here."

Although you cannot see her, you can not only hear Ofelia speak out— her voice seems to be everywhere. "This is fuckin' weird, Gwen. Can we get a lil' light?"

"I cannot sustain both effects simultaneously, Ofelia. I'm at my limit after fending off our attackers for such an extended length of time. I fear it will be long before we can rest again, if we proceed ahead."

Even the restrained and timid nature of your tone echoes around you all. "You both have been here before— and cautioned me that this place was terribly guarded. Is there no place to rest nearby? I can make out quite a few buildings, and although— although it's difficult to tell if they're occupied— surely there must be somewhere we can regroup."

Celegwen replies, "it has been no less than two weeks since we were last here. The patrols have no doubt changed, but there was an abundance of demons in this area when last we came. I had hoped that our reckless escape from those small demons would have pulled them away, but there may still yet be some remaining. There are many humans here as well, Father. We were attacked by several of them on our last excursion to this place, and deemed the venture not worth the effort."

"We've got us much more important things to search for now, o'course." It almost sounds like Ofelia is trying to reassure you. "I think Richard and Ray can handle some trouble, but I dunno what else might be up there. It's damn hard to make out anything. I can scout ahead, but the space up ahead is a real pain. Might take me awhile."

The usual trembling in your frame isn't from muscle wasting or strain. The sound of countless men and women lost to the Catalyst— faint as it is— is almost enough to make you weep. Face wrought with worry, you turn to Ofelia. You trust her skill enough to not have to spell everything out. "Please scout ahead for us. Carefully. There's— there is something that I need to do here."

Mercy's warmth, radiance and words have always brought you tremendous comfort. The tremor all throughout your body subsides as you take hold of your holy symbol. The gentle heat radiating from it further eases the pain in your hands and limbs.

She asked me to bring Our children together. Perhaps I can bring Her light to even the darkest of places.

A halfling's reassuring grin meets you— even in this near-absolute darkness. "You got it. You both stay safe. If I'm not back in an hour, come for me. 'Kay?"

Leaning down just slightly, Celegwen places a hand on her shoulder. "That won't be necessary. Keep your eyes out for yourself."

With a nod, the blonde gives the bulk of her equipment to Celegwen. You can barely make out the myriad daggers she retains and stashes inside and around her clothing. It looks as if the weapons and a small pouch with unseen contents are the only items important enough to keep close to her side.

You stop the woman moments before she turns to leave. "I'm going to pray, to— to guide my children. It may diffuse their madness. Please try your best to not hurt them."

"You think you'll be okay?"

You don't know how to answer. A long moment passes. "I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't— if I didn't at least try."

Fidgeting, you glance away from all eyes staring in disbelief at you. Even Ray has his gaze fixed on you. You rapidly murmur, "just stop looking at me and go on ahead."

A huff is made in reply, before Ofelia laughs to herself. "Alright, alright." She turns and slinks off into the shadows. Her voice trails behind you all for moments after she's left.

"Good luck."

The echo of her farewell fades. Celegwen respects your request to avert her eyes as she asks, "how dangerous is what you're attempting to do?"

"The last time that I attempted to sway so many at a single time, it robbed me of— it robbed me of blood. Not much more. I may lose consciousness—" You give your dog a pat on his side, ever-relieved to have his company. "—but Ray will see to it that I'm alright. You will not be in any danger, Celegwen. The Gods are Merciful."

"I'll continue the spell for as long as I'm able. I am very tired, though, Father. I wish to rest as soon as we can—"

"There's no need. Mercy is with me. You can drop the spell."

She seems to be coming around further, and murmurs into the end of her staff. The sight of her releasing the aura around you both— and seriously trusting in you— further eases your nerves.

The starlight that has been enabling you to speak to one another without detection fades from view. The only light that remains comes from the faint outline of the library ahead. Taking a knee, you gesture to Ray to come to your side— just in case.

The shadow that now envelops Mercy's holy symbol cannot eclipse Her warmth and light. The countless cracks along your soul slowly begin to mend, thanks to the comfort of Her embrace. You don't need to speak. There's no need for words between you. You bow your head, and reach out to the countless souls ahead of you that have likely never felt the Goddess of Compassion. You think to your first sermon, and how lost the people of your hometown were that day. You think of how close they all were to falling from Her light indefinitely.

There is no need to speak— but you can't help but whisper a prayer. "Mercy. The afflicted need not be abhorred. The Father asks not for retribution, but for Your grace. Let Our children into Our arms. That We may love them— that We may guide them— release them from their turmoil."

As the last words leave your lips, Time escapes you. The weakness of your flesh is made irrelevant. Every last flaw within your spirit is forgotten. Mercy grants you endless comfort. The Mother reaches out to Her children with open arms.

The Father asks for them to remember hope, and they listen. Hundreds of lost souls have forgotten until now what it is to love. These men and women have fallen so far into their own darkness that they have turned from their very Goddess. They have turned from themselves— and all that it is to be human. Their insanity may have granted them safety from their captors, but it cannot save them from sin.

The connection you all share runs deeper than the skin.

Deeper than blood.

Deeper than even the base of the ruins.

Though your children have been lost, they know that they are found.

The radiance working through you permits your mortal eyes to gaze upon an unholy congregation. They filter down the stone steps in a daze. A familiar, soft glow emanates from their eyes. Not even the darkness of the ruins can stand between Mercy and your children's return. No demonic city can contain them. Their procession is made with your love in their hearts— and Mercy in their sight.

That very same light is in you. It is not merely thanks to the Goddess of Compassion that you can gaze to every lunatic here with an open heart. You stand considerably taller than most men and women of Corcaea, and can recognize the gathering before you as your kin. Unwashed. Untamed. Unhinged. Every bit of tattered cloth and the filth upon their faces obscures all identity, history, and sensibility.

You did not truly come to the ruins for history or nobility. Your bleeding heart looks out to faces lined with weariness. One or two lost souls collapse from exhaustion before ever reaching the crowd before you. Others lean hard onto their fellow man for support. Those with the will to stand of their own volition wait silently for your answer. Several dozen people have now filtered out from the darkness— but many did not possess the strength to reach you.

As the all-encompassing darkness relents, your heart catches in your throat. The very ground you stand on seems to have shifted. Old and new blood alike litters the floor of the ruins. Though the stone underfoot is solid, there are impossibly deep pockets of darkness all around. Your eyes swim as you try to focus on any one of the chasms. A single misstep in this area looks as though it could lead to a plummet down to the base of the world itself. It's far easier to focus on the mounds of debris that loom around every corner.

The buildings up ahead are far closer than you first suspected. All are perched at a stunning elevation. Few railings or banners flank the staircases that lead up to a city of light. Massive towers, sprawling halls, and myriad stone columns creates a dizzying display of sorcery. The moving architecture up ahead is from an age far more advanced than any you recognize.

Your trained eye attempts to focus on the city's illuminated heart. The very sight of it makes your head spin. Though the countless chasms all around appear endless, the base of this structure must extend even deeper still. Its base is shrouded in a darkness that not even Mercy's light can pierce.

Reeling backwards from the abyss, you try to focus on the stairs ahead. You have to crane your neck backwards just to catch a glimpse of the entrance to the library. There must be hundreds of steps between you and your destination. It's a small comfort that the peak of the stairs lies not even halfway up the central structure. No matter how deeply you've delved, you know that this building must be enchanted. It not only extends to the bottom of the world— its outline reaches up into an endless night.

​

The taste of copper is a bitter reminder of the humans that you are asking to save. It's been years since you last asked so much of Mercy. Though you would like to speak out— to reassure Celegwen, or to speak to your flock— blood flows freely from your lips. The strain of losing so much has you waver— but neither hours of pursuit, illness, weakness, or waking nightmares will stop you.

There's just too many of them.

There must be fifty of your children heading towards you— and every one of them feels like another fracture in your soul. It's more than you can take. More than even the Goddess of Love can permit.

You recognize your limits, and wouldn't dare to ask Mercy to hurt you. You release your embrace just enough to keep the men and women gathered before you at a safe distance. They silently waver, with their eyes glazed over by the blessing of Mercy.

A large volume of the screams and laughter from within the city has subsided. It looks like— for a time— you have quelled their madness.

There's no telling how long this will last for.

You bow your head once more. With thanks to Mercy for Her gifts, you release Her. Gold fades from your vision. A shaky effort is made to wipe the blood from your face. Your robes are so filthy, the gesture is practically useless. Even an attempt to stagger to your feet has you nearly collapse from the effort.

Ray moves right by your side and leans into you to prevent a fall. You grit your teeth, and try to rise again. You're so dizzy, you have to immediately take a knee again. Every limb aches and burns. You may have exerted Mercy’s will over far more individuals in the past, but these lost souls were far harder to sway. It's a miracle you're still moving at all.

Celegwen sees your struggle to rise, and comes up behind you. Before you can protest, she wraps your arm around her shoulder. You're only a few inches taller than her, and are significantly lighter. She's able to help you to your feet with some effort.

“Thank you.” You murmur while trying to wipe more blood away from your face— hoping to not get any on her.

She looks out to the subdued mass before you. "It seems that whatever you've done has worked."

"It won't—" You wince, interrupting yourself to clutch onto your sides and chest. Your lungs and heart feel like they're on fire.

The elf gestures for you to lean harder into her. "Are you going to be alright?"

"It won't last for long.” She doesn’t call you out for deflecting. “Please help keep me on my feet. I am— I am not finished here."

Her sword is put up to better shoulder you, while her scowl persists. "Go on."

Over swaying bodies and weary heads, you look to the furthest edges of the crowd. It appears that no one else is leaving the city yet. "I hate to ask..." You dare to meet Celegwen’s gaze for a split second— before you dart your eyes away. "Can you dissipate the sound around us all? I want them to hear me in the back, but—"

"No. You'll have to make this quick, Father."

The frown on your face is etched about as deeply as it can get. You won't compromise Mercy’s word, and straighten up as best as you can. Pain radiates within your chest, throughout your back— and stops at your voice. You are a preacher, and speak clearly.

Music

"I know you are lost."

You look to the last few humans trickling down from the library’s steps. There's not a demon in sight. You dare to throw your voice further.

"Do we not all stray? Is it not human to turn from one another? There is no need to wander. My children, you have been blessed. You have been embraced by Mercy. She has guided you away from your madness and into Her light. You need not stray from Her path. You need only accept Her into your heart—"

A wave of blood comes up with a violent cough. You restrain yourself as best as you can, turn your head, and spit the crimson to the floor of the ruins. It takes a moment to remember how to breathe, with how badly your chest is aching. It feels like it's getting harder to stand, but you redouble your efforts. You almost thought you saw someone move in the crowd.

"You need not practice Her tenets to feel Her this day. You need not fear Her. There is nothing to fear more than the absence of Her light. There is NOTHING— no greater suffering— than to stray from Her path."

A hooded figure has his head bowed not in delirium— but in thought. As desperately as you want to continue, you’re unable to speak any further. The start of more blood is at the back of your throat, and all throughout your chest. The last of your strength goes to projecting one more phrase.

"The Gods are Merciful."

You double over and pull away from Celegwen as you cough violently into your sleeve. She grabs you hard by your shoulders and waist to keep you from collapsing to the floor. Ray whines against your side.

Something has gone horribly wrong. This much blood shouldn’t be flowing after an invocation. Just as Celegwen opens her lips to speak, you wheeze, "there—! That— that man!" You point with a violently trembling arm. So much blood has been produced from your cough, crimson can be clearly seen against the black of your ragged sleeves. "Please. We need to—" Another wet cough interjects your plea. Frustrated, you simply point again and try to pull Celegwen towards the man's direction. She complies, and shoulders all of Ofelia's gear as you slowly make your way into the crowd. "Step— aside—!"

Another frustrated motion is made to the throng ahead of you. With a wave of your arm, the quelled mass gently parts before you.

I'm still controlling them.

They move with complete subservience as you’re helped towards the hooded individual. He remains unresponsive, and keeps his head bowed as you approach. His appearance gives you serious pause. His face is scarred— though nowhere near as much as yours. His skin is paler than death, though he seems relatively young and unharmed by the ruins. Aside from the redness of his hair, the many freckles discoloring his features, and his presence here at the base of the world— you're taken aback by how normal he seems.

He doesn't speak. The man is either lost in thought, or is unwilling to acknowledge your company. You all stop a few feet before him. There’s no sound to be heard of violence in the distance. No sight of anyone approaching. Nevertheless, Celegwen says, "we need to be brief, Father."

You swallow another wave of blood, and look the lost soul straight in the face. "Step into Her light, my son. There is no need for fear."

The man raises his eyes to yours. They're full of light.

​

"You are not afraid. Speak, my son." You try to not lose your patience at his nod in response. "There is little time for us here. What would you wish for yourself?"

His voice comes out dry and withered with strain. "Mercy."

You can tell the tone was once strong, despite its current state. Yet even after scrutinizing his tattered clothing, you can't make out any identifying markers. No crests. No holy symbols. Nothing of note save for the unusual hue of his hair and skin. "Who are you?"

The man's voice sinks deeply into himself, as if he could find the answer in his very soul. "I do not recall."

"You seem to be far better off than many, here— do you know why?"

"I hid." Vigilance suddenly hyper-focuses the man's features. "They are coming."

The footsteps are unmistakable now. Ray begins growling, and Celegwen starts to pull you away. "We don't have time for this, Father—"

"No—!" You cough, and struggle against her with everything you have. There was courage in this man’s tone. You match his intensity, despite barely being able to stand. "Lead these people away from here. Seek the surface to safety. Look for the spiders with bells. Tell them that Father Anscham is guiding you— Celegwen, please—!"

"There are demons ahead, Father. You have attracted them once again."

The elf succeeds in dragging you away— but neither her, nor the rapid beat of your heart can stop you from hearing his reply.

"I will."