The pickaxe rose and fell at a steady pace. With each impact, Ulvor felt his barren mind slowly reconstituting itself. The sensations of feeling gradually came sweeping back. He had no grasp of time...but his memory of everything was perfect, as if someone else had commandeered his body and rendered him a passenger in his own life. Was it that strange pale woman? Had she bewitched him?

He recalled everything with perfect detail, but he didn't feel like he was conscious for it all. The last few weeks of following the heretics, the Clthics, and serving them as a layman felt like a foggy dream. He knew exactly what happened, but he did not feel like the choices made were his own.

Why was he here? The first thought that trailed across his mind was that he was now a servant of Mythar Tehreem, the supreme leader of the Clthics, speaker of truths and breaker of lies. But...that wasn’t right, was it? No. False intentions. It was his son. Havar. He was trying to find his son.

He froze, dropping his pickaxe. As Ulvor sent his frantic gaze around, he found himself in a damp tunnel carved into the earth. Dozens of others, men and women, were digging away at the walls. His eyes dug at their faces as his breathing hastened.

“You alright, mate?”

The woodsman ignored the words and paced across the cavernous space to better see the faces that were obscured in his previous line of sight. One by one, each only brought him disappointment and a number of confused glances from the other workers.

He felt a gentle jab on his shoulder. He looked to his right and saw a broad and burly woman. Her name was Alison…she was the foreman. “Oi, back to work, aye?"

Ulvor scoffed at her and made for the tunnel's exit. However, the next thing he felt on that same shoulder was not quite as soft. Someone had seized him and spun him about. The next thing he knew, he was staring into the eye sockets of a grotesque amalgam of two human skulls.

With a sharp gasp, Ulvor staggered backward.

It was a man who wore the aforementioned tableau of death as a mask and had an array of pendants laced around his neck. One of them was the size of a closed book and had a tiny glowing light on its side. His neck and shoulders were covered by a mantle made of the skeletal remains of human feet. His body was otherwise bare.

From his time spent here, Ulvor knew that this man belonged to the Tethspeakers, one of the two cults of witches that served the Clthic cause. They could influence the living world with their strange gestural incantations and mystic runes, as well as raise the dead with vile necromancy.

The Tethspeaker cocked his head. "Where are you going?"

"I-I…I was…"

Raising his hand to Ulvor, the Tethspeaker said, "The time for rest is not now, child. Work the hours you have agreed to work, and you will have earned your respite."

The stare of the Tethspeaker's lavender eyes from behind the sockets of his skull mask was like the stare of the Devil himself.

Ulvor nodded weakly, saying, "Y-Yes, oh infernal instrument."

The Tethspeaker seemed pleased with Ulvor's use of the correct religious title for a witch, turning and striding out of the cavern via its entrance tunnel. He couldn't afford to blow his cover. Being seen as one of these demonists was the only way he was going to find his son.

Some of the other workers stopped their motions and stared at Ulvor.

"Oi, what was that? You alright, then?" pressed Alison.

"I'm fine," he muttered, scooping his pickaxe back up and returning to work.

“Right,” she said sceptically, keeping an eye on him as she turned back to the cave wall. Ulvor could tell that she must’ve worked in mines before. Her physique as well as how she handled her tools reminded him of how comfortable he was with axes and saws. "We've been working away in here for weeks, never seen you lose your mind like that before."

Ulvor said nothing in response, choosing instead to focus on chipping the rock with his pickaxe.

As he continued digging, Ulvor's passive memories bubbled to the surface of his mind. The purpose of this archaeological undertaking was to unearth more demonic artefacts to use to achieve the Enlightenment. After all, the arcane staves wielded by the faith's black sorcerers had to come from somewhere. Such magical weapons would make short work of the Thestor Grand Hosts, Tehreem just needed more of them. Ulvor didn't care about any of that, though. He just wanted to get out of here and find Havar.

"You never told me why you came here," Alison asked.

Ulvor's shoulders tightened up and his brow furrowed. "It's none of yer business."

"Well, aren't you suddenly a right git?" she sung. "What if I go first then, aye?"

Ulvor's reflexes weren't quite fast enough to prevent Alison from rambling.

“The Church has a few simple rules if you want a child; marry, go to church, and listen to what the Scripture tells you of right and wrong. Thirty years I’ve been married, mate. Prayed every day. Wasn’t sinful. Never got a child. All those unfaithful, adultering, violent animals out there, they ain’t as unfortunate.”

All things considered, Ulvor thought she had a point. Churches were built upon birthing sites, the places where new life entered the world. Because they claimed them, only the Church could decide who was worthy of children. Many have tried to seize churches in the past in order to allocate their own children, but every single one of these ‘heretical’ uprisings met a bloody end by the hands of the Knights Thestor. There were apparently tribes who lived in the wilderness around birthing sites that were so remote that the Church hadn't claimed them. Who knew if any of that was true?

“It also had me thinking. God’s a crazy son of a bitch, you know what I mean?”

Ulvor raised his eyebrows as his arms continued swinging his pickaxe. “Yes…I think I do."

“All these things happen, absolutely random. People just drop dead for no reason. And then, think of the children. They get kidnapped by valhnid, eaten by wolves, drowned by merfolk. God sees everything, aye? He sees a little girl getting swallowed by an ogre and he says ‘oh, lookit that. That’s something, ain’t it?’.” Suddenly, her entire demeanour plummeted straight off a cliff. Her face darkened, her eyes throbbed. “He is a sick, twisted fuck.”

Ulvor sighed heavily. I really don't want ta admit it…but I understand her misgivin's. What I don't understand is running off ta join a demon cult just 'cause life isn't fair.

At the snap of her fingers, the woman’s face was once again lathered with a welcoming grin, “Now that you’ve heard my gospel, are you gonna be polite and share?”

Ulvor's teeth clenched. Everyone in these caves, well, everyone but Ulvor, was a devout believer of Tehreem's new doctrine. They were all insane. There was no telling if they'd flay him alive if he said the wrong thing. I need ta play along, don't I? It's tha only way I'll ever get answers.

“Me wife. About a decade ago, she was set upon by knights. Tritan knights who earned their keep by maraudin' their own land and stealin' along the roads. God didn't give a shit when they raped and butchered her in front of me and me son. That's why I'm 'ere."

It wasn't a lie…but he figured it might work.

The woman huffed. “You got a son? Fuck you, then.”

Ulvor emitted a muted laugh.

"What’s his name?”

“Havar. He joined tha cause before I did, never told me where he went…so part of me is tryin' ta find 'im. He's pretty much a man now…but I always see 'im as my little boy. I just wanna make sure he's safe."

Alison’s cheeks softened and her lips thinned. “I can't imagine what that would feel like. Having a child then…losing them. It must be painful.”

"I don't even know if he's alive. I suppose…I can't even consider that he isn't. That's what keeps me goin'."

"…I know someone who works in the archives. He might be able to dig through the disciple records and find out where your boy is if he's joined us."

The woodsman stopped his digging and straightened his posture. With his brow wrinkled and eyes focused, he looked at Alison and asked, "Why? Why tha bloody hell wouldja do that for?"

The woman waved a hand dismissively at Ulvor. “What's the matter with you?"

Ulvor growled under his breath. "I just don't understand. We hardly know each other. Why help me?"

Alison retorted, "Because I'd bloody hell wish someone would do the same thing if that happened to me."

His head throbbed and he ran a hand down his face. I don't think I'll ever understand this lot. One minute they're praisin’ tha Devil, tha next they're offerin’ acts of kindness.

"Please tell me what ya find." This was the best apology anyone could get out of Ulvor.

Alison didn't seem too thrilled by it, but she said anyway, "If anyone has children or loved ones, they should be able to spend as much time with them as they can before the Enlightenment. When that happens, all emotion will be removed from us. Yes, all the pain will stop, but so will the pleasure. You should be able to make the most of all that before it's gone."

The next hour passed in verbal silence. The syncopated 'clinks' of steel against stone was a disorganised and sloppy rhythm that only made Ulvor more and more jittery. He kept striking the stone, not knowing what else he could do. He started thinking about Havar. What if he was already dead and Ulvor was here for nothing? What if Havar hated being with him so much that he ran away? The questions kept coming and none of them made Ulvor feel any better.

Ulvor sent an especially fierce blow onto the stone, cleaving a sizable chunk of material from it. As the large fragment of rock fell to the ground with a thud, Ulvor was left squinting at what it revealed upon the wall.

It was not stone, not at all. The surface was coal black and incredibly smooth, like a piece of well-made and heavily-polished armour. He leant closer and pressed a hand against it. It was…warm to the touch.

All of a sudden, a paralysing fear surfaced in his stomach. Whatever he found…what if it was some kind of ancient demonic weapon? What if it would help them in slaughtering innocent people? He couldn't just…hand it over to them, could he? Maybe he should just not say anything…sabotage this excavation.

Ulvor sent a painstakingly slow glance over his left shoulder. Everyone else was focused on their own work. Then, he looked over his right. Alison stared wide-eyed at the mysterious object.

Fer God’s sake…

“By the fires…!” Alison gasped as she knelt by the cave wall and touched the strange material. “I think you’ve found something!”

Some of the other miners came drifting over, mesmerised by the object.

Ulvor swallowed. “Maybe it’s nothin’ but some peculiar kind of ore…we shouldn’t waste tha Mythar’s time with it.”

“Better to be safe than sorry, aye?” Alison slowly rose up. “Somebody go get the Mythar. Now!”

The woodsman cursed under his breath.

For an excruciating amount of time, Ulvor and the other miners were forced to just sit there and wait. No one wanted to risk defiling a sacred artefact. Only Mythar Tehreem and his acolytes knew the secrets of the demonic relics and how to extract them safely. Ulvor’s senses heightened as his instincts told him to just make a break for it.

When he finally worked up the courage to pace for the exit, Ulvor could’ve sworn that the temperature dropped. Mythar Tehreem floated into the cavern, flanked by two of his witches. One of them was the Tethspeaker from earlier. Ulvor’s heart hastened in its throbbing.

The Mythar was draped in an exquisite royal purple houppelande. His face was framed by that same crown of outward-fanning human fingers that he wore so often.

The other witch was a tall woman wearing nothing but tattered footwraps, ragged vambraces laced with human teeth, an ornamental pauldron crafted with dozens of human ribs strung together, and an antlered skull of a deer as a mask. Tightly gripped in her right hand was an arcane staff.

The heretic religion was protected and spread by the Clthic Nuns, the second cult of witches devoted to the Mythar’s teachings. An order of women who, like the all male Tethspeakers, have discarded their humanity and embraced their true nature as soulless instruments of the Devil. Each Nun could sow immense death with the black magic within their staves. Where the Tethspeakers would manipulate and influence with sorcery, the Clthic Nuns would destroy and eviscerate with destructive magic.

Tehreem was instantly drawn to the wall behind Alison and Ulvor. He cocked his head as he simply stared at it for a moment or two.

“Ulvor came across this just now.”

The Mythar lowered a warm stare onto Ulvor, causing him to get even more tense. “Your devotion has been rewarded, my child.”

“What is it, Your Excellency? Is it a relic?” asked Alison.

With an amused chuckle, he shook his head. “Before He and His servants withdrew from our world, they left gifts for us. Our divine creators erected the ossuaries and sealed within them objects of their infinite power. This is the wall of an ossuary, my child, impenetrable to any worldly means. But we are able to outstep this world.”

The Tethspeaker handed a small spherical object to the Clthic Nun who strolled up to the strange material embedded in the wall and fastened the object to it.

“If you would, my faithful servants, remove yourselves. I wouldn’t want anyone sustaining injuries with so much more work to do.”

Ulvor watched as everyone else slunk back towards the entrance tunnel. People bunched up in front of the exit, once again preventing him from taking flight. Reluctantly, he joined the crowd of miners. He watched as the Tethspeaker looked at the strange device on the wall and raised his hand. Suddenly, a series of floating blue glyphs appeared at his fingertips. He directed a finger toward a particular glyph.

An incredible burst of force ripped through the cave, shattering stone and shaking the very foundation of the earth itself. Ulvor’s ears were overcome by an unbearable rumbling laced through with screams. He squinted at the silhouette of the Tethspeaker at the forefront of the cluster of people.

In his hand was a large object resembling a lantern and from it was projected a shimmering blue wall of light. Debris and dust bounced against it as if it was a solid stone. The ethereal barrier continued protecting the group of miners until the rumbling of the world ceased.

When the smoke cleared, a gigantic hole now replaced the tiny slither of the ossuary wall. Tehreem barked commands and the two witches took their steps forward. The Nun held her staff at the ready as she approached the now accessible ossuary.

The Tethspeaker continued waving his hands through the strange magical symbols. “Mythar, the ossuary is still imbued.”

“Excellent. Will you illuminate it, please?” Tehreem asked politely.

Ulvor watched in confusion as the Tethspeaker continued with his hypnotising motions. The endless void of darkness that was the interior of the demonic chamber was suddenly flushed with light. Many of the other miners gasped and took several steps away. Alison, however, was at the Nun’s side, bewildered by what she saw.

Tehreem paced through the crowd and slipped by his two witches. “Come, witness your discovery!” he called with excitement oozing from his voice.

The other miners slowly trailed in, hesitant but awestruck. Ulvor found himself alone outside the ossuary. His eyes travelled to the now uncongested tunnel that led back to the surface. Even if I do run, where should I go? Alison is tha only lead I’ve got. When Ulvor turned back to the ossuary entrance, the Clthic Nun was standing within its embrace, with her attention solely upon him. Her pale blue eyes locked onto his and she stood there motionless as she stared.

Ulvor growled to himself, “God…” as he strode out of the cavern and into the chamber. He came closer and closer to the Nun as she stood sentinel in the entrance, eyes still pinned on him. Ulvor passed in front of her, noting that she was almost a head taller than him. He avoided meeting her gaze.

Once reunited with Alison and the other miners, Ulvor was surrounded by rows and rows of peculiar shelves. They were lined with objects that he couldn’t even hope to understand. Tehreem approached one of these racks and plucked one of the devices from it. Now, as Tehreem turned the thing over in his hands, Ulvor supposed it resembled a crossbow without its limbs attached.

"Fascinating. Simply fascinating," exclaimed the Mythar.

Tehreem then set the object back down before approaching the Tethspeaker. When Ulvor’s eyes traced over to the two men, he felt his heart stop beating.

Suspended in the air by an array of steel scaffolding attached to the ceiling and a mess of strange ropes and cords, were dozens of midnight black bodies. They were faceless and thin, basically skeletal. Ulvor could see all manner of exposed joints, bones, veins, and tendons all over them. His stomach lurched upward and he had to fight the urge to vomit.

“By all that is…” Tehreem muttered. “Are they…dead?”

Even the stoic Tethspeaker seemed to be enthralled by the faceless men floating above them. He fiddled with his arcane projections before replying, “No, Mythar. Simply asleep.”

Tehreem turned back to face his followers, a euphoric grin on his face. “You stand here before the first slaves, legionnaires of the Ebon Cult; painless, emotionless warriors the likes of which this world has not seen since Hell receded into the depths. But they are simple, my children. They require direction, direction that only we as their reclaimers can provide.”

Suddenly, the Tethspeaker froze solid after he stared at his floating characters for some time. Amidst the clutter of the ossuary, Ulvor’s eyes came to rest on a peculiar object. It was a barrel-shaped thing with an array of long rods emerging from it, pointing toward the sky. This object started to hum and arcane lights flashed along its lateral edges.

The Tethspeaker’s array of runes shimmered then coalesced, converging upon each other until it formed the image of a large sphere that floated before the witch. Ulvor squinted at it. The shapes upon it…he recognised Tritania. It was a map of the world.

A single mote of red light was pinned on the lower rim of Tritania. It pulsated urgently.

“What is that…that beacon? What does it signify?” Tehreem mused.

The Tethspeaker mulled over his runes and swallowed. “I-I do not know.”

Tehreem growled lowly, ran a hand along the surface of his scalp, then took a deep breath inward. “Wake S’teinel from his slumber and let him sanitise the locale. We cannot have the Church stumbling upon what could be another sacred relic and destroying it in their infinite ignorance. It would be much easier for us to search amongst a sea of dead.”

A single question echoed over and over in Ulvor’s mind as his fingers curled inward. What have I done?