Prologue

The resonating sound of her cane falling against the stone floor was what brought Bel-Alis out of her drowsiness, making her jerk awake and almost fall from her chair. Her hand hit the ink bottle on the side of the table in a desperate attempt to not fall from her seat, the vessel breaking on the floor and dirtying the rim of her pants with the spillage.

Bel-Alis stared at the accident with the unblinking eyes of someone not yet awake, cursing softly under her breath when her brain found enough energy to understand what had happened. Passing a tired hand over her sleepy face, she tightened her dark hair in the usual messy bun and got up from the chair, hands resting on the top of the table for support. It took her merely a moment to right herself and, with her regained balance, bend to grab the cane.

Limping as usual, the young woman went towards a corner of her room and found the dry, coarse, stained cloth she used to clean her place. With lazy motions, and begrudging the incident all the while, Bel-Alis flexed a tiny portion of energy and watched the glass shards sink into the stone to become a clear scar on her floor. The attentive eye would see that this was not the only one on the small area around her desk.

Dangerous shards away, she threw the cloth over the small puddle and mentally patted herself on the back for a job well done. Her legs slowly took her back to the table where she worked and, checking if the ink on her papers was already dry 一 which it was 一 put them under her arm. Back turned to the small candle-lit room, Bel-Alis left through the bare entrance with a low, content hum.

Beyond her room, the underground ruins were an expanse displayed all around her, a massive chamber where a dilapidated building stood against the efforts of time, carved of the same light gray rock all around. It rose four stories tall, the walls and corners sculpted carefully with the images and curves also displayed on the smaller buildings that surrounded the central one. The ruins, by Bel-Alis's estimation, should easily fit about twenty thousand people all around, perhaps even more if she were to consider the unexplored tunnels on the opposite side of where she stood, leading deep into the earth and darkness.

Still, for a place that stood deep under asdenian territory 一 known for its mines and precious stones 一 the ruins were surprisingly bare of any decoration. To the point that, during her initial analysis of the place and through the subsequent two years of study, Bel-Alis had a hard time finding any remnants of precious decoration; no golden filigree, or silver instruments and utensils. Not even specific groves for the precious gems to be into were present along the walls and ceilings.

It went against all she knew of the ancient southeastern societies of Ethios, which were known for having an incredible ostentatious culture. The number of dungeons in the region was a testament to that.

The lack of material treasures, however, never bothered Bel-Alis, for this place had something that was worth a lot more to her. History. Secrets so abundant that she was certain would be enough to elevate her to a new rank.

Hoping that the time spent underground would be worth it, she limped through the wide-open courtyard at the entrance of the ruins 一 her cave being located on the side of the tunnel leading towards the place. Here, rising from the ground, was a circle of stone about a meter and a half tall. On the edge, were piles and piles of notes, papers and diaries; Bel-Alis's entire research of the community’s language, customs and history was organized and based on the remaining artwork and many, many trance sessions.

Putting her newest findings 一 a fifteen-page essay about the odd, mushroom-eating rats that occupied the ruins alongside her 一 on the portion she liked to call 'What came after?' Bel-Alis pridefully jumped over the edge and entered the circle of stone.

Inside, the floor instead of being the same gray rock of the cave was made of dark, humid earth 一 a change Bel-Alis had made with her [Delver’s Terrain] Ability when she first moved here. Using [Knowledge is Never Alone] to summon a vial of thick, purple liquid that moved as if abyssal water, the researcher used the bottom of her cane to draw an odd rune on the compact soil: a pair of arrows positioned in a narrowing angle at the tip, side by side, with a spiral between the sharp ends.

When the drawing was completed, she tipped the vial in her hands and let the conjured dark purple ink flow into the grooves, the liquid spreading to complete the rune as if prompted by an unknown force. With the sigil filled and emanating a lilac glow, Bel-Alis left the circle and stood by the low wall, hands pointing upwards in adoration.

“I call upon the Master in The Dark for this humble sacrifice made with faith and knowledge,” Her eyes vanished little by little with every word, melting to reveal the orbits in her skull, black and fathomless. “The One that Watches, The Endless Abyss, It Which Knows. Your servant has an offering in the truest of your names:”

Faith curled around Bel-Alis's fingers like snakes and, where it touched, the world sank. Shadows darkened and elongated, becoming grasping fingers as they were stretched by the changing perspective. The ground folded within itself, hiding from its primordial opposition. All dimensions multiplied before her patron, for It is the Tunnel of No End, and space is irrelevant before It.

“The Depths!”

The earth inside the stone circle crumbled under the presence of what the Deaconess of The Deep called, vanishing inside a hole that swallowed all there was, dark and endless.

It. Saw. Her.

And It was pleased.

Tentacles made of secrets, whispering forbidden knowledge that echoed and festered inside the ruins, touched the year of research made in Its name. The arms of shadow and folding space caressed every letter in every word, nauseatingly reading through all versions of what was written. Here and There. Now and Then.

The papers vanished inside the abyss soundlessly, but Bel-Alis, now Priestess, felt within her a grating, eldritch, cursed small laugh.

The presence waned, Its gift growing inside her bosom as an answer to her effort during all this time. It still sought more, and she felt the attention branding her fully as one of Its own. It would watch. As It always did.

Her joy lasted long, her abilities growing and changing as she followed the path of her deity. Bel-Alis’ happiness was so all-encompassing she never noticed the black, silent lightning strike the ruins beyond her, piercing the soil above as if air. She would deal with the consequences in time.

A storm raged on the outside, raining and thundering all around Asden, blanketing the queendom in water and lightning. Bel-Alis was one of many; growing, changing, waging war.

And like it always did, the world rebuked it all.