Leor swallowed hard, squinted into the bowels of the abyss that seemed to swallow the world whole. His heart raced as he strained his eyes to find something in the suffocating void blanketed with a sheet of fog.

The darkness here breathed, lived, gnawed at him with frosty teeth as if it were a living beast hungry for his soul. The solar dial, his only source of light, flickered weakly, casting eerie shadows on the jagged walls around him. If not for its feeble glow, he’d fear losing his hands. He gave the rope frequent squeezes to remind himself they were still his, the rough fibers digging into his skin. Though he could not say the same for his feet. They were the first to feel the empty space when he reached the rope’s end. Kicking around and scrambling for the absent ground.

“Planning to move any time today?” Emilia called out from above. Her dirty boot tapped him on the head.

“In a moment,” Leor yelled back but was uncertain she heard him through the howling winds. He narrowed his eyes harder as if that would make him less blind in the dark, searching for the swarm of rats he had followed. Below, a foggy sea. To his sides, pitch-black walls seeming to close in on him. Nothing, absolute nothing. He would slap himself if he could. A stupid, stupid man. Stupid for thinking he could follow rats without their senses. “What the hell was I thinking?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Leor wondered if he should admit defeat and tell her to climb back up. There was a bitter exchange in his mind. He could hear it now, all the shit she’d give him for wasting time and following damned rats. She’ll lose what little faith she had in me, most like. He chuckled. After convincing her to aid me in the trials too.

A sudden gust roared past, rocking the rope to a terrible slant. Leor squeezed tight, almost yelling as he felt his head tilting closer to the gorge. This is it. This is where I die, he thought, clamping his eyes shut.

Jump.

“Eh?” He cracked an eye open, unsure if his ears were playing a cruel trick before he met his end.

Jump now!

This time he heard it clear as a slap to the face. A woman’s voice, sweet and demanding. Leor hesitated, unsure if he should trust the voice, but then the wind dropped dead in an instant, the rope swooped low, his heart crawled up his throat. Leor leapt as the rope swung forward, plunged into the cold abyss, screaming with tears rolling out of the corner of his eyes. His foot caught something hard. Swords rattling as he crashed to a halt, face planted onto a rough surface. He groped the dark. Cold; rigid; familiar. “Stone,” he laughed. Almost had the urge to kiss it. “Beautiful stone.”

Soon after, Leor heard Emilia screaming, followed by a skittering thud. She yanked him to his feet. “You madman!” She barked, but her lips were curled up, part disbelief, part amazed. A pain shot up in his arm. Leor winced. A tiny little whine broke through his teeth and she let him go. “Sorry, I forgot.”

Leor rubbed his right arm softly, afraid of another blistering shock. “Wasn’t you — Think I rolled onto it.”

“Poor thing.” Her face showed not a shred of concern if he could see it. She took a ragged breath. “Well, no point in dawdling about. Lead the way,”

“Should it not be you who takes lead?”

Emilia tilted her head. “And why is that?”

“The one who finds the path should lead.”

The white of her eye narrowed. “Perhaps you hit your head as well?”

“You told me to jump.”

Her face grew more puzzled. “I’ve said no such thing.”

They stood in silence, sizing up one another, waiting for the other to laugh it off as a poorly-timed joke, but neither of them broke. Leor was certain he heard a woman telling him to jump. If not her. . . His eyes darted around. Everything was deathly still.

Leor cleared his throat. “Right. . . must have been the wind.”

Further into the darkness the floor grew rugged, the air damp with frost, and the space quiet. Their boots clacked on the black stone, echoing into the void. The sunlight above was a distant memory. Cold wind clawed at his clothes hard enough to fell him if he were not careful.

And that was needed.

The thickening fog obscured their vision of the increasingly rough terrain. The damn haze returns. His skin crawling with goosebumps, Leor shivered and pulled up his collar. He had spent most of his boyhood in caves, picking at fresh scabs his mentor warned him against, trembling himself to sleep from the cold and constant dangers that were always lurking in the darkness of the Edgewoods. He had grown accustomed to the dark, made it his comfort. Or so he thought.

Here it was different. There was something in the air that irked him. Something familiar yet foreign all at once. Like returning home and finding it burned and forgotten in time. Was it the way the wind and haze coiled around him, brushed against his skin, almost purposeful? Or perhaps it was the prickling sense that eyes watched them pass from places he could not see.

He glanced at Emilia beside him. Her longsword flickered a soft violet glow across her unwavering gaze. She does not sense it or has mastery in guise. Which one was worse, he could not say. A person’s true character is found in their eyes, and if your enemies have dead ones, you’d best make sure they’re truly dead. That’s what his mentor had told him during one of his numerous drunken fits.

His curiosity got the best of him. She was much too calm. “You know where we’re headed?”

“No, can’t say that I do.”

“You seem awfully calm about wandering around blind.”

Emilia glanced at him, her face still hard as stone. “Calm? No. Much the opposite. I am to be by Lord Alden’s side and I’m stuck in the bowels of this forsaken gorge.” She let out a deep sigh. “But the only way is forward.”

“Forward. . .” As far as the dark would allow, he saw their path was more of an open field than a hallway. “Are you certain this is forward?”

“By all means, lead the way if you know better. Care to share how you came across this path?”

It didn’t take much to wonder why she was suspicious. He had not told her about the guiding shadow when he led the way over the ridge, she did not hear the voice that called to him, and the path they walked was impossible to find in the dark.

“Would you believe me if I said it was mere luck?” His lips crinkled into a smile as genuine as he could muster.

She scoffed and pointed to the black ground. “Not even the luckiest man alive would have stumbled across this shadow-painted pathway.”

“I suppose so.” Leor trailed off to think of his next words carefully. “Well, I’d love to lead the way but I lack a guiding light.” He waved the lichtsword, flicked it in the air, poked it awake, but the Licht Order steel remained dead. “Damn thing hasn’t worked since I picked it up.”

“What do you mean?”

“The damn sword. It was glowing like a star when I found it.” He tempered the urge to leave it behind since it still cut well.

The Dragonslayer raised a brow at him as if she had misheard him or thought him stupid. “Well…yes, of course. You are not Oathbound.”

“And how do I become Oathbound?”

Emilia giggled. “By swearing an oath, you fool.”

“No shit. To whom?”

“It's not too hard to put together, even for a purblight. It is called a ‘lichtsword’, after all.”

“No, that can’t be,” he said, shaking his head and thinking back to Afzal’s staff that he himself had severed. “I’ve met other oathless mercs who had Soul Arms of similar nature.”

“A fake, then. A scheme sold to the public. The realm is short on fighting bodies and artificially blessed weapons stir up the people’s will to fight.” She touched the lichtsword’s edge and scraped her spiny gauntleted finger against the metal. “This one is real if you picked it off a Knight of the Order. They carry true oathbound armaments.”

He studied the average-looking blade. Other than the obnoxious golden cross guard, the Rays of the Licht Order engraved into the shoulder, and the large ruby in the pommel, nothing stood out. “I don’t see the difference.”

“Most cannot. On the surface and in oathless hands, it appears to be just a simple tool, but each House has their own means of blessing their armaments with their Lord’s strength.”

Leor eyed her spluttering blade. “And what is yours?”

“Do you plan on swearing an oath?” Emilia smiled, confident she had her answer before he could utter a word. She climbed over a small mound standing just below her chest. A clump of dark ashen stone that stretched on for what seemed like forever. The first of its kind in this pillarless, archless, empty place.

Oath, Leor thought to himself as he laid the lichtsword atop the mound. Violet-and-gold shimmered from his finger when he gripped the edge with his left. “Storm’s Decree,” he said to the Dragonslayer, showing her the ring as he launched to her side. “It is an Oathbound armament, is it not? How can I wield its power being oathless?”

Emilia’s mouth gaped open, but nothing came out, her eyes staring blankly at him, frozen in time. As if the words had been stolen from her. It was the first time he had stunned her so. Who would have guessed it’d taste so sweet? “I’m not sure,” she said after a long silence. “That is to say, no one knows why the true ring was in circulation. Only replicas were distributed to the lords and their lordlings. And yet, no one has awakened Storm’s Decree in who-knows-how-long.”

“Until me.”

Her face twitched with much annoyance. “Until you.”

“Why would your King give away the true ring?”

“To that, I hold no opinions. Whatever Lord Ludwig has planned, I am certain it is for the benefit of mankind.”

Benefit of mankind, Leor growled to himself. That can’t be all. . . such a poor trade for Ceri’s life. “There must be a reason. A song? A tale? An adage? Something that would provide insight.” The horrible memory flashed in his mind. The Accursed Knight, her murderer, stripping the ring from her corpse. He did his best to swallow the seething flame within his throat. “She was killed for the ring. Don’t let it be in vain.”

That shook her, he could see it on her face. Emilia stared into her violet blade, her eyes low with a longing look of sadness. “There’s a saying echoed in our house. The first oath of man:

O’ blood of mine, teeming with gentle vigor, melt the curse away and grant me thy strength to shoulder the burden. O’ blood of mine, give me thy hand and I vow to thee my being, my blood, my soul. Bound for life eternal and death beyond, to thee, O’ blood of mine, forevermore.

The essence of a true oath said by none other than Lord Ludwig himself.”

There was a brief pause as he was preparing for a slap to the face. “A lovely story, no doubt.” Leor swallowed. He felt a bit uncomfortable but he mustered the courage to ask, “But how does that help?”

“The ring, of course, came in twos. A set for the betrothed. Seeing as the King gifted it to the Queen, our house believes the tale holds the key to unlocking the ring’s strength.”

“So, what? The key is love? Marriage?” He realized how childlike and fantastical that sounded and couldn’t help but smirk.

Emilia scoffed. “If it were something so simple, the strength would have already been unleashed.”

True enough. As much love he held for Ceri, Leor found it hard to believe others did not hold the same, if not more, for another. Be it lovers or not. Then what could it be? He wondered, repeating the oath under his breath as he thumbed Ceri’s ring.

The path became overgrown with ashen mounds, swallowing up the black stone beneath and leaving only small pools of it between the gaps. Even the ashen rock seemed to be fighting itself for a spot on the surface.

There would be moments where all was smooth trekking; other times the ground rose and fell like terrible waves. Layer upon layer, without a sense of pattern. It was a tedious affair to climb up and down the ripples, and Leor could not help but curse it.

Deeper still, figures loomed ahead, shrouded in darkness. Leor and Emilia gave each other a nod and approached carefully, blades ready. As they drew closer, the figures remained eerily still in the pale fog thick as paste, their features slowly revealing themselves in the light. All around, statues molded of the ashen rock stared at them with harrowing faces. Sockets emptied of eyes, mouths snapped open in a frozen scream. All facing outward in panic motions: running, crawling, praying. Even these had no semblance of pattern. The statues came coupled and isolated. Some stood as tall as Leor, others to his knee. First there were only a handful, then a dozen, and soon more than one could fathom.

Wary, they made their way through the maze. Leor kept his blade up, afraid a statue may come to life and leap at him at any moment. He didn’t like it here. No one in their right mind would. It was too easy to be snuck up on, too easy to be killed and forgotten, and there was a dreadful sense that the statues were walling closer.

His wandering eyes glossed over the faces and he shuddered when he saw the most grotesque statue in the swarm. A cluster of ghoulish faces and outreached limbs clambering over one another desperately as if being washed away from the impossibly tall pillar rising from the center mass.

“Nasty looking thing,” Leor muttered. “Those Litherians have a sick sense of taste. This some kind of crypt?”

“None that I’ve known. Perhaps it's an effigy to ward off grave robbers.”

“Well, it's doing its duty. Shit is terrifying. The sculptors must have been mad or drunk when they made these.”

Emilia raised her sword’s light. “What do you make of the stalk in the middle?”

“Tall.”

“Very insightful. I’m asking if you think it’ll lead back to the surface?”

He studied the pillar. It looked sturdy enough to hold their weight, had protrusions to grab and step on, but with the peak lost in the dark, he could only guess how long it would take to reach the top. His arm did not look forward to it. “It’d be one hell of a climb and we don’t know if it’ll take us to King’s Finger.”

The Dragonslayer took that as a challenge and slashed above. A stream of lightning flew high, illuminating the abyss in a small area as it soared. Though the spectacle was short-lived. The lightning fizzled out soon after. Much sooner than anticipated, it would seem as Emilia’s face was a picture of confusion and frustration.

“Mmm. . . It’s quite alright. You don’t —” Leor started.

She hurled her longsword with tremendous force. A violet star tore through the darkness and flared the chasm alive with light. Sighing, Leor took the moment to study their surroundings. Silhouettes of pillars encompassed them beyond the haze. Dozens of them, each accompanied by their own malformed cluster. Leor saw the protrusions for what they were truly: wailing limbs and thrashing bodies. It was a sinister forest of ashen corpses.

When the light faded, Emilia grumbled, still unsatisfied with how quickly her lightning dissipated. “Something’s not right.”

“Mmm.” He nodded. Afraid to admit your failure, I see.

Leor.

His ears twitched. He looked around, unsure if he had heard correctly. Nothing.

Leor, the voice called out again. This time right in his ear. It was sweet and tender and oh-so warm. He set his wide eyes on the Dragonslayer who was still sulking at her longsword. There was no way it was from her, Leor thought. She did not have the ability to speak so motherly.

The voice beckoned a third time as he was staring. Leor, come to me.

And Emilia’s lips did not move an inch. Thousands of insects crawled down his spine. “Did you hear that?”

The Dragonslayer looked up from her blade, a frown on her face. “Hear what?”

“My name, someone just called it.”

Her frown deepened. “Not this again.”

“What reason would I have to lie or jest?” From the corner of his eye, a shadow wisped behind a wall of statues. Leor threw up his sword and pointed. “There! Something moved!”

Emilia turned to look but whatever he saw was nowhere to be found. She gave him a hard look.

“Believe what you will,” he snapped before chasing after it.

He followed the beckoning voice through the maze of statues and pillars with Emilia at his heels, the fog growing ever thicker, the ground more rugged, but still, he pressed on. Deep down, he knew it was foolish, but he was drawn to the voice like a moth to a flame. A voice, a familiar kind that was meant for his ears only. The thought made his hand sweaty, his chest tightened with excitement. Or perhaps unease. Which one he could not say.

Soon the pillars lined up in perfect columns and the statues less horrendous, all sharing the same form now: knights with their weapons kneeling before whatever was ahead. The path opened into a great chamber where the pillars formed the walls and ghostly blue flames burned from candlesticks propped around the perimeter. At the center was a platform of white stone with black tendrils groping the surface and coiling into a black bed.

Emilia shuffled towards it, her sword hand limp at her side, no longer ready. “The Altar of Rebirth,” she murmured, almost in a whisper.

Her words struck him. An altar of rebirth. “You mean the one where Ceri rests?”

“No, not quite hers, but one of the same kind.”

“Then that would mean. . .”

“About time you arrived,” someone called out from a dark patch against the wall. A man’s voice. They snapped their blades up in the voice’s direction. A flash of white teeth grinned from the dark, the shadow took the form of a stooped, hooded man.

Leor knew at once who was behind that slimy grin. He wanted to slap himself for his ignorance. Of course, the shadow was his work. “Valmir.”

“The one and only.” the man in black bowed. “Good to see you again, my friend.”

Emilia glared at Leor, her eye slanted with fury. “You know this Aterian?”

“Know isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Yet he speaks to you as a friend?”

Valmir snickered. “This friendly tongue of mine is all natural. I use it with everyone -- friend and foe. Even you, Emilia.”

The air grew static and suffocating. “Don’t you address me by name, rat.”

“My, my. Is that any way to treat someone who has come bearing news from the surface?”

“What do you mean?” Leor said, “What are you doing here?”

Valmir raised his hands in false surrender. “Before that, please lower your weapons. A man finds it hard to talk with points aimed at his throat.”

Leor and Emilia glanced at each other and exchanged a silent debate before reluctantly doing as asked. Though Leor could see Emilia’s hand still clamping down on her blade’s hilt.

“Good, good. We’re all on the same side here. No need for hostility. Now, where to start?”

“How about what’re you doing here, rat?” Emilia snarled.

“Why, to partake in the trials, of course, my dear knightling.”

Leor took another gander at the chamber, his eyes wandering about to see if others were hiding amongst the shadows. “Alone? In this hellish land? Bullshit.”

“We, Aterians, work alone for the most part. A single shadow is harder to spot than an army. You should know that well, chosen purblight.” Valmir’s beady gaze slid over to Emilia. “The Dragonslayer can tell you if needed.”

“Your dark work isn’t needed here, rat.”

Valmir’s smile never left, his eyes remained dead open, never blinking. “Oh, but you are wrong about that, Emilia. Our work is always needed. The High Lord Ludwig made sure of it.”

Leor was surprised to hear the only response Emilia had was a growl through gritted teeth. That made him curious. “What work?”

“Work best left in the dark,” Valmir said gliding over to the altar. “You will come to know in due time, but seeing as you were led here, I suppose time is short.”

Leor narrowed his eyes. How did he know?

The Aterian pulled out an odd dagger. The blade seemed to be shapeless and steaming with black mist. Though it was proven real with Valmir twirling the sharp edge on his fingertip. “As we speak, the hot-headed Pillar is closing in on the city with half an army and an appetite for blood. Purblight blood. Seems to me, he’ll be at King’s Finger within the hour.”

“Useless information,” Emilia scoffed.

“Then perhaps keep your ears open for this one, Dragonslayer. Lord Alden and his party are approaching the Throne Room now, in hopes of finding the two of you. The fiery beauty has left them in some sort of hurry so your precious lord is defended by a mere brute and a wolf.”

Emilia traded a daring smirk of her own. “And? Menno has the strength of twenty men. He can hold his own until we arrive.”

“Perhaps twenty normal men. What of an enemy capable of slaying Pillars?”

“Y-you’re lying.” Leor could see Emilia struggling for words, her skin flushed white.

Valmir shrugged. “Believe me or not, it is the truth. Point your fingers, fiddle your thumbs. Lord Alden, the wolf, the Litherian, and the brute will surely meet their end if they reach the Throne Room.”

Emilia flashed her longsword, lightning blooming violently. “Take us there now, rat.”

“Kill me and you’ll have no hope of leaving this place.”

Just as Emilia was about to charge, Leor pulled her back and gave her a stone look. “We will not lose another.” That seemed to calm her. He then turned his attention to Valmir. “What do I have to do?”

The Aterian’s smile stretched unnaturally wider. “As expected of you, you catch on quick.” He flipped the dagger’s hilt towards him and pointed at the altar.

He had seen it before when they buried Ceri. A ceremonial dagger used to draw blood for sacred rites. But the dagger in his hand was like none other he had held. It was so cold that it burned, weighty as air, yet it was solid as any knife its size. Everything about it made no sense. Still, he slashed his right palm open without much thought. There was no time to ponder. He had come too far to die walking an eternity in this abyss.

Leor dropped to his knees screaming as blood gushed from his hand. A wave of pain seeped into his palm and crawled through his veins, like flaming worms burrowing beneath his flesh. He balled up and squeezed his wrist in an attempt to quell the pain from digging further but it was no use. It had a hold of him. He felt as if he was being squashed by giant hands made of fire.

Valmir wrenched his hand to the altar and pressed it into a fist. When the river of blood pooled on its mantle, the black tendrils of the altar emitted a soft blue glow and soon the light spread throughout the platform. The Aterian smiled wide at him and mouthed something, the platform rumbled, Leor’s vision swallowed by the darkness yet again.

Last thing he saw was Emilia rushing over.