Death has come, a path to thread

Eternal sleep awaits ahead

Fate fulfilled, no tears to shed

One last pass, join the dead

Translation from Effylscript found on the Iodigar Portal in Hyrfvar.

There was surprisingly little to plan with what little information they had. Hrotvir would lead them to where he believed Feill-Dar-Lhef could be found and then they’d simply hope for the best.

Best not to prepare too much, he had explained it. That way, you’ll have more room to improvise.

What they did know however was that both Kollyn and Tirril needed to rest more before setting out again. Kollyn had tried to decipher as much of the Effylscript in his room as possible, but after only a short while he had to admit to himself that he needed the sleep more than anything.

Sleep came without conversation this time despite the distant sensation of divinity lingering in his dreams. When he awoke, he felt as refreshed as when he had first entered Iodigar. During their time asleep, Hrotvir had done the necessary arrangements for their departure. Water skins had been filled, fresh rations prepared, and both their sacks and weapons lay at the ready.

As Hrotvir opened the gate and a rush of wind came blazing in, Kollyn was surprised by how high up in the mountains they were. There was a narrow path spiralling down the steep cliff side, barely wide enough for one man to walk on. On more than one place he saw parts of the path had collapsed into the deep below. How had Hrotvir managed to drag the two of them all the way up here?

He was about to ask when Tirril looked at him and shook her head ever so slightly. Don’t trust him, that shake seemed to say, he’s not telling us everything.

He gave a short but firm nod in return. The questions would have to wait. Hrotvir started down the path and motioned for them to follow.

“Mind your every step,” he warned. “The stone might crumble anywhere and although you’d be down faster, you might not like the way you get there.” He laughed at his own joke and went down the narrow path.

Kollyn followed immediately after, staying as close to the wall as he could manage. Tirril trailed just behind, her step equally measured and careful as his own. More than once they had to jump a small gap where the path had collapsed and every time Kollyn felt a sense of nausea when confronted with the depths below.

Two of hours of careful descent later, they finally arrived at the bottom of the mountain where brown grass began to replace rocky underground. They were back in one of the valleys, surrounded by high peaks and slowly descending outruns of the mountains. In the distance, still walking in the same, monotone line, Kollyn could see the grey silhouettes of dozens of souls. There were reddish Vren roaming around the valley as well, but so far none seemed to have taken notice of the newly arrived humans.

“Keep quiet and don’t lag behind,” Hrotvir instructed as he once again took the lead and made for the line of souls. “There’s a narrow gap in the mountainside no more than fifty feet wide that leads straight to where the souls finally pass on. Once we go in, the only way is either forward or back.”

“What if we encounter Vren in there?” Tirril asked worriedly.

Hrotvir shrugged. “Hide, if possible. If not, we fight.”

“And what about the other souls?” Kollyn asked. “The Ligtyr warned us not to venture to close to them.”

“He’s right about that,” Hrotvir answered. “If we get too close, they might get distracted and lose their way. Unfortunately, this is the only way to get to where we need to be. Stay as far away from the souls as possible. We should have some leeway if we stick to the side.”

It took them about an hour of dodging and weaving around the roaming Vren until they reached the gap Hrotvir had told off. The harmless souls marched no less twenty feet away from them, but so far, they seemed as docile as ever. True to what Hrotvir had said, the gap was indeed narrow and as far as he could see ran in one straight line through the mountains. Looking up, Kollyn felt himself become dizzy at the sheer height of the walls of the gap. They ran all the way up to the highest point of the peaks and were as straight as a knife’s edge.

What surprised him the most however were the giant texts of Effylscript carved into them. Huge, flowing letters and words the meaning of which he did not understand took up almost the entire wall.

“What does it say?” he asked, mouth wide open in amazement.

Hrotvir shrugged. “No idea,” he answered to Kollyn’s surprise. “They are in a language unbeknownst to me. I can read the words, but I do not know their meaning. Not that it matters now, we have a task at hand.”

Before Kollyn could ask anything, Hrotvir stepped into the gap forcing him and Tirril to follow suit. It was an eerie feeling, walking so close to the souls of the uncaring dead. A feeling only strengthened by the constant vigilance for any Vren approaching. Hrotvir had talked of hiding earlier, but Kollyn failed to see any possibility of that. Both sides of the gap were shaped perfectly straight and showed no traces of cracks or crevices to crawl into.

They walked for what seemed like hours without any unpleasant encounters and just as Kollyn thought they’d reach their destination without issue, Hrotvir halted and held up his fist.

“What is it?” Tirril whispered.

“Vren,” Hrotvir said, seemingly unworried. “Two of them.” He turned towards the wall, placed his hand on it and closed his eyes. The now familiar ripples of air spread out from underneath his palm, flowing outwards in small strings of Effylscript that reshaped the rock it passed over. In a matter of seconds, a small opening just large enough for the three of them had appeared.

First Tirril and then Kollyn crawled in, moving their sacks around to create as much space as possible. Finally, Hrotvir joined them and placed his hand on the rock again, this time closing the opening and leaving them in complete darkness.

Time seemed to pass slowly in the makeshift cave. None spoke, instead they listened intently to what passed outside. After a few minutes, the shuffling of feet and fervent sniffing reached them as well as angered growls. The Vren seemed confused by the presence of smell but lack of prey. For what seemed like an eternity the creatures moved around their hiding spot, but eventually the sounds resided, and the danger seemed to pass.

Hrotvir waited a while longer before opening the wall again, and when he did there was no sight of the Vren. The slow but steady walk continued. Every so often, Hrotvir would stop them and conjure up a hiding place when other Vren approached. The further they went, Kollyn noticed, the longer it took for the little cave to form. When asked, Hrotvir denied growing tired, but the bags under his eyes and heavier breathing spoke differently.

For hours they walked, accompanied by the souls of the death and those towering, ever-straight walls with Effylscript larger than a house. Despite his obvious tiredness, Hrotvir had begun picking up the pace ever so slightly and an eager look had begun to appear in his eyes.

In a matter of a hundred paces, the top of the surrounding walls suddenly descended all the way to the ground and a valley appeared before them. It was shaped in a huge circle and made up of nothing but rock. All around its circumference, other gaps showed with wandering souls pouring out, all of them walking towards the centre where an obelisk the size of a small tower stood.

Its black faces and edges seemed to absorb all light that reached it, giant carved Effylscript showing on all sides. Around the base of the obelisk, a ring of translucent smoke hung low above the ground. Souls stepping through the ring sometimes came out the other end unharmed and faded away as they reached the obelisk. Other souls started trashing and flailing around as they wandered into the smoke and came back out as red, deformed Vren. At the sight of it, an anger began to boil up inside of him.

An anger that was not his.

The Vren, hundreds of them in total, were spread around the entire valley, wandering aimlessly.

Hrotvir hissed through his teeth. “This is not good,” he whispered and motioned for them to hide behind a rocky outcrop, out of sight from the centre.

“That smoke...” Tirril said hesitantly. “Is that...”

Hrotvir nodded. “The soul of Feill-Dar-Lhef, Mother of Script. She killed herself to escape Jurmheir and find a way out, yet now she is stuck here in Iodigar.”

“It’s almost as if she’s devouring the souls who then become Vren,” Kollyn said, watching another soul being corrupted.

“She’s afraid,” Hrotvir said, his tone surprised. “Once she touches the obelisk, she knows she’ll pass on and who knows what will happen then. Perhaps she’s trying to absorb souls to fuel her own while she thinks of a way to escape.”

“Can she even die?” Tirril asked. “Fully, I mean. She is a Goddess of Creation after all...”

“I have honestly no idea,” Hrotvir answered. “But this atrocity of corrupting souls must stop, even I know that much. This goes against the very essence of life itself.”

They were silent for a moment, all three of them pondering on how to approach the situation. Not for the first time did Kollyn think he was in way over his head, looking down upon an ancient Goddess devouring souls and preventing safe passage to the afterlife. How much did the Ligtyr know of this?

“If we look at this objectively,” Tirril suddenly said almost apologetically. “Then Kollyn is the only one who would even be capable of making it to the centre.”

Hrotvir gave a short nod. “I can hide and sneak all I want, I’m already near my limit after all the Effylscript I used.” He looked at Kollyn. “Are you up to this?”

“It’s why I’m here,” he answered, sounding more confident than he felt. He didn’t really enjoy the prospect of walking in there, but there didn’t seem to be any other way. “I will need help though. Hrotvir, can you send me back into that dream state? I need to have a word with a certain God of Creation.”

Hrotvir grinned. “I think I’m starting to take a liking to you, Kollyn.” In a flurry of motions, he engraved the Effylscript onto the palm of his hand and pressed it onto Kollyn’s forehead.

“She is near.” The voice of Tharn-Dar-Solst boomed around him. “She senses my presence, her fear and confusion growing. She does not know how I am here. How you are here.”

“Can you talk to her?” Kollyn asked, his words echoing in the nothingness.

“Not directly.” The answer came. “You will need to make contact with her soul so I can speak through you.”

“Will it kill me?” he asked, dreading the answer.

There was silence for a few heartbeats.

“I do not know,” Tharn-Dar-Solst answered finally. “This is a new thing. Your soul is among the strongest of all mortals, Kollyn. It is why I chose you. Why you are still alive. You must be resolute and have faith. Both in me and in yourself.”

“Encouraging words,” Kollyn responded. “Did the Father of Souls gain a liking to a mortal vessel?”

A deep, rumbling laugh resounded all around. “I see the Escaped One has taught you a few things. Do not let him deceive you, his worries are not for the souls alone.”

“I will watch him,” Kollyn answered, confirming his suspicions of Hrotvir not being who he claimed to be. “What of the Vren roaming the valley? Can you guide me through them?”

“Your actions are your own, Kollyn,” the God answered. “Release your emotions and I will be there, but it is you who will have to carve a path through them.

“Wake, Kollyn. Iodigar awaits.”

With a gasp, Kollyn came to his senses, feeling more resolute than ever before.

Hrotvir regarded him curiously. “There’s a shift in your eyes, Kollyn. You know what to do?”

Kollyn gave a firm nod and stood up, drawing his sword. The metal itself was useless, but he knew the weapon could be used in other ways. He searched for his anger and found it buried deep inside. There were other emotions as well. Determination, confidence, acceptance... He drew on all of them at the same time and the power filled him. It was a comfortable feeling now and he knew he was in control.

The ground beneath his feet trembled, tiny pebbles and rocks stuttering up and down with the vibrations. The sound of thunder rumbled lowly above, a deafening sound rolling over the valley. The metal in his hand began to glow, tiny ripples of Effylscript making their way across the blade and forming into intricate designs far beyond his current understanding of the Script. Yet he gave it meaning, guided by the knowledge of the god within him, and knew it would send the tortured Vren into the afterlife for good.

He motioned for Tirril to hand him her sword as well, which she did albeit hesitantly. The same patterns appeared on the blade, emitting a soft glow similar to his. He returned the weapon and saw a newfound sense of amazement in her eyes.

“This will hurt the Vren?” she asked.

Kollyn nodded. “It will send their souls to the afterlife; you only need to nick them with it.”

Where Tirril seemed enthusiastic on her newly acquired weapon, Hrotvir seemed the opposite.

“Am I still talking to Kollyn?” he asked, slowly shuffling backwards.

“You are,” Kollyn answered. “Wait here, Escaped One. I have questions for you when I return. Tirril, keep an eye on him. Don’t let him escape.”

Tirril nodded and held the tip of the sword near Hrotvir’s throat, whose face turned to shock for a split second, but then was normal again. Something about the Script on the weapon seemed to have unsettled him.

“I will wait.” He nodded and sat back down.

“What will you do?” Tirril asked.

Kollyn turned towards the valley as the trembling began to subside. The Vren had begun screaming, their gazes all directed towards him.

“I’m going to have a little conversation,” he answered and began to run.

The Vren swarmed towards him.