Chapter 62 - The Cell

Antrandis followed the whisper they had encountered in Winter’s dream of the hall of the Host. Letting his mind wander, following that fragile thread through his subconscious and into the depths of his mind. In quick order he had found that the Goddess, Aisling had spoken truthfully. The trail he followed led back to himself. A curious development.

Earlier, in the outside world and within moments of finishing their discussion with the gryphon, Winter had grown weak and collapsed. While he had tended to her, a strange copper glow grew in her eyes. She had pleaded with him to find her, with a voice that was hers, yet not. In that moment he knew they could not wait until returning to Meliandra. It had to be tonight, it had to be immediate.

Upon entering Winter’s dream-scape, he had found her sprawled on the steps of the dais, fragile and weak. She explained to him that the past day had restored her purpose, but with the sudden emotion of relief, she was being easily overwhelmed, the whisper was overwhelming her, tearing at her, controlling her. Then he had heard it. It spoke to him, the voice that was Winter’s, yet not. It spoke to them both, the voice winding through the pillars and breathing into his ear. The revelation that he was her tether to this world, that they had been blind to the knowledge that he had been her master from the start. The Winter he knew pleaded with him to make her whole again as did the whisper.

Leaving her within the dream, he followed the fragile tendril of power that made up the tether. Its source lay within himself and for all appearances it was a tenuous bond, half-formed. Though what he found was unexpected. A binding construct that was not his own and not of the three. Designed to suppress and control the range of the tether. A labyrinth of wards to contain and restrict, acting like the bit and harness of a horse.

He considered the construct as a mixture of anger and caution simmered within him. Winter had been bound and restricted for a reason and those bindings bore the long faded hallmarks of the Host. He did not know how Winter and the other valkyries had come into the Host’s possession, the order of valkyries that the three had resurrected were unable to shed light on their creation or existence, except that they deferred to Winter as their leader. It was a title she did not understand except for being placed in that position by the Host. What concerned him more was the style and complexity of the construct, it was similar to one when binding a summoned demon or creature of the lower planes of existence. That of the demonic abyss.

Within a blink, he had shifted the aspect and structure of the dreamscape, mimicking the hall of the Host that he had been in with Winter mere moments before. Allowing Winter’s bindings to manifest in their physical form. Glassy black floors and stalactites shrouded with mist hug from the ceiling. Instead of a throne on a dais, there was a door, the form of which was put in place by the Host. A pair of stout, black marble pillars with a doorway of shimmering violet energy between them. It stood by itself in the middle of the white dais, surrounded by a circle of smouldering black runes.

Antrandis stood before the dais, slowly walking around the circle, inspecting its design and purpose. A terrible, dull roar cut through the chamber momentarily. Unflinching, Antrandis continued to read the circle’s markings. They were of an ancient design, a design of which to summon, ensnare and subjugate those of the demonic planes. Again another roar cut the silence, echoing in the chamber until it died out to a hollow thin scream that raised the hair on the back of his neck. Looking at the pillars, even from a few yards away he could make out the scratches and gashes in the black marble, as if hands had tried to claw their way out. He smiled slightly in satisfaction, shaking his head.

“The three could not see, because I was hiding it.” he said to himself, “I even hid it from myself.”

He smiled again, crouching before the circle. He could feel her now that he was attuned to the thin tendril of the tether. He could even feel the waves of power radiating from the containment as the trapped spirit attacked the walls from within. With his eyes closed he gently touched the circle with a finger, the shift in the intent of the sentient power was almost overwhelming. The rage of trying to be freed was replaced by intense curiosity and expectation.

“Winter, you are not really a Valkyrie are you?” he mused to himself.

An expectant hush settled over the endless Hall of the Host.

“What I find strangely curious, is why these measures were taken on a creature that is clearly not summoned. Everything here suggests the trapping and controlling of a summoned spirit, be it demonic or of the angelis. But instead it is being used to confine, to imprison.”

He frowned, the whole scenario did not make sense. The tether that bound Winter to him was not forced or a form of entrapment, it was required for her to exist on the physical realm. What stood before him was a puzzle-box of sorts, to contain what the Host considered undesirable, to control and make the subject little more than a puppet, malleable and easy to control. Antrandis stopped with that thought, staring at the smoking runes on the floor.

“Little more than a puppet?” he said aloud, voicing his thoughts.

Antrandis stared at the circle, his eyes widening as he realised its true purpose.

“You enslaved her. Took her will from her. It was you that turned her into a tool, an unthinking instrument.”

He stepped into the circle, the black embers flaring into flames, “We always assumed he created all of the order, but now I am not so sure. If he made you, why was this of all things needed? He could have made as he desired.”

Antrandis placed a hand on one of the pillars that framed the doorway, one of his eyebrows rising, “Unless, he didn’t make you.”

Antrandis stepped forward, allowing himself to enter the violet flare of energy between the pillars. The flames engulfing and consuming him as he continued to walk forward. As he passed the threshold of the doorway, the flames abruptly dispersed. He was no longer in the Hall of the Host, nor was he in what was the dreamscape.

Antrandis stood in the construct, Winter’s prison. A labyrinth to contain the power of the unknown. The light was dim, though the black walls gleamed with an inner luminescence that provided a minimum of illumination. He turned, unsurprisingly the entrance was gone. He started to walk, following the passage, multiple intersections and breaks presented themselves, though none interested him. The path was clear to see, the walls, floor and ceiling of the construct were cracked and scarred, subjected to many long millennia of being attacked viciously from within.

He could feel her presence, so strong it was almost overwhelming.

“Winter?” he called out, half expecting to be attacked at any given moment.

Instead he was met with an expectant silence. He continued to follow the scratches until he came to a series of rooms with doors that were barred from the outside. Antrandis tilted his head, there was a faint noise from nearby.

Following the sound, he was led to a closed door and behind it he could hear a small voice whispering, “Master. So close, Master, Please. Please don’t leave me here. Please.”

Antrandis frowned, a measure of surprise among his thoughts. He gripped the large shot-bolt and slid it open. Pulling at the handle of the door and opening it, he was met with a complete darkness and the faint clink of chains. He heard a sharp intake of breath.

“Have you come to free me, or only to look upon what has been caged out of idle curiosity?” said an unmistakable voice in the darkness.

Antrandis stood in the entry, “That has yet to be decided. I do not know the reasons for your imprisonment, nor do I know the truth of your creation. You have been imprisoned within a well-built cell for a reason, Winter. Though I do believe that the reasons for your imprisonment do not align with my own.”

There was a faint clink of chains, as if she had shivered.

“There once was a reason, if you wish to hear of it. Master.”

“You can use my name, Winter.” he said, now aware that no matter how he changed his vision, he could not penetrate the black.

Winter’s voice wavered a little, “To use your name is an invocation of your power, I am unable to until you claim me in my entirety, Master.” said the voice, low and alluring.

“Claim you? Are you not already tethered to me, Winter?”

“Yes, and no.” the voice said at a whisper.

Antrandis listened carefully, he could hear her shift slightly, again a light clink of chains. Her breathing was erratic.

“My connection to you, Master. It is not a tether, it is my existence itself. The only reason I survived to be found by you, was because of his fear and distrust. He did not accept a gift freely given to be without malice. He perverted the gift’s purpose, my purpose. Our purpose.”

“Your existence?” he asked of the darkness.

“I am not a creature from another plane that needs a host.” there was a pause, silence as she drew a deep breath, speaking slowly as if restraining herself, “In truth, I am an artefact of sorts. A creation made by a discerning artisan. One of a kind, unique in every way. The Host perverted my purpose, he took a fine blade and made an axe of me. I survived his fall, because of his ignorance. I was crafted as the perfect gift to attend a god.”

Antrandis stood in the doorway, his thoughts coming in a rush as he tried to make sense of her words.

“Slow your thoughts, Master. Time is of no consequence within this prison. Barely a moment has passed since Master’s Consort left my shell’s dream and returned to the waking world. And just like a dream of days and weeks takes place in the seconds before waking, time here has no meaning than what you make of it.” she said quietly.

“You read my thoughts, Winter?”

Again the clink of chains in the black, her breathing again erratic, “I see them, experience them.” she drew a shuddering breath, “I feel them inside of me, Master. I feel what you feel, I know your thoughts the moment you think them.”

Antrandis looked into the darkness, two copper slits of light, watching him through half-lidded eyes. They blinked out.

“You want to look upon me. To see what is hidden in the black.” she took a deep breath again, her eyes opening, “It is what I desire also, to have you look upon me, to see the truth of what I am. I only humbly ask for a moment more, Master.”

“I will give you as much time as you need, Winter.”

The sound of clinking chains and a slight moan escaped her, “I-I am grateful, Master.”

Shadow of the Eclipse: Chapter Timeline

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