Chapter 187: 187
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Not keen to aggravate Areen any more than necessary, the three of us slink towards the trap door, tiptoeing warily, not fully unconvinced that there might still be traps laid out for us yet. Silently, I let my eyes brush over the Siren Queen, watching the mixture of expression that pull over her face when she thinks she is unobserved.
Despite the youthful appearance of her face, it is sometimes easy to forget that creatures like her have a longevity of life far longer than most, often at times making their appearance deceptive to any outward onlookers but in truth this appearance is only a façade.
Signs of age and the harsh cruelties of life wear away at her skin like sandpaper, sanding down the outer dermis to a thin transparent layer that no amount of flesh obtained and distributed through cannibalism could hope to maintain. Even with remarkably more sufficient bodies than most of the Folk, who live a rough span of 200-300 years on average for the more developed species like elves or centaurs, (though many are far less fortunate to be graced with such a lengthy life), signs of age wear down upon her body, in the greying tips of her hair and the milkyness of one grey eye.
This is a woman who has been to the depths of the oceans and back, housed abominations as pets and earned the right for them to call her 'mistress'. It is no wonder that Cylus fears her, she is terrifying.
My gaze wanders down to where she fidgets, mirrored sphere in hand, eyes murky.
For a moment, Areen stares over the contraption in her fingers, her fingers pricked against the surface of the mirror, white and tense enough to see the bones through the thin, pasty layers of her skin. There is a melancholy that lingers in the swell of her cheeks, the glassiness of her eyes, the slight downturn of her mouth, an inkling of regret that I would never assume to see on such a hardened creature. Perhaps after all this time, there is some good in her- after all, her affection for Delina is greater and much stronger than expressed by nearly any of the creatures of Faey, so much so that this ancient Siren is willing to lay down her life.
But just as I am about to commend her for such, she jolts her head back upwards, her gaze spying mine as she hisses, fangs bared to a pointy grimace:
"Quit lingering, Landwalker! Did I not ask you to leave?"
I don't have many thoughts about speaking to her after that.
Delina seems to realise the shakiness of her form as Areen clutches the ball in one wizened hand, her expression dulled to an unfeeling glare, for quickly runs back over, stretching a hand around her shoulders, rubbing in comforting circles over the skin.
At this, a soft tranquillity befalls Areen, temporary but nevertheless, needed.
"Since you are safe, I will be going now, grandmother," she announces cautiously, stepping out to join us in the centre of the room, a wan smile on her face, as though realising with a quaint awareness that she likely won't be coming back here again for a very long time. For all her credit, Areen does not protest- at least not physically, giving us all a grim stare over the top of her slender nose, her fingers ever tightening around the mirrored sphere.
"Don't get yourself hurt, Delina dear," Areen reminds firmly, stretching a free hand out to embrace her granddaughter, who accepts the gesture with a hesitant but loving hug.
"You will come and visit me, wont you dear?" comes Areen's muffled plea, her face buried against Delina's shoulder, all at once looking awfully pale. Leaning back carefully, Delina takes her grandmother by her hands, braving a small but warm smile.
"Of course. As soon as this is said and done I will come to visit, every weekend if you like."
I do not catch the rest of the conversation as Kal nudges me in the ribs to grab my attention, gesturing with a free hand down into the empty void that descends from the hatch, and urgent look upon his face as he taps his wrist.
A weight drops in my stomach.
Yes, we are running out of time. Far too quickly for my liking.
Coughing to grab Delina's attention, I give them both a pointed look. I hate to break up a tender family moment, especially considering this might be the last time that Delina will ever see her grandmother (at least potentially for a long time), but given the fact that Azrael is surely finishing up his practises, and we are vastly running out of time to toy with, it is my only viable option.
Azrael will wait for no one, so apparently neither can we.
Thankfully, Delina seems to realise this too.
"Goodbye grandmother, I will see you soon," she smiles wanly, but there is an edge of doubt to her voice which only confirms my suspicions- nobody, not even Soren knows when we will be free of this mess. It is only a matter of blatant luck, and time.
Regret filled, Areen nods gently in understanding, her mouth pressed into a taut line. For the first time since I met her, she looks... kind.
"Goodbye my lovely, stay safe."
After one more embrace, Delina reluctantly joins our side, her expression sombre, the fiery passion that once resided in her eyes dwindled to more than a faint glimmer. Perhaps she has already realised what awaits us below, or perhaps like us, she is only just about to find out. Either way, we have little time to dawdle on the consequences of it.
"Stay safe, Areen," I remind her, vaulting over the hatch and into the blackness to where the stairs descend into a seemingly never ending loop downwards. "And remember," I call back, descending step by step into the abyss below. "You are stronger than Azrael. Do not let him get to your head."
I do not hear her answer, or do not catch it if she does, the noise of the world above me scuppered by the dense darkness that surrounds me, causing me ears to ring and my finger tips to lace with a foreboding cold. This is it.
Standing anxiously in the darkness, my body emitting a faint glow of light, I wait for Kal to join me, watching as he vaults into the hatch, followed by Delina, who clambers down after, disorientated and blinking back the darkness. The two of them steady themselves on the sides of the walls to get their balance, dizzy as they teeter from one step to another. The chattering of teeth begins to permeate the darkness, providing a welcome but eerie noise to accompany the faint hum that settles itself upon my ears. A shiver spider walks down my spine.
"Ready?" I ask, breath spiking the air with plumes of a fine mist. Both of them nod frigidly.
"Ready."
Just as we are about to descend, Areen brings herself over to the entrance of the hatch, staring down at us with a mixture of fear and cold, unfeeling emptiness, the two expressions flitting between her features like bats in a cave. Taking the hatch door in her hand, she begins to swing it shut, before at the last second before closing, she wavers there, as though struck with some vision or dream that she can't quite shake. She opens it up a litter wider, peering down at us for a few silent seconds until she mutters:
"Remind Soren that I found what he was looking for," she instructs firmly. "And," she adds, her expression softening marginally. "Kick Azrael's ass for me, will you? On my behalf."
To this, I only grin.
"With pleasure."
And with that, the hatch slams shut behind us, plunging us all into an unearthly darkness.
***
We descend the stairs in silence, leaving nothing but the frigid chill of the earth around us, and the wet dripping of water somewhere deep below us. There is a faint hum that fills the air, a buzzing of sorts that is enough to set our teeth on edge in joint nervousness, so that even Delina, and ancient vampire no doubt adept to the horrors her palace of living had to portray, eyes the walls around us warily, as though expecting some sort of monster to fuse into existence.
The tug at my heart is stronger now, pulsing harder within me with each step taken. I can feel it calling, humming inside me, instilling me with just enough courage to cause the cramped walls around us to glow just a fraction brighter under the influence of my magic.
The others seem to relax a bit after that, grateful for the light, that faint spark of hope in this underground cavern that spirals downwards to nowhere good. With each step forward, the dripping of water gets closer, louder, filling up my ears and sending a series of shivers continuously rocketing down my spine. The air is pungent with a peculiar smell, irony, but old, rotten, so much so that I have a difficult time deciphering it. And yet the drip, drip of water continues, filling our ears with a steady thrum of a second heart....
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Not keen to aggravate Areen any more than necessary, the three of us slink towards the trap door, tiptoeing warily, not fully unconvinced that there might still be traps laid out for us yet. Silently, I let my eyes brush over the Siren Queen, watching the mixture of expression that pull over her face when she thinks she is unobserved.
Despite the youthful appearance of her face, it is sometimes easy to forget that creatures like her have a longevity of life far longer than most, often at times making their appearance deceptive to any outward onlookers but in truth this appearance is only a façade.
Signs of age and the harsh cruelties of life wear away at her skin like sandpaper, sanding down the outer dermis to a thin transparent layer that no amount of flesh obtained and distributed through cannibalism could hope to maintain. Even with remarkably more sufficient bodies than most of the Folk, who live a rough span of 200-300 years on average for the more developed species like elves or centaurs, (though many are far less fortunate to be graced with such a lengthy life), signs of age wear down upon her body, in the greying tips of her hair and the milkyness of one grey eye.
This is a woman who has been to the depths of the oceans and back, housed abominations as pets and earned the right for them to call her 'mistress'. It is no wonder that Cylus fears her, she is terrifying.
My gaze wanders down to where she fidgets, mirrored sphere in hand, eyes murky.
For a moment, Areen stares over the contraption in her fingers, her fingers pricked against the surface of the mirror, white and tense enough to see the bones through the thin, pasty layers of her skin. There is a melancholy that lingers in the swell of her cheeks, the glassiness of her eyes, the slight downturn of her mouth, an inkling of regret that I would never assume to see on such a hardened creature. Perhaps after all this time, there is some good in her- after all, her affection for Delina is greater and much stronger than expressed by nearly any of the creatures of Faey, so much so that this ancient Siren is willing to lay down her life.
But just as I am about to commend her for such, she jolts her head back upwards, her gaze spying mine as she hisses, fangs bared to a pointy grimace:
"Quit lingering, Landwalker! Did I not ask you to leave?"
I don't have many thoughts about speaking to her after that.
Delina seems to realise the shakiness of her form as Areen clutches the ball in one wizened hand, her expression dulled to an unfeeling glare, for quickly runs back over, stretching a hand around her shoulders, rubbing in comforting circles over the skin.
At this, a soft tranquillity befalls Areen, temporary but nevertheless, needed.
"Since you are safe, I will be going now, grandmother," she announces cautiously, stepping out to join us in the centre of the room, a wan smile on her face, as though realising with a quaint awareness that she likely won't be coming back here again for a very long time. For all her credit, Areen does not protest- at least not physically, giving us all a grim stare over the top of her slender nose, her fingers ever tightening around the mirrored sphere.
"Don't get yourself hurt, Delina dear," Areen reminds firmly, stretching a free hand out to embrace her granddaughter, who accepts the gesture with a hesitant but loving hug.
"You will come and visit me, wont you dear?" comes Areen's muffled plea, her face buried against Delina's shoulder, all at once looking awfully pale. Leaning back carefully, Delina takes her grandmother by her hands, braving a small but warm smile.
"Of course. As soon as this is said and done I will come to visit, every weekend if you like."
I do not catch the rest of the conversation as Kal nudges me in the ribs to grab my attention, gesturing with a free hand down into the empty void that descends from the hatch, and urgent look upon his face as he taps his wrist.
A weight drops in my stomach.
Yes, we are running out of time. Far too quickly for my liking.
Coughing to grab Delina's attention, I give them both a pointed look. I hate to break up a tender family moment, especially considering this might be the last time that Delina will ever see her grandmother (at least potentially for a long time), but given the fact that Azrael is surely finishing up his practises, and we are vastly running out of time to toy with, it is my only viable option.
Azrael will wait for no one, so apparently neither can we.
Thankfully, Delina seems to realise this too.
"Goodbye grandmother, I will see you soon," she smiles wanly, but there is an edge of doubt to her voice which only confirms my suspicions- nobody, not even Soren knows when we will be free of this mess. It is only a matter of blatant luck, and time.
Regret filled, Areen nods gently in understanding, her mouth pressed into a taut line. For the first time since I met her, she looks... kind.
"Goodbye my lovely, stay safe."
After one more embrace, Delina reluctantly joins our side, her expression sombre, the fiery passion that once resided in her eyes dwindled to more than a faint glimmer. Perhaps she has already realised what awaits us below, or perhaps like us, she is only just about to find out. Either way, we have little time to dawdle on the consequences of it.
"Stay safe, Areen," I remind her, vaulting over the hatch and into the blackness to where the stairs descend into a seemingly never ending loop downwards. "And remember," I call back, descending step by step into the abyss below. "You are stronger than Azrael. Do not let him get to your head."
I do not hear her answer, or do not catch it if she does, the noise of the world above me scuppered by the dense darkness that surrounds me, causing me ears to ring and my finger tips to lace with a foreboding cold. This is it.
Standing anxiously in the darkness, my body emitting a faint glow of light, I wait for Kal to join me, watching as he vaults into the hatch, followed by Delina, who clambers down after, disorientated and blinking back the darkness. The two of them steady themselves on the sides of the walls to get their balance, dizzy as they teeter from one step to another. The chattering of teeth begins to permeate the darkness, providing a welcome but eerie noise to accompany the faint hum that settles itself upon my ears. A shiver spider walks down my spine.
"Ready?" I ask, breath spiking the air with plumes of a fine mist. Both of them nod frigidly.
"Ready."
Just as we are about to descend, Areen brings herself over to the entrance of the hatch, staring down at us with a mixture of fear and cold, unfeeling emptiness, the two expressions flitting between her features like bats in a cave. Taking the hatch door in her hand, she begins to swing it shut, before at the last second before closing, she wavers there, as though struck with some vision or dream that she can't quite shake. She opens it up a litter wider, peering down at us for a few silent seconds until she mutters:
"Remind Soren that I found what he was looking for," she instructs firmly. "And," she adds, her expression softening marginally. "Kick Azrael's ass for me, will you? On my behalf."
To this, I only grin.
"With pleasure."
And with that, the hatch slams shut behind us, plunging us all into an unearthly darkness.
***
We descend the stairs in silence, leaving nothing but the frigid chill of the earth around us, and the wet dripping of water somewhere deep below us. There is a faint hum that fills the air, a buzzing of sorts that is enough to set our teeth on edge in joint nervousness, so that even Delina, and ancient vampire no doubt adept to the horrors her palace of living had to portray, eyes the walls around us warily, as though expecting some sort of monster to fuse into existence.
The tug at my heart is stronger now, pulsing harder within me with each step taken. I can feel it calling, humming inside me, instilling me with just enough courage to cause the cramped walls around us to glow just a fraction brighter under the influence of my magic.
The others seem to relax a bit after that, grateful for the light, that faint spark of hope in this underground cavern that spirals downwards to nowhere good. With each step forward, the dripping of water gets closer, louder, filling up my ears and sending a series of shivers continuously rocketing down my spine. The air is pungent with a peculiar smell, irony, but old, rotten, so much so that I have a difficult time deciphering it. And yet the drip, drip of water continues, filling our ears with a steady thrum of a second heart....
Not keen to aggravate Areen any more than necessary, the three of us slink towards the trap door, tiptoeing warily, not fully unconvinced that there might still be traps laid out for us yet. Silently, I let my eyes brush over the Siren Queen, watching the mixture of expression that pull over her face when she thinks she is unobserved.Despite the youthful appearance of her face, it is sometimes easy to forget that creatures like her have a longevity of life far longer than most, often at times making their appearance deceptive to any outward onlookers but in truth this appearance is only a faade. Signs of age and the harsh cruelties of life wear away at her skin like sandpaper, sanding down the outer dermis to a thin transparent layer that no amount of flesh obtained and distributed through cannibalism could hope to maintain. Even with remarkably more sufficient bodies than most of the Folk, who live a rough span of 200-300 years on average for the more developed species like elves or centaurs, though many are far less fortunate to be graced with such a lengthy life, signs of age wear down upon her body, in the greying tips of her hair and the milkyness of one grey eye. This is a woman who has been to the depths of the oceans and back, housed abominations as pets and earned the right for them to call her 'mistress'. It is no wonder that Cylus fears her, she is terrifying.My gaze wanders down to where she fidgets, mirrored sphere in hand, eyes murky.For a moment, Areen stares over the contraption in her fingers, her fingers pricked against the surface of the mirror, white and tense enough to see the bones through the thin, pasty layers of her skin. There is a melancholy that lingers in the swell of her cheeks, the glassiness of her eyes, the slight downturn of her mouth, an inkling of regret that I would never assume to see on such a hardened creature. Perhaps after all this time, there is some good in her- after all, her affection for Delina is greater and much stronger than expressed by nearly any of the creatures of Faey, so much so that this ancient Siren is willing to lay down her life.But just as I am about to commend her for such, she jolts her head back upwards, her gaze spying mine as she hisses, fangs bared to a pointy grimace:"Quit lingering, Landwalker! Did I not ask you to leave?"I don't have many thoughts about speaking to her after that.Delina seems to realise the shakiness of her form as Areen clutches the ball in one wizened hand, her expression dulled to an unfeeling glare, for quickly runs back over, stretching a hand around her shoulders, rubbing in comforting circles over the skin.At this, a soft tranquillity befalls Areen, temporary but nevertheless, needed."Since you are safe, I will be going now, grandmother," she announces cautiously, stepping out to join us in the centre of the room, a wan smile on her face, as though realising with a quaint awareness that she likely won't be coming back here again for a very long time. For all her credit, Areen does not protest- at least not physically, giving us all a grim stare over the top of her slender nose, her fingers ever tightening around the mirrored sphere."Don't get yourself hurt, Delina dear," Areen reminds firmly, stretching a free hand out to embrace her granddaughter, who accepts the gesture with a hesitant but loving hug. "You will come and visit me, wont you dear?" comes Areen's muffled plea, her face buried against Delina's shoulder, all at once looking awfully pale. Leaning back carefully, Delina takes her grandmother by her hands, braving a small but warm smile."Of course. As soon as this is said and done I will come to visit, every weekend if you like."I do not catch the rest of the conversation as Kal nudges me in the ribs to grab my attention, gesturing with a free hand down into the empty void that descends from the hatch, and urgent look upon his face as he taps his wrist.A weight drops in my stomach.Yes, we are running out of time. Far too quickly for my liking. Coughing to grab Delina's attention, I give them both a pointed look. I hate to break up a tender family moment, especially considering this might be the last time that Delina will ever see her grandmother at least potentially for a long time, but given the fact that Azrael is surely finishing up his practises, and we are vastly running out of time to toy with, it is my only viable option.Azrael will wait for no one, so apparently neither can we.Thankfully, Delina seems to realise this too."Goodbye grandmother, I will see you soon," she smiles wanly, but there is an edge of doubt to her voice which only confirms my suspicions- nobody, not even Soren knows when we will be free of this mess. It is only a matter of blatant luck, and time. Regret filled, Areen nods gently in understanding, her mouth pressed into a taut line. For the first time since I met her, she looks... kind."Goodbye my lovely, stay safe."After one more embrace, Delina reluctantly joins our side, her expression sombre, the fiery passion that once resided in her eyes dwindled to more than a faint glimmer. Perhaps she has already realised what awaits us below, or perhaps like us, she is only just about to find out. Either way, we have little time to dawdle on the consequences of it."Stay safe, Areen," I remind her, vaulting over the hatch and into the blackness to where the stairs descend into a seemingly never ending loop downwards. "And remember," I call back, descending step by step into the abyss below. "You are stronger than Azrael. Do not let him get to your head."I do not hear her answer, or do not catch it if she does, the noise of the world above me scuppered by the dense darkness that surrounds me, causing me ears to ring and my finger tips to lace with a foreboding cold. This is it.Standing anxiously in the darkness, my body emitting a faint glow of light, I wait for Kal to join me, watching as he vaults into the hatch, followed by Delina, who clambers down after, disorientated and blinking back the darkness. The two of them steady themselves on the sides of the walls to get their balance, dizzy as they teeter from one step to another. The chattering of teeth begins to permeate the darkness, providing a welcome but eerie noise to accompany the faint hum that settles itself upon my ears. A shiver spider walks down my spine."Ready?" I ask, breath spiking the air with plumes of a fine mist. Both of them nod frigidly."Ready."Just as we are about to descend, Areen brings herself over to the entrance of the hatch, staring down at us with a mixture of fear and cold, unfeeling emptiness, the two expressions flitting between her features like bats in a cave. Taking the hatch door in her hand, she begins to swing it shut, before at the last second before closing, she wavers there, as though struck with some vision or dream that she can't quite shake. She opens it up a litter wider, peering down at us for a few silent seconds until she mutters:"Remind Soren that I found what he was looking for," she instructs firmly. "And," she adds, her expression softening marginally. "Kick Azrael's ass for me, will you? On my behalf."To this, I only grin."With pleasure."And with that, the hatch slams shut behind us, plunging us all into an unearthly darkness. ***We descend the stairs in silence, leaving nothing but the frigid chill of the earth around us, and the wet dripping of water somewhere deep below us. There is a faint hum that fills the air, a buzzing of sorts that is enough to set our teeth on edge in joint nervousness, so that even Delina, and ancient vampire no doubt adept to the horrors her palace of living had to portray, eyes the walls around us warily, as though expecting some sort of monster to fuse into existence.The tug at my heart is stronger now, pulsing harder within me with each step taken. I can feel it calling, humming inside me, instilling me with just enough courage to cause the cramped walls around us to glow just a fraction brighter under the influence of my magic. The others seem to relax a bit after that, grateful for the light, that faint spark of hope in this underground cavern that spirals downwards to nowhere good. With each step forward, the dripping of water gets closer, louder, filling up my ears and sending a series of shivers continuously rocketing down my spine. The air is pungent with a peculiar smell, irony, but old, rotten, so much so that I have a difficult time deciphering it. And yet the drip, drip of water continues, filling our ears with a steady thrum of a second heart....
