The Mother of Monsters

A few loping steps were all it took for the Wolf Lord to cross the enormous chamber. Deshan came to a stop near the northernmost wall of the underground plain, his massive head turned toward Teyva. Teyva hurried to follow him while she turned her right arm back to normal. Azrael came in behind her, trotting along as if she hadn’t just been crippled by death magic. Nephral clung to his mother’s shoulders, curling his tail around her neck. Teyva slowed to a stop when she spotted the opening that Deshan was indicating. Three massive blocks of black marble had been used to frame a ten-foot door made of the same material. The glittering stone sparkled with shocks of gold and sat in eerie relief from the more natural surroundings.

“You alright?” Teyva asked Nephral as light began to fill the enormous chamber. Teyva looked up to see the ceiling begin to change in color, a blue sky filled with clouds hanging over their heads. Nephral buried his head further in response, not speaking. “You’ll have to talk to me about it eventually,” Teyva chimed, “You really should look up and see this at least, we did this.”

Nephral pulled his head out from beneath his paw and looked to the ceiling. He froze, awe widening those feline eyes of his; “It is a sky.”

Teyva smiled and stroked his head; “We did good, Neph.”

“The Great Tree sheds its light upon us, a good sign, it is healing well,” Deshan grunted before turning his head toward the great stone doors. Teyva returned her focus to her destination, the doors had been opened and the marble itself appeared to be cracked. The fracture spread out from the center point of the two doors, creating an almost web-like burst of cracks.

Azrael approached the stone and ran her fingers over the damage; “What could have done this?”

“Who, more like,” Deshan said, “Agents of the mortal races came here seeking what was within this chamber, I know not their purpose or the purpose of the chamber itself, but-”

“I know it,” Teyva said, approaching the opening between the two doors, she glanced back at Deshan and frowned; “It holds the memories of a people better left forgotten.”

The words sent a shiver up her spine as if she resented herself for even saying it. A spell of nausea cast over her and she had to cough once to clear her throat. She offered herself a smug smile, so she had free will but whatever spell had been cast on her was trying to color her thoughts with subtlety. Whether it was the ghost of the queen herself or something else lingering inside her mind; speaking ill of the Labrynthians seemed like an easy way to test its grip.

Azrael glanced her way, her new yellow eyes carefully watching Teyva’s shift in mood. Teyva waved a dismissive hand at her, urging her not to worry about it. Azrael shrugged and readied herself while Teyva pushed the doors a bit to slip inside. The Greatwolf stepped back, observing them as they entered the Labyrinthian tomb.

On the other side, they found a room, unlike the one Teyva had awoken in when she’d first arrived in the world of Orum. The first had been a long rectangular chamber ending in a sarcophagus, this chamber was circular and had no specific endpoint. It was ringed with man-sized columns topped with bowls of ever-burning fire. Unlike the first tomb, though, there were already bodies waiting for them rather than bodies made by their efforts. Four figures lay on the ground, their corpses withered and emaciated. There was not even a smell of death about them, just a strange stillness. All of them faced the central point of the room which was crowned by a podium of some sort.

While Azrael moved over to inspect the bodies, Teyva took some time to take in more of the room. A single line of carvings in the Labyrinthian tongue started at the entrance and weaved its way around the room and back. Teyva’s lip twitched when she saw it. She stroked Nephral’s shoulders and he glanced up, peering cautiously at the wall.

“Labyrinthian,” he said cooly, no love lost for the words on the wall, “A language of feelings and intention as well as symbols and words. Most languages have a source in Labyrinthian.”

“Can it mess with your head?” Teyva asked.

“It can make you feel things, yes, for the unprepared it can be jarring or even life-changing,” Nephral warned, he then looked in her direction; “You have already read it’s like before, yes?”

Teyva frowned and ran her fingers along with the text. She could feel the emotion in the words, but it was more like watching a film than feeling the gut-punch of being in the moment. If she’d only had a little warning beforehand, but it was her stupidity that had led to reading the text in the first place. Now she could read it just fine and not shed a tear. Not that she didn’t want to on some malformed level. Whatever it was that had piggybacked out of the tomb with her was sickened by the words on the wall.

“Slaves built these tombs,” Teyva said, “Or rather, Creations of the Creators, offspring of the ‘Endless Court’, served their makers in the construction of this place of reflection,” Teyva read, walking along the wall.

Azrael looked up from one of the bodies she’d flipped over. She’d been rifling through his pockets. She squinted at the words on the wall; “You can read it?”

“Yes, and I’d suggest you don’t. The language can play games with your mind, make you feel things if you don’t understand it properly,” Teyva warned.

Azrael paled a little and nodded, returning to what she’d been doing. Teyva followed the story around the room, each passage adding a bit more clarity. According to the text, the chamber was a private place of meditation for the queen of the Labyrinthians and one of her ‘sacred points’. This chamber had been joined to many others via the passages of the labyrinth but as the great underground structure withered so did the ways to move about underground. Slaves had been created and used for some time to maintain the halls during the death of the Labyrinth. Labyrinthians refused to enslave their own kind.

“They created the mortal races, I knew they weren’t benevolent,” Teyva murmured, she’d assumed that the racial ability she’d acquired implied that the races were descendants of the Labyrinthians but this suggested a much darker explanation. Teyva turned away from the wall and shuddered, rubbing her arms while she walked toward Azrael.

Azrael looked up from the corpses; “Nothing much here, you learn anything interesting?”

“Nothing that won’t completely obliterate your worldview,” Teyva said cagily, giving up on the story and moving toward the Azrael.

“I dare say my worldview has already been quite obliterated just by spending time with you, Akura,” Azrael pointed out, wiping her hands off on her shirt.

Teyva blinked, “Akura?”

“Well, it sounded to me like the name Teyva was something you couldn’t bear hearing, because of the queen, yes? Akura is a name you chose though, not her. I’d say that would be a better thing to call you.”

Teyva rubbed her nose and smiled at her friend; “You’re a dork, Teyva is fine but you can call me whatever you want.” She clapped her on the shoulder. The whispers in her head weren’t about to take her identity from her. She’d be damned before that happened.

“I do not know what a ‘Dork’ is,” Azrael shot back with a frown.

Teyva laughed and moved to the center of the large room with Azrael in tow. The two of them stopped in front of what looked like a stool or a podium of some kind. There wasn’t anything on it and it appeared to be cushioned. Teyva walked around the strange thing and gave it a once over before taking a knee and examining the floor around it. There weren’t any signs of writing there either. Without much else to do she glanced at Azrael and shrugged. Azrael made a face when Teyva moved to touch the object.

“What are you doing?”

“Using my journal, the only thing I can think of-” She was cut off as a prompt appeared in her vision.

“Yes?”

Teyva pulled her hand away, wide-eyed, “Well shit,” she said, stepping back a few paces and sitting herself down on the ground. Nephral hopped off her shoulder and turned around, giving her a concerned look. Azrael rushed to her side, practically sliding across the smooth ground to put a hand on Teyva’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?” She asked.

“I will be, just give me a second,” Teyva breathed, “Just found out I’ve been mortal this entire time,” She held her head. So the damage to the sarcophagus had disabled respawning for her. But that meant all the reckless things she’d done up until this point; Throwing herself into battle, standing up to Deshan, especially the close scare with the Bound One. Those all could have been her last moment.

Even worse, she hadn’t been getting new respawns since the first Heart Stone was damaged. She pulled her knees up to her chest and let out a stiff breath, searching for calm. Her emotions were all over the place and she was beginning to suspect that this was just going to be her natural state of being. Constantly off balance. She hated that feeling, something she and the little voice at the back of her head could agree on. She ran her mind through what she’d learned, trying to come to terms with it.

“Heart stone,” Teyva murmured and pulled up her inventory. Sure enough, [Heart Stone of the Labyrinth] was in her inventory. Did that mean she could make a respawn point for herself? She closed her inventory and rubbed her face. There was so much to unpack here that she just couldn’t sit there and go through it all at once. She needed to rest, badly. She got to her feet and brushed herself off. Azrael was sitting off to the side staring off into space before jerking to attention at a jab from Teyva. “Hey sleepyhead, we’ve got all we can get out of this place, let’s get out of here.”

“Right,” Azrael said, getting to her feet and scratching her head; “So what does that mean? Are you not mortal anymore?”

“Not quite, right now? If I die, I’m dead. It’s a little tough to explain but basically, I’ll get an extra shot once in a while that I can save up,” Teyva said, walking with her friend toward the door.

“So no more reckless hijinks?” Azrael asked.

“You almost sound disappointed.”

“Me? Never, I daresay my heart could use a break from recklessness,” Azrael shot back.

“I just found out I could die!” Teyva complained.

“Ahh, poor you, welcome to the party!”

“Speaking of parties, do you think they’ll throw one when we get back to the settlement?” Teyva asked, rubbing her chin. “I could go for barbeque, smelled like they had some spicy stuff while we were heading out, though those noodles were definitely worth their weight in gold.”

“We’ll find out when we get there,” Azrael said, giving Teyva a sidelong look; “You sure you are okay?”

Teyva shrugged and scratched the back of her head. She wasn’t sure how to comfortably answer that question at the moment so she just gave her friend a noncommittal grunt and left it at that. Azrael sighed and stepped through the doorway ahead of Teyva. Soon the two women were standing in the shadow of the Wolf Lord. Around them, his pack had already found comfortable places to sit among the stones and grass of the Underfield.

The mighty wolf loomed over the two of them before inclining his head, “Did you find what you needed?”

“I think so,” Teyva said, “At least I have a bit more clarity,” It was a mixed bag if she’d ever seen one. She wasn’t sure what to make of everything she’d learned. She still had some questions about how deep the emotions left behind by the Labyrinthian mural went. There was also some reflecting she needed to do concerning her own very prominent mortality. She let out a sigh; “It might be time for us to depart for now, though,” Teyva said offering the titanic wolf a short bow.

The mighty wolf hesitated but nodded after searching her face; “You are always welcome here, all of you,” Deshan said and looked all three of them in the eye taking time to give Nephral a respectful nod; “You are well met, again, Nephral, son of Teyva Akura.”

Nephral turned a bashful head toward the wolf and bowed, “Thank you for granting them your blessing, Wolf among Wolves.”

The greatwolf snorted and turned toward the passage leading up and into the once darkened halls they had fought through so desperately. A few steps took him to the side of the opening and his pack parted to allow them to pass. As they stepped through, Deshan stopped Teyva briefly, leaning in to speak in a low voice.

“Good luck to you, little one. I await your return.”