RE: Monarch

Chapter 108: Sanctum XXXIII

But on top of the fact that the ingredients were devilishly rare, the potions half-life was incredibly short, lasting less than two days before it went over. It was also practically pointless to use outside the sanctumif the expanded pathways werent flooded by the increased ambient mana in the sanctum strata, the change was temporary, and the mana paths would return to normal.

Casikas had referred to this as the golden grail of sanctum potions. The sort of thing that even the most talented alchemist would only have one opportunity for. Given our current situation, that was almost poetic.

I was a bit nervous during the process. The brewing required a sustained high-heat, but I only messed up the first batch, leaving us with enough for five. It didnt have an additive effect, so after Vogrin confirmed everything was in order, I handed out the rest and pocketed the last one.

We all drank our potions in grim silence. The low-humming of the gate served as a constant reminder of what we were about to do.

Jorra finally hacked a violent cough. Lord below, thats disgusting.

Like taffy thats gone over. Bell smacked her lips.

Still, quite a bit more pleasant than the iron-lung potion you gave me, Maya said.

I shifted towards her. You used that?

Oh yes. She winked. My initial year in the sanctum was harried. I will tell you the story after we make it through.

There was a feeling not unlike all my muscles were expanding at once. A chorus of groans followed, telling me the others were experiencing something similar. The feeling of stretching moved away from my muscles, to my neck, to my legs.

It is officially worse now, Maya moaned.

A few minutes of discomfort later, the feeling passed, and we rose shakily to our feet.

I squeezed my fist tightly, looking at the gate, then released my fingers with a slow breath. Okay. Order of operations. Jorra, use your demon to check for any hazards. The tiny insect on his shoulder nodded in unison with him, which was slightly eerie. Maya, hang back.

I can take a more active role, Maya protested.

I shook my head. I know you can. But if you go down, were all at risk.

Finally, I looked at Bell. There was a mix of emotions on her face. Excitement. Trepidation. Trust.

Something twisted in my gut. I ignored it.

Bell. Youre with me up front. Were going to push this hard. As long as Jorras demon can clear the area, we go as fast as we can, and only clear what we have to.

Im ready. Bell grinned.

I wanted to say more. But any sentiment I had was repetitive at this point. They knew the plan. And they would follow me, no matter the outcome. So instead of waxing poetic, or repeating myself, I drew my sword and set it aflame.

Ready?

They drew their weapons.

Lets get this done.

I turned and ran headfirst into the portal.

/////

Entering the portal to the enclave was a simple experience, only off-putting the first few times. It was like stepping through a membrane that offered slight resistance, then snapped, and you instantly found yourself in another place. I think, on a subconscious level, I expected something similar.

It was entirely different. Instead of pushing against you, the violet portal pulled you in, a gelatinous vacuum. It pulled at my eyes until I was forced to close them. Panic tugged at me for a moment, as it was not unlike the sensation I felt when I died and was pulled into the void. But there was no feeling of disembodiment, just a constant, unyielding pull.

I was assailed by images. Infernals at war, using primitive weapons against demons. They appeared to be losing, constantly pushed back by a massive collective of nightmarish throngs. I immediately recognized Asmodials in the mix of opposition, as well as massive insects, dogs, and beings that looked like angels that I took to from the Decarabia legion.

Another flash and the scene before me changed. Moonlight streamed through frosted windows, illuminating the center of a darkened room that appeared to be a place of worship. Dozens of pews lined either side, leading up to an altar where a single woman prayed. Beads of sweat trailed down her forehead, appearing crimson against her scarlet skin.

A sphere of light that looked similar to the auric sun appeared above her.

But the woman did not startle. She reached up with a single hand, her fingertips trembling. Her words were not audible, but it was clear she was begging, beseeching the formless sphere. Her eyes were wide and haunted.

Bring me an exquisite truth, The sphere said. A vile truth. A thing you have never dared speak of.

The woman physically cringed. She said something. A question, perhaps. But the sphere did not respond. Finally, she spoke. Again, I could not hear her words, but she spoke slowly enough I could read her lips as they formed a single sentence.

I cannot do this on my own.

There was a flash of light as the orb suddenly lashed out, a tendril of searing light wrapping around her wrist. But the woman did not try to scramble away. She watched the orb, tears streaming down her cheeks.

A violet flame consumed her arm, spreading across her entire body. It spread from her to the wood of the floors and the pews, but left her flesh unscathed.

Was this the birth of the demon-fire?

It lined up with what I knew of the mythology. That the infernals were subjugated by the demons until the flame gave them a method to seal them, eventually turning the tides. But I had no idea the woman who received it was a red. From all accounts, only the most powerful infernals, the violets, ever wielded the flame.

But my time to contemplate had passed, as I was pulled through the rest of the gate, and unceremoniously dropped. I fell a short distance, managing to twist my body around with a burst of air, so I landed upright, but still tumbled to my knees from the fall.

The room was pitch black. I called the spark. There was a rush of wind as the oil-thick darkness rushed in to snuff it, snapping my wrist backward painfully. Carefully, I flexed it in the dark, feeling only mild discomfort. No damage, but this room clearly had some sort of mana-dampening.

Everyone alright? I called out.

The only answer was my voice, bouncing off walls hidden beyond the darkness.

Hello? I tried again, panic rising in my gut. We hadnt accounted for what to do if we were separated. It had seemed like a foregone conclusion we would all go to the same place.

Thin fingers wrapped around my wrist and I shouted aloud, swinging my sword blindly at the entity that clung to me, impacting something.

Stop, you ingrate! A familiar voice snarled. I froze, sword halted mid-swing above my head.

Vogrin? I asked, unsure.

Yes, He hissed back. Now put that sword down before you hurt yourself.

You can see?

Barely. I can sense the surroundings and dimensions.

Good. I cant see anything and cant light the way. Where are the others?

I felt the pathways split and managed to latch onto you. The others were sent in another direction not far from here. But if you hit me again, Ill let you wander indefinitely.

I hesitated for a moment, then lowered the sword. Your fault for sneaking up on me in the dark. Though I hope you arent injured.

Just a minor head wound that is now trickling into my blinder. His words were dripping with sarcasm. Now, shall we be on our way before the spirits of the dead make up their minds and begin to feast?

Yes, I suppose we should.

I followed as Vogrin led me through the dark, pausing before moving left, or right, the path growing increasingly circuitous. Something began to tick in my mind. Is there a reason youre walking in circles?

We are surrounded by bodies, Vogrin whispered. What made me uneasy was that he actually sounded unsettled. None of the mortals were properly put to rest. Their spirits linger.

Does that happen? I asked, lowering my tone to match his.

Only if something greater is keeping them here. Vogrin answered.

The tiny ticking sensation grew louder. It wasnt so much what Vogrin had said, more how he had said it. The demon carried a constant air of irritability and hated explaining things, no matter the question.

I spoke carefully. Vogrin, do you remember what you said? When Ozra gave you a choice in the Twilight Chambers?

Vogrin was silent, continuing to lead me on the circuitous path. If hed stayed that way, I likely would have yanked my arm away and drawn my sword. But then, he answered.

That Id rather return to hades. Judging from our current circumstances, that clearly would have been the better option. His voice was snide and irritable. The sort of tone I expected from him.

The alarm in my head lessened. That last sentiment had been quintessentially Vogrin. Perhaps it was just paranoia. There were times he had been more serious, less pathetically glib.

Hello? I heard a voice call.

Vogrin stilled. Dont move, He growled quietly. One of the specters has awakened.

My entire body tensed as we paused in the darkness.

The voice was loud, with a slightly pompous way of speaking. Heard you calling, friend. Not sure if you know what youve gotten yourself into, but youve stumbled into a trial. You cant believe anything you hear in there.

You cannot trust spirits, Vogrin whispered, his hiss cutting off the new voices words.

Its probably telling you right now that you cant trust me, the voice said. Vogrin stiffened. But if you can hear me, run towards my voice.

My mind raced for a moment. There was no give away, no tell, the only thing putting me off Vogrins slight hesitation. Like Id fall for that. I scoffed.

A wise choice. Vogrin said.

Without a seconds hesitation, I called the flame and plunged it into the back of his head. For a moment, everything was so bright it was almost blinding, a single image imprinted on my retinas.

A fleshy, melting facsimile of my demon was lurching forward, reaching up toward the fire that burned at his skull. Long medallions of bloody skin hung from the creatures chin and neck. He was clad in a butchers apron, covered in crimson and blood, a giant cleaver in his left hand. Before us was a coffin filled with cruel scarlet painted spikes.

There was no question what it was intended for.

The darkness rushed in and snapped his head forward, extinguishing the demon-fire before it could do any meaningful damage. I turned and sprinted toward the voice. The monster howled in rage as I stumbled through a field of bodies, tripping and tumbling at every turn, hollow bones cracking beneath me and flesh giving way.

Run friend, run! The voice called out to me. I reoriented towards it. Pale white specters rose, barely visible in the blackness, howling, hands and nails clawing at their faces, swiping at me, seething with rage.

The monster huffed behind me, breathing laborious wet breaths. I propelled myself forward with the inscriptions, finding to my relief the darkness did not seem to care about internal magic, and sprinted. But the monster picked up speed.

I felt its breath on my neck.

All I could think about was the moment I would go back to. Forever fighting that battle against the corrupted mercenaries, trying over and over until my mind left me. Watching Maya die, over and over again.

I bent down deep and dove forward, using a flat platform of air magic to prolong my jump.

The light blinded me as I rolled into the room. There was a loud thunking noise as the door slammed shut behind me.

I blinked my eyes furiously, trying to adjust to the light, scrambling up to my feet and brandishing my sword.

Heart racing in my throat, blurry objects slowing coming back into focus, I honed in on the last person I expected to see. The hells are you doing here?

A younger, more spindly version of the infernal I came to know as Ralakos looked me up and down. A better question, human. What the hells are you doing here?