The cave appeared before me like a wound in the black stone.
The walls, damp and shiny, dripped a viscous substance that glowed with a green, sickly light. The air, heavier than on the plain, smelled of dried blood and sulfur. The sound of running water – or something like water – echoed at the end of the tunnel, muffled, distant.
I dragged myself inside. My calloused hands hurt with every movement. My legs, broken, hung behind me like two dead logs. The backpack, pressed against my chest, pulsed – faster than before, hotter.
The egg, I thought. It's close to hatching.
The tunnel widened, giving way to an immense chamber. The ceiling was lost in darkness. The floor, smooth and black, reflected the faint light coming from a crack in the rock high above. And in the center of the chamber, chained to a stone column, an angel.
He was large, larger than any man I had ever seen. His wings, once white, were now burned – the feathers, black and broken, fell to the ground like ash. His body, muscular, covered with scars that glowed with a red, pulsing light. His face, handsome, but deformed by pain. His eyes, green, fixed on mine.
"A mortal," he said, his voice deep, tired. "How long since I've seen a mortal."
"Zirinos," I replied, dragging myself closer. "Who are you?"
"Seraphyx. Former angel. Current... prisoner."
The chains that bound him to the column were thick, of black iron, covered with runes that glowed with a blue light. Every time he moved, the chains crackled, and he groaned.
"What holds you?" I asked.
"The hatred of the gods. Or their indifference. It's the same thing, you know?"
Seraphyx looked at the backpack. His green eyes shone with something I could not place. Sadness? Maybe, I know what is being left by god, well, to be honest is more like "I know what is like to be left by an Arcane, actually The Arcane, seeing that there is only one, just like the universe.
"The egg you carry... is not from this world."
"What?"
"It's just like I said, mortal. That egg is not from this world. One day you'll see it. t will hatch when your blood bathes it."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I too was an egg, long ago. And my blood... my blood was bathed in fire."
The chains crackled again. Seraphyx groaned, but did not look away.
"Flee from here, mortal. The serpent of the abyss is near. She will sense you."
"I can't run. My legs are broken."
"Then drag yourself faster."
He knelt – or tried to. The chains stopped him. He only tilted his head.
"Take this," he said, spitting a burned feather in my direction. The feather, black and shiny, fell on the ground a few meters from me. "Use it to protect yourself. Once only."
"Why are you helping me?"
"Because the gods have forgotten me. And I want them to remember who I was before being forgotten."
I grabbed the feather. It was warm, warmer than my skin. It seemed alive.
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't thank me. Just survive and remember me."
I dragged myself toward the exit. The feather, kept in my pocket next to the Soul Crystal, pulsed.
Seraphyx remained behind, chained, alone. His eyes, lifeless, just like Lysara or Fenísia.
---
The Lake of Magma appeared at the end of the tunnel like a nightmare.
The water – if it could be called water – was red and shining, bubbling, with slow waves that beat against the banks of black stone. The heat was suffocating, unbearable. The air trembled. The smell of sulfur, more intense than on the plain, burned my lungs.
And in the center of the lake, the serpent.
Ophisrael was colossal, larger than any creature I had ever seen. Her body, covered in black scales, coiled upon itself in an infinite spiral. Her eyes, yellow, were closed. She slept.
Pass without waking her, I thought. Pass without waking her.
I dragged myself to the shore. The stone, hot, burned my hands. Sweat ran down my forehead, my eyes, my mouth. My broken legs hurt.
Ophisrael stirred.
Her yellow eyes opened.
"Who... sss" the serpent's voice was deep, cavernous, like the sound of rolling stones. "Who daresss dist-ss-urb my sle-ss-ep?"
"No one," I replied, my voice trembling. "No one dares. I'm leaving."
"You-ss will." Ophisrael uncoiled her body. The lake of magma boiled. "But not ali-ss-ve."
The serpent attacked.
Her enormous head descended upon me like a mountain. I rolled. The impact cracked the stone floor. Shards flew, cutting my face.
"I can't fight," I shouted. "I'm broken!"
"The bro-ss-ken die easssier."
Ophisrael attacked again.
I rolled again. The serpent's head hit the shore, opening a crater. The magma spread, burning the stone, burning the air.
I used Seraphyx's feather.
I didn't think. I didn't hesitate. I just took it from my pocket and stabbed it into the ground.
The light that came from the feather was white, blinding, deafening. The heat, a wave that swept the chamber. Ophisrael recoiled, panting, her yellow eyes fixed on the light.
"The an-ss-gel," hissed the serpent. "He helpsss you?"
"He does not!"
"Die, then. Like I care-ss for that pig-ss-eon"
The light went out. The feather crumbled to ash.
Ophisrael attacked again. Slower, weaker, but still deadly.
I dragged myself toward the crack in the rock – the same one through which the light had entered. My hands, bleeding, clung to the stone. My legs, broken, dragged on the ground. The serpent, behind me, approached.
I entered the crack. Ophisrael tried to follow, but her enormous body didn't fit.
"Cow-ss-ard," she hissed. "Flee, mortal. Flee-ss."
"I will," I replied, gasping. "But I will return later."
The serpent did not answer. She only closed her eyes and went back to sleep.
The lake of magma boiled in silence.
---
In the crack, the darkness was total.
I dragged myself for what seemed like hours. My hands, blind, groped the stone floor. My knees – the broken bones, but still useful – scraped against the rock. The backpack, pressed against my chest, pulsed – faster, hotter.
I stopped. I took the Soul Crystal from my pocket.
The crystal glowed in the darkness, a faint blue light, pulsing. Inside, fragments of light danced – souls, memories, pieces of lives.
"Show me," I whispered. "Show me what I need to see."
The crystal glowed brighter.
Mira's voice came from inside.
"Zirinos?" she called, her voice small, distant. "Zirinos, where are you?"
"I am far away," I replied, my voice trembling. "I am in hell."
"Does hell hurt?"
"It hurts. But I will return."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Mira's voice fell silent. The crystal darkened.
I put it in my pocket.
I dragged myself forward.
The tunnel continued, dark, infinite.
So did hell.