As they moved across the field, Athar and Irun kept glancing around them to see if they could spot any of these so-called observers, but to no avail. They kept this up until they reached the gate, where they encountered a tall, daemonic figure.
It stood roughly two meters tall, with graphite-colored scales that looked like plate armor, burning red eyes, and three sharp horns spawning from the top of its forehead. At the crown of its head, a plume of long, black, scaly feathers was embedded into the thick plate. The blade it carried on its back was made of a similar material that the creature's scales were, gleaming softly in the sickly green light that adorned the citadel.
"You're late, mage," the creature spoke in a voice that sounded like crushed gravel. "My apologies, Gavar. There were some unforeseen complications that arose," the Masked One said, bowing his head just a little.
I've never seen you defer to anyone, or anything for that matter. Who, or rather, what is this? Athar asked, knowing his thoughts were being read.
"Lord Gavar Bacruh, leader of the Ironplume clan and Chief of all Hegraphenes, please allow me to introduce you to my two subordinates, Athar and Irun. The first, an abandoned bastard of King Truls Wishert, and the second a former synner of Codrean," he said the creature's name at length to explain everything subtly.
What the fuck is a hegraphene? Is this a new kind of monster that we've never even heard about at Codrean? Irun thought, his eyes wide and glued to the creature's visage.
Shut up, Ardrin sent back immediately.
"Addressing me by my full title to hopefully prevent your two subordinates from disrespecting me is a smart move," Gavar said, eyeing the pair behind the Masked One. "I see one of them even went so far as gaining a daemonic arm. That was your doing, I take it?" the creature asked, bending a scale above its eyebrow upward in curiosity.
"It was. He lost an arm during a fight with one of his former comrades, though I don't suspect he'll lose another," Ardrin replied, letting his words hang in the air. "I see," Gavar said with a tone that suggested little more than disappointment. "In any case, we should go. He has been expecting you for quite some time now, and it would be best to not keep him waiting any longer," the creature said, gesturing for the trio to follow him.
The large, metallic gate behind them creaked open, and the sound of heavy chains and gears could be heard turning behind the high walls. As it opened, the path before them was revealed to be a long, thin bridge, underlit by the same, green light as the rest of the citadel. While they were crossing, Athar noticed a few creatures on a distant, interior wall grinning down at him.
They don't look human, but they somehow feel familiar, he thought, quickly averting his gaze back toward the path ahead of him.
They're other alternates, not unlike the one that resides within you, though these would sooner kill their hosts than settle for temporary possession. They must be sensing the one you have, that's why they're glaring at you, and not Irun or I, Ardrin sent in an even tone, using the link he constantly maintained.
The doors to the citadel opened, and Athar immediately recognized the grand hall, its patterns and internal structure were incredibly similar to that of Valdis, though the ornaments differed slightly; the large skeletal skulls replaced with thousands of smaller, more grotesque ones. The pale, green aura still sulked throughout the citadel, though it was far less pronounced around the back of the throne room. Sitting atop a massive throne made of bones, sinew, and steel was Volzuk.
His eyes glowed an intense, blood-flame red, the tendrils thereof licking the base of his elongated horns. An elongated, clawed hand held his rested head that was titled to the side, while the other toyed mindlessly with a globe of pitch black mana.
"It's about time you arrived, worm," Volzuk said, his voice carrying down the length of the hall like a thunderclap. The intensity of his voice nearly knocked the trio from their kneeling position. "I apologize for my tardiness, my lord. There were some complications that arose, causing my delay," the Masked One said, bowing his head a little lower.
Volzuk lifted his head from his claw, a thin string of flesh and bodily fluid lingering as he pulled away. "Complications? You mean your failure of an experiment that escaped? The alternate that you also brought back with you during your last visit? Or was it, perhaps, the overall forgotten reason of why we kept sending creatures into Caegwen in the first place?" he asked, his tone level but threatening and full of disappointment.
"My lord, I have not forgotten about the artifacts in Caegwen. As unfortunate as it may be, the elves have already found and recovered four of them, according to the last report I received, and I'm sure they know I have the fifth," Ardrin replied. "So, the sixth is still missing? It's unfortunate, but it at least allows me more time to develop my forces," Volzuk said.
"How much longer do you think it will be until the main force is ready, my lord?" Ardrin asked. "If the breeding goes as smoothly as I think it will, about two-thousand cycles," the Undergod replied after a moment's consideration.
Two thousand cycles? How long is that? Irun asked himself.
"Are you just ignorant, or have you already forgotten that I can hear everything you're thinking, worm?" Volzuk spoke up, his tone growing increasingly annoyed. "To answer your question, and it will be the last one of yours I ever answer, it is roughly two years in the Real; the equivalent of two thousand in this realm. Now, I've blocked out most of your thoughts since your arrival, incoherent babbling as it was, but I've had enough. Gavar, take him away, and far enough so that I cannot hear his thoughts during the remainder of their time here," the Undergod flicked a claw in a dismissive manner.
Irun was stunned with the pressure emitted over him, his mouth jolting as he tried to speak, but nothing more than an aerated whisper managed to leave his mouth. Without a word, he was picked up by his shoulder strap and dragged out of the large hall.
"Now, back to more important matters," he said, turning his gaze toward the remaining pair. "Athar, was it? I'm glad to see you've learned much and conditioned your body well since our last meeting," Volzuk said, leaning forward a little, resting his decrepit elbows on his knees.
"I-I have, great one. The Masked One has been kind enough to instruct me in the ways of mana, and Irun has helped me train since his defection," Athar said, bowing his head even lower. "Oh? Interesting. Let me have a closer look at you," the Undergod said, sending a ruthless chill down Ardrin's spine.
Athar, for whatever reason, didn't feel the chill like Ardrin.
A low thrumming came from the end of the hall, and both Athar and the Masked One could feel mana being pulled from the atmosphere. Unlike when a consciousness pulled it, there was a palpable sensation, a sort of pressure, that exuded its will upon its surroundings. With a slight flinch, Athar held his own against the immense changes.
Just as suddenly as it came, however, the pressure halted, seemingly pausing the world around them. "You may rise," the Undergod's voice resounded from across the hall, though not quite as thunderous as before. Hesitantly, both Athar and Ardrin rose to their feet, and raised their heads to look at the owner of the voice.
His skinless and horned features were still present, though his form was much smaller. He still stood about a head taller than Ardrin, even after having absorbed the royal ochelon's core, but it was much less gigantic than his previous form. A soft and wet splattering could be heard resounding from the ground beneath his feet as he touched the ground. Within a single step, he appeared directly in front of the pair, not having made a sound.
"Welcome to Pydredd, the once-sister Citadel to Valdis, Athar," Volzuk said, moving his face mere centimeters away from the young man's. As the Undergod looked him up and down, settling on his core with an unnerving grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, Athar's eyes gazed into the blood-flame red ones in front of him, unflinchingly. "Thank you for welcoming us into your home, great one, though I'm not sure what I did to deserve the change of form," Athar said, his tone shaky and betraying his semi-stoic features.
A low rumble that resembled a chuckle came from the skinless figure in front of him. "I can tell you're doing your best to not show your fear, and hiding your thoughts; a beneficial piece of your training, I imagine," Volzuk said, mildly amused.
"I-I can't think of anything else to do in the presence of such power, great one," Athar said, bowing his head in subservience. "You've taught him well, worm," Volzuk said, shooting a look of both superiority and mild pride toward the Masked One. "I still have to apologize for Irun, as he's not as conditioned as Athar is, my lord," Ardrin said, meeting his gaze from underneath a furrowed brow.
"Oh, so that's the fool's name. No matter, he will learn his place in the world quickly, whether by my hand or another's," Volzuk said in a distant tone that carried an unspoken threat. "Regardless, I'd like to show you something that your master and I have been working on," he continued, wrapping a clawed hand over the young man's shoulder. Athar nearly shuddered, but managed to hold his own, merely squinting his eyes lightly at the cold, sharp touch.
"I'm sure you're wondering why your master attacked Coltend Castle, and I honestly doubt he ever had the intention of telling you," Volzuk began speaking and walking towards a hallway settled into the right wall of the large hall. "He told me he needed the Gwynnleaf, though for what reason, I never understood, great one," Athar said.
"In that case, allow me to educate you, in a way that your master clearly hasn't for his own reasons, I'm sure," Volzuk said demeaningly. "I taught him only what I thought was necessary, my lord," the Masked One said, a slight hint of frustration in his voice. "What you thought and I know are two, very different things, mage," the Undergod spat, forcing Ardrin to pause momentarily before continuing to follow the pair.
"Now, as you well know, if one is in the Real, one can draw from either the Ethereal or from here in the Underworld. However, what they don't tell you is that if one imbibes the Gwynnleaf solution, it allows them to draw from either realm without the risk of losing their consciousness to the realm, nor suffer any kind of major backlash," Volzuk began.
"Wait, so I've been drinking deathmold solution needlessly?" Athar asked, the shock evident on his face. "I wouldn't say needlessly, as without it you would have suffered a fate far worse than death only having drawn mana from this realm," Volzuk answered. "O-oh, I see. But, then, why didn't we have any of the solution the synners use, master?" he asked Ardrin.
"Because the attack I performed on Grundvollr about forty years ago didn't have much left for our experiments. The one synner placed in charge of making the solution was… accidentally killed and the information he held died with him, limiting our supply," the Masked One began to explain.
"That said, it was only a matter of time before we ran out of the solution, forcing our hand to find a larger source of the plant to be able to make it ourselves," he continued. "That's why you went to Codrean and Coltend with such a large force: To get as much of it as possible," Athar concluded.
Ardrin nodded his head. "However, this was not without its own set of problems, as now the entire realm knows of our, or at least my, existence. We simply didn't account for the Arwydus to be involved during our assault on Coltend, much less the potency of their strength. The assault on Coltend was more of an experiment of what could be done through mana-imbued crystals, and its success was quite impressive, even if it did take us well over three-hundred years to develop," he said.
"Three-hundred years," Athar said under his breath.
"That is why, once your master gathered as much of it as he could, we began developing our own experiments using members of Gavar's clan to help us push their power to their limits. It would also allow them to draw mana from this realm in the Real, as they solely rely on their own physical strength while deployed. We've just recently discovered this with the last batch that we sent to Caegwen. These experiments, in turn, help us lay the groundwork for… future endeavors," Volzuk chimed back in, taking the reins of the conversation once more.
There's still something I'm missing here, but I'm not sure if I want to ask it just yet, he thought as he digested the information, shielding his mind as best he could to avoid being heard.
Fuck it, he concluded.
"So, where do I come into all of this? What interest do you have in me, great one?" Athar asked, even more unsure if he wanted to know the answer as he turned to find Volzuk grinning malevolently. "You're quite observant, aren't you?" he asked, the intensity in his eyes deepening. "Unfortunately, now is not the right time for that discussion, as there is still much work left to be done," Volzuk answered, rubbing the base of his skinless chin.
"However, what I can promise is that the time will be coming, and it will be much sooner than those fools are ready for," he answered.