Paragon of Destruction

Before they entered the keep, Arran gathered up the slain mages’ void bags. Even at a time like this, he wouldn’t risk losing out on any treasures — whatever dangers still lay ahead in the months to come, he would doubtless find some use for whatever possessions the bags held.

Snowcloud looked on with a bemused expression, but she didn’t say anything as Arran looted the mages’ bodies. Still, he felt some embarrassment at being watched while he robbed the dead.

"My grandfather wasn’t a Patriarch," he said, by way of explanation. "I have to make do with what I can take."

Snowcloud didn’t reply, although her expression turned thoughtful.

When Arran finished the grim work, he took a look around the courtyard. "You said they’d been taking slaves," he said. "Are you sure about that?"

So far, the only people he had seen within the fortress walls were armed bandits and the mages who led them. There had been no sign whatsoever of any slaves, servants, or prisoners.

"I’m sure," Snowcloud replied. "When you were training your Sense, I followed one of their raiding parties to the fortress, and they had several dozens of prisoners with them."

"I suppose we’ll find them inside," Arran said. "Let’s go."

They entered the keep cautiously, both of them wary of any sudden attacks. Although the bandit Arran had questioned said there were only five mages, Arran did not put too much faith in the words. The man had hardly been in a calm state of mind, and even if he had been, he still could have lied.

Conscious of the danger they might still face, Arran kept both his Sense and his Shadowsight primed as they stepped through the keep’s massive doorway. If there was any danger, he would not be taken by surprise.

Beyond the keep’s doors they found a short hallway, and behind it lay a large dimly lit chamber that held several rows of tables. The tables were filled with fresh food — the mages’ last meal, Arran guessed. Yet well-used though the chamber seemed, there was no sign of any people here, either.

They quickly searched the ground floor, and at the back of the keep, they found a small open door that led outside. That explained why there were no bandits in the keep — they had clearly fled long ago — but it left open the question of where the prisoners were.

"We’ll have to check the floors above," Arran said. Perhaps there, they would be able to find at least one or two people who had not yet escaped and knew where they could find the prisoners.

"Maybe we should split up," Snowcloud said. "It will be faster if we—"

"No," Arran replied before she could even finish the sentence. "We stay together."

Once more, he found himself puzzled at Snowcloud’s naivety. It seemed that her sheltered upbringing and her staggering power had together left her almost blind to danger, with a casual confidence that could get them both killed if Arran did not put a halt to it.

Fortunately, she seemed to be aware of her own inexperience, and she had followed Arran’s lead without objecting. If not for that, Arran thought, he would already have left.

They found a staircase in a small room to the side of the main chamber and quickly made their way up the stairs.

The upper floors turned out to hold the mages’ chambers, which were spacious and well-furnished, though not to the point of lavishness. There were several items of interest here — gold, some scrolls, and a herb collection that caused Snowcloud to cry out in excitement — but once more, there was no sign of any people whatsoever.

As they made their way back down to the main chamber, Arran silently wondered where the prisoners were. Although it was possible that they had fled with the bandits, that seemed unlikely — the bandits had fled in a panic, and they certainly didn’t have the time to escort a group of prisoners out of the fortress.

"Maybe there’s a dungeon?" Snowcloud offered, her brow furrowed in thought. It was obvious that the absence of any prisoners mystified her as much as it did Arran.

"We’ve already searched the ground floor," Arran said. "And there was no sign of any dungeon."

"Give me a moment," Snowcloud replied. For several seconds, she stood motionless, a look of concentration on her face.

Just as Arran was about to ask what she was doing, she exclaimed, "Found it!" and headed toward one of the small rooms at the side of the main chamber.

Arran followed behind her, puzzled. They had already searched the room and it was completely empty, without any doors or hatches.

Yet Snowcloud confidently walked inside, then put her hand against the wall. A moment later, Arran could feel Essence emanating from her hand, and at once, the wall slid to the side, revealing a stone staircase leading downward.

"How did you know about that?" Arran asked, both surprised and impressed.

"I saw a similar hidden door in the Valley once," Snowcloud replied. "If you know what to look for and your Sense is strong enough, you can detect the Essence of the mechanism."

Arran nodded, understanding that her Sense was still far superior to his own.

"Let’s head down," he said. "If the prisoners are still in the fortress, they’ll be there."

They headed down the stairs, even more vigilant than before as they descended. While this would be the most likely place to find any remaining prisoners, it was also the most likely place to find any remaining threats.

The stairway was long, but eventually, they reached a small room at its bottom. The room only had a single door, and behind it, they found a long, wide hallway. The sides of the hallway were lined with large metal cages, each big enough to hold over a dozen people.

Yet all of the cages were completely empty, and the moment they stepped into the hallway, Arran was hit by a familiar stench — the stench of death, only far stronger than he had ever encountered it.

They silently walked through the hallway, neither of them needing words to understand the fate of the prisoners. The only questions that remained now were who had killed them, and why.

Arran drew his sword as they advanced, gathering Essence in his left hand to attack the moment it was needed. Beside him, Snowcloud did the same.

Slowly, they moved forward, ready to strike in an instant. Yet no attacks came and no enemies appeared, and they reached the end of the hallway unhindered, finding that it led to a large circular chamber.

The stench of death was even stronger in the chamber than it had been in the hallway, and Arran immediately saw why: along the side of the chamber lay numerous piles of bones and severed limbs, haphazardly stacked as if they were trash. At a glance, he knew hundreds had died here, if not more.

Despite the gruesome scene, his attention was instantly drawn to the center of the chamber, where a small altar stood. The altar was round and drenched in blood, but about a pace above it, a bright crimson orb hovered in mid-air.

"Blood magic," Snowcloud spat the words in a tone that held equal parts anger and disgust.

"What is that thing?" Arran asked, gesturing at the red orb.

"A Blood Crystal. Someone sacrificed thousands of people to make this... monstrosity," she replied, her voice shaking with anger.

"The deserters?" Arran asked.

Snowcloud shook her head. "They weren’t nearly powerful enough for something like this. This... this requires great strength, and even greater evil."

"Then we should leave," Arran said. "Now."

He quickly made his way to the center of the chamber and reached to grab the red orb from above the altar.

"What are you doing?!" Snowcloud cried out.

"I’m taking this thing," Arran said. "It’s powerful, right?"

"You can’t do that," Snowcloud said, voice filled with shock as she seemed to understand his intentions. "It’s evil. Thousands of people were murdered to create it."

"Leaving it here won’t bring them back," Arran replied. "And I played no part in their deaths."

"But you did."

The last words came from a raspy, hissing voice, and the moment Arran heard it, a wave of dread washed over him. It was a feeling of terror so strong it left him almost unable to move, and he instantly recognized it — he had felt the sensation once before in his life, and it was something he would not lightly forget.

He did not need to look to know whose voice it was.