As the words left his mouth, a muffled cry caught Zayne completely off guard.

  “Holy Swords, am I starting to hear voices now? Hello! Please, if anyone is there, help me!” the plea sounded completely human, and appeared to be coming from inside the wooden altar.

  But Zayne’s paranoia stopped him from moving any closer. He paused, once again glancing at the horrible words that had been inscribed, conflicted on what to do.

  “Who are you?”

  A sudden noise of relief came from within.

  “This isn’t just a dream. It can’t be.” he could hear the voice trying to persuade itself, “W-wait!”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Zayne replied sombrely, “For now. You haven’t answered my question.”

  “M-my name is Cenebrous.”

  “What kind of name is that?”

  He was genuinely dumbfounded at the parents that chose it.

  “What? I’ll have you know it’s a perfectly normal name!” it sounded offended, “That’s not important, is it? Just please come help me. Don’t worry, the key’s right in front. Just out of my reach.”

  “Oof. That must suck.” he nodded along sympathetically.

  “Which is why I would very much appreciate it if you came in here and freed me.”

  After being stuck with an old man that couldn’t speak and had lost his wits, it felt kind of nice hearing authentic human emotion. That didn’t mean that this guy was not a monster trying to kill him, but at least it made him feel better.

  “How did you end up trapped with the keys in front of you?”

  “I don’t know, alright.” the voice snapped, “Here I was, just trying to look at the key my good friend gave me, and now I’m chained inside some gods-forsaken place, with oil dropping every few seconds onto my head. If this is what the hells are like, then I’d rather face death at the hands of the Scabbards.”

  “Wait, what year are you from?” a festering doubt had started to rise.

  “Stop trying to distract me with questions!”

  He waited until the voice realised it had no choice but to answer.

  “Two hundred and seventy-three. There, happy now? I don’t know what you’re trying to get out of me, with these worthless queries of yours. Are you trying to imply that you are from the ancient past, or something nonsensical like that?”

  “Actually, I’m from the future.”

  Somehow he managed to keep himself from sounding dazed. Sure, Cenebrous could be lying, but Zayne severely doubted it.

  “Are you trying to trick me? At this rate, I’m starting to doubt if you’re human at all. You might as well be a Spawn trying to fool me.”

  A Spawn? Even in his overwhelmed mind, he took note of those words with a steel focus. Zayne remembered his dad’s stories quite well. Right before he met her, during the phase where he was just starting to get his obsession with the Loom, all that his dad wanted to talk about were the ancient times. Before the Great Houses, even before the first Rift, thousands of years ago the earliest humans had experienced something like what they did. Back then, the Celestials apparently spent a lot more time with humans, so they knew a lot more about Strands, and how the Virtues worked. So, they managed to reach levels of power that the Dawnforged could barely dream of. Until disaster struck, or something like that.

  And here he was, speaking to someone that claimed to be from a few hundred years after that time. Even though he had never really been that into history, Zayne couldn’t help but be interested. But wait, if Cenebrous realty was from that time, then how was he able to understand him?

  Definitely something to do with the inheritance, he thought darkly as he looked at the words that he had tried not to think too hardly of. No doubt existed in his head that the champions that the shrine was talking about were him and the old man. This guy as well, apparently. Although it was strange that he had started in chains.

  Mustering his resolve, Zayne finally gave in, “Yeah, I’ll help you.”

  “Took you long enough."

  “Not really helping with your attitude.” he smirked at the nervous yelp, before trying to find the entrance into the altar.

  Staff still in his hand, Zayne looked at the pair of doors in his way that were already tilted open, assuring himself that he was not about to be attacked as he went inside.

  And… he was safe. If not a little stunned.

  For the young, handsome man that was called Cenebrous was indeed chained next to a draping plaster of finery, jewels, and gold, wearing the same dirty leather cloth, with a pair of keys inside a glass canister that was just out of reach. One enormous stone, that resembled wafered marble lit up the entire room with its swirling sheen. But even though Cenebrous looked like one of those movie stars that made millions of credits, with glossy hair and a winning smile, there was just one taint that marred his good looks.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  A dark blue taint in the form of searing wings emblazoned right onto his right cheek. It didn’t take a detective to work out what was wrong with him.

  “Oh good, you are human.” Cenebrous joked, but he could see the nervousness squirming at Zayne’s glare, “Ah… I know what you want to know, but-”

  In perhaps what was a rash decision, Zayne exposed his own Brand, which shut Cenebrous up immediately.

  “You possess the Mark of Destiny as well!”

  Zayne again disguised his emotions, as he grabbed the key, “Listen, I’ve got plenty more questions to ask you, but they can wait. You need to understand the situation right now.”

  As he reached into free Cenebrous, he paused when he noticed a weapon propped up against the chains. A long, flourishing broadsword, that was painted the same streak of blue that was on his cheek.

  “This your sword?” he seized the hilt at the hesitant nod, and ignored the noise of protest, “How good are you at using it?”

  He appeared sheepish, “Ah, well. I am still receiving lessons. But that is why you are here, are you not? You must have an idea on how to take me back.”

  Zayne didn’t know exactly how to break the news, but he couldn’t be asked to soften the blow.

  “We’re inside some sort of living creature that looks like it wants to digest us.” he spoke bluntly, watching Cenebrous’s face shift into horror, “I have no idea how to get out, but I’m guessing you want to get your hands on the treasure at the end?”

  He chuckled darkly.

  “You’ve got plenty of competition.”

  At this rate, there were more ‘champions’ trapped inside this unholy place, maybe even hundreds. If this guy really was from thousands of years ago, then who knew how many people there were? A small piece of what was going on was slowly starting to make sense for him.

  Finally freeing the handsome young prisoner, Zayne helped him to his feet, feeling unusual as he did so. Unlike the old man, Cenebrous felt like an ally he could trust. Or at least not worry about. The problem was, now that he somewhat understood, there was a chance that only one person could complete the trial and earn the Inheritance. If it wasn’t just a death sentence.

  Then he would have no choice but to kill the guy in cold blood.

  For his part, Cenebrous looked pretty scared now that he knew the truth, trust staining his face, unaware that his new friend was already contemplating his murder.

  “Oh… Scabbards forgive me! Alright, looks like we’ll be stuck together for a little while. Do not worry, my friend, I’ve got plenty of stories to tell you while we wait.” he chuckled nervously.

  “You aren’t planning on staying here, are you?”

  Instead of receiving a handsome hero, it was clear he had gained a coward instead.

  “My friend, do you not know what we entered? I did not believe it all this time, believing it to be a simple mind hex, but if you are telling the truth, then this might really be it.”

  Zayne waited, “And that is…”

  “An Inheritance.”

  Cenebrous tried to speak mystically, but failed. I was actually hoping for some answers. Zayne had to resist the urge to facepalm, having had enough, tossing him the sword.

  “I got what I came for. You can come with me, or wait here until something comes to kill you.”

  He took one last good look around the altar, sourly passing over the enormous glowing stone and wealth that he would not be able to carry with him, before holding up his dim lantern and trudging back into the bleak blackness.

  It did not take long for the coward to cave in and join him. Cenebrous took in the surroundings with a pale gulp, as he took in the horror for himself, but said nothing. Squinting past the tower, dead silence reigned as Zayne struggled to make anything out, moving step after step closer to the teetering edge.

  At any moment, a phantom could have emerged and slaughtered both of them with ease. His heart hammered, braced for the quick death the whispering quiet promised. But nothing came.

  It took a second for Zayne to realise how unusual that was.

  “It’s too quiet!” he hissed.

  “What. Do. You. Mean.”

  The lantern eventually illuminated the other end, and both of them froze.

  In front of them was what looked like a veil of translucent goo, that wrapped around the edge of the island the altar was perched on like steaming, dripping glue. And it was bulging. Behind the veil, what looked like a surface stained entirely in pores, opening and closing, bleeding a colourless liquid that churned against the edge.

  One broke.

  Without looking back, they knew what to do.

  Sprinting at full force, Zayne felt his parched throat tighten as they sprinted all the way onto the seething black mass. It snapped at their legs, and unprepared, Cenebrous tumbled straight into its grasp.

  “You idiot!” Zayne tried to grab at him, dropping the beaten staff, but his skinny frame miserably failed, falling with him instead.

  Fu-

  His entire body was smothered by the soft, mushy tide, that hungrily smothered its hold around them. It was disgusting. Barely keeping his head free, Zayne struggled with all his might, but it was all helpless. All he could do was keeping the lantern and his head out of the swarming grip, and the noise of breaking pores only echoed his merciless fate. A steel sword flashed next to him, cutting and slicing, but Cenebrous was not about to be much help either.

  Looking at the dying light that was about to be crushed, he shook his head. There had to be something he could do! Some way! Death would not claim him this easily.

  An abrupt idea emerged into his head, so idiotic that it would have been better to just risk death, but he didn’t hesitate. Shoving with the flow of the shifting mass, Zayne held his breath as he was pulled under, using his pitiful strength to bring his spare finger and bash open the lantern. Pain splintered, bringing his focus back against the raging tide, but he ignored it, releasing the open flame.

  It landed right onto an open crag, and the entire corridor screeched.

  A chain reaction took place at that very moment. Flames burst and spread, white hot and searing with fury, devouring the pulpy flesh with a blaze that swept with the speed of the wind.

  Zayne found himself free, seizing the staff, and dragged Cenebrous up with him, weaving through with all the desperation that they could muster. A loud thunder echoed, and liquid spilled over the towering flames.

  Unable to outpace the deluge, the distance that had seemed so agonisingly far became mere minutes before they reached the cell.

  The old man watched them come back, panting and soaked, soft gaping grin plastered like mould over his face. Underneath them, the mushy ground swallowed up the liquid, and hardened into grimy, brittle floor, casting the corridor back into a darkness lit up by something so faint that it was imperceptible.

  A deep, shuddering thump returned in a welcoming ripple.