Chapter 28: Untitled Chapter [1]

  The golden thread pulsed too brightly for Egwene's liking, forcing her into a desperate sprint toward the natural crack in the wall. Each drawn breaeth rasped in her chest as her boots slapped the sodden ground, sending spatters up her calves. The thread's pulsing flares cast glints like sunlight across the torrential downpour, transforming familiar green foliage into a twisted, writhing landscape veiled in strangeness.

  The rain intensified without warning, the wind thrashing in every direction without a sound. She spared no glance behind, but prayed her pursuers were beset in the unearthly ground and the storm. Ahead, the rough stone jaws split just enough to show a way going down into the dark, its mouth shrouded in veils of darkness, rain, and creeping vines.

  With every desperate lunge, the green barrier projected from her outstretched mechanical arm cast a faint verdant glow across the rain-slick world. Egwene silently begged the rain to stop striking the beam—each droplet sparked into a bright green light as it passed through, distorting and fracturing the layer of light. Now and then, she caught sight of mirror-like shatters in the green—like shards of broken glass suspended in space—fractures that made the familiar world behave like an abnormality. She wove carefully, frightfully vexed that a single misstep might fling her into some godforsaken nowhere.

  Yet even that concerned her less than how each sparkling flare of green sent electric jolts of disquietude through her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs. The metallic taste of fear coated her tongue.

  'Tharn this light!' she grumbled inwardly, feeling exposed and vulnerable. The conspicuous display might as well have been a signal fire blazing across the open field, practically proclaiming her whereabouts to every scoundrel hunting her through the storm.

  With a loud thud, her feet halted at the threshold of the crevice—barely visible, tucked behind rain-slick stone and vines trailing like veins down the wall. Her fingers tightened instinctively around Leos, while the mechanical arm grafted to her flesh hummed with its familiar discomfort. The contours of the rock face stirred a flicker of memory—once sharp as blades, now softened by centuries of wind, rain, time's quiet erosion

  A quick thought flitted through her mind—'What if some foul thing has made its lair in this hole?' Her jaw grew tight, and her hand gripped fast. 'No matter. There is naught else to be done. If aught waits within, I shall let it drown in my blood until it perishes—come what may.'

  Egwene cast her gaze down upon her son—his visage, once like a rose, was now wan and pale as alabaster, the bones of his cheeks jutting sharply beneath skin so thin it seemed almost translucent. Her eyes twitched, most grievously disturbed.

  A faint green glow bathed him in alien colors, warping his features into something difficult, inhuman yet human. It cast a sickly hue over his frail form. Even the course of his veins and sinew showed through, and his clenched lips could not conceal the eerie, unnatural glimpse of his teeth. His eyes stared wide, mirroring the horror in her own—as though he had seen his reflection in her face and understood.

  Whatever sensation gripped his body, it was not of this world. The sight struck Egwene’s heart like a knife, dragging it down into the hollow of her chest.

  But she swallowed that fear—her fear—burying it beneath a smile most strained, a mask meant to soothe the slow dread etching itself into his young face. She drew him close and kissed his cheek.

  "Nay, now…" she whispered between ragged breaths. "Just a few more paces, my sweetling… Just a little further… I need you to hold your strength a little longer."

  "I am so cold…" He murmured, shivering as he clutched his shoulder—until a soft cough escaped his lips, followed by a low groan.

  Egwene's face twisted as her breath caught. She held Leos closer, the warmth fading where their skin touched. She patted his back gently. "Nay, worry not, my sweetling. We're almost there."

  Even before her words had fully left her lips, she moved forward, her steps a silent press against the wet stone. The child nestled in her arms, she eased through the thick curtains of vines with caution. The passage was steeped in heavy darkness, yet blindingly bright where the green projection beamed across the jagged surfaces of the path. The projected wall of light did little to help—its ghostly film masked everything, making the path ahead more obscure than darkness itself.

  Then—snap—the sound of rain crashed back into existence behind her, as if reality had finally caught up to a fixed state. Egwene's heart pounded. The sound of the familiar world drew a shaky exhale of relief. Her gaze snapped to her outstretched mechanical arm as she pressed onward. A tremor—a muscular spasm—rippled beneath her skin, pulsing like a living thing from bone to flesh, and into the mechanical limb. A sensation devoid of words yet pregnant with unspoken meaning.

  The arm obeyed. A low hum through it, slowly receding as if acknowledging a silent command. Egwene raised a brow, a fleeting thought brushing her mind: 'Now it works—when it couldn't before.'

  The wall of green light fractured in the air. The beam that had pierced through her thick sleeves and projected the glowing shimmer began to flicker—then faded, like a lantern being gently dimmed to sleep.

  And darkness returned—embracing everything out of sight.

  "Hold tightly," she urged, adjusting her grip beneath her son's legs.

  "Mhm," came a weak nod and barely audible murmur.

  With her metallic hand freed and stretched forward, her fingers came together in a snap—or tried to, slipping past each other in the slick moisture. Even so, the gesture sufficed. A cold sensation crawled down her flesh arm, liquid white light flowing from her shoulder to her metallic fingertips before vanishing. Then, without warning, a spark flickered above her open palm—then burst into flame.

  A fire, no larger than a clenched hand, did manifest itself, wavering inches above her palm. Its thin warmth and faint gleam did little to fight the darkness. 'The magic key hath failed,' thought Egwene, her gaze seeking the corridor beyond. 'Yet this shall serve…'

  Deeper into the passage, the storm's roar slowly faded, replaced by the hollow echo of her footsteps and the eerie drip of water in the darkness. Egwene knew only one path should lie ahead—but centuries had passed since her last visit. Creatures could have marked these as theirs, perhaps even reshaped this once-familiar cave. Though, she prayed silently to the good lords that no monsters had found their way here. A fight only would waste precious time.

  Her next step sent a spike of pain lancing through her leg. "Hruk," she hissed through clenched teeth, stumbling to a halt.

  Leos stirred, his breath faint with concern. "Mother?"

  Egwene forced a smile as she turned her face toward him. "Speak low, we near our destination."

  “To where?”

  Her expression softened—then shattered. His son's face was no longer human, merely a grotesque layering of flesh. Gone was the familiar handsome—the beloved features, the light she knew, were gone. A spasm of revulsion contorted her face, tears pricked behind her eyelids, but she clamped her lips shut, holding the tremor in her breath. Without a reply, she surged forward, her pace escalating towards a brisk pace. Each step brought a fresh stab of pain from her wounds; she felt the crystal digging deeper, but she endured, refusing to succumb to despair.

  With several long strides, the rough, uneven cave floor gave way to a surprisingly smooth, paved surface. Familiar beneath her feet despite the passage of years, the even ground allowed her to lengthen her stride and increase her pace. Soon, the rough-hewn walls also shifted, ascending into a profound darkness where the reach of her small flame could not light.

  Then, an unnatural gust, sharp and icy, assailed her skin, sending shivers down her spine. The sudden, biting cold, like the heart of winter, screamed of their nearness to the objective. But the urgency of time pushed her forward, faster and faster, until the corridor opened into a huge chamber. Without stopping, Egwene darted ahead.

  As she rushed forward, the chamber gradually emerged from darkness—towering walls carved with intricate patterns that gave them a ragged, otherworldly appearance.

  At the chamber's end stood a massive stone portrait, an ancient relic unchanged since her earliest memory. The engraved figure protruded from the wall: a humanoid form draped in heavy robes that obscured its features. Her eyes were drawn to the stark gash that bisected the frame, from the neck across to the opposite edge—precise, brutally clean severance.

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  "Work now, I implore the good lords, grant it may serve, nay, thou art bound to work. 'Tis built for this very hour," her breath softened, her voice falling to a hushed entreaty.

  Her tattered tunic clung to her skin, uncomfortably damp with dripping water. The cold, humid air pressed against her with an unnatural stickiness. As she entered the chamber hall, a sudden green light emanated from beneath her feet, its glow spreading across the floor like liquid light on the surface, up the walls, and into the distant ceiling, as if the ancient structure itself responded to her presence.

  Egwene flinched yet didn't stop. Instead, a smile crept across her face. 'Blessed heavens… it works,' she thought, exhaling a sharp breath of relief..

  The green light flowed through the wall's etched patterns, but her attention fixed below the center of the portrait where the surface of stone began to move. Sections dematerialized in static bursts of green lightning, transforming into geometric shapes. With each step closer, the shapes multiplied, alien and varied, until they coalesced into a familiar terminal pad before her.

  Egwene extinguished her flame and frantically tapped the black screen. It awakened with a green glow, geometric shapes dancing across its display.

  Impatiently, she tapped repeatedly, wlel knowing it would not quicken the device. 'Come now. Begin. Begin,' she thought, teeth clenched.

  As if heeding her command, multiple colored light shot upward from the geometric shapes, manifesting a holographic monitor above the screen. Before the device's name could fully materialize, Egwene plunged her fingers into the holographic display, rapidly drawing characters with four metallic fingers, individually controlled to form the command: [Switch into sarcophagus room, operating mode]

  As her fingers left the holographic monitor, the letters stretched and deformed—bubbling away as if sinking into its depths. Egwene stepped back as the room shook violently, the sound of shattering rock echoing through the chamber. The noise would surely alert their pursuers—this awakening of ancient machinery would shake the entire island. But she didn't care. They were too close to their goal now, and no one could stop them.

  Her tired eyes fell on the portrait behind the holographic display—that familiar figure whose face remained unknown even through the years until his disappearance. Perhaps he never had a face at all, Egwene thought, drawing in a determined breath. She knew what she had to do, even if it meant breaking an old promise.

  “Esy2lymn… Alas, it seemeth destiny held no favour for us—never writ in the forgotten true light. You came not—a thousand years, nay, many more, my sanity can no longer linger." Egwene's regret choked her utterance as she embraced Leos with greater force. "The ages have turned their face. The future we did foresee—the time we might have held as power in our grasp. That future is now lost to my sight. Forgive me—but thy earthly vessel shall serve my new purpose."

  The statue remained silent, as stone should. Yet somehow her body felt lighter. She took one last look at the face hidden in the shadows of its hood before turning to face a room transformed.

  Devices now lined the walls, their terminals alive with floating green holographic monitors. New light streamed from floor to ceiling, banishing the darkness. As she stepped forward, pain shock through her limbs—the wound in her side felt as if it had ripped open, hot blood seeping through her clothes. Egwene's face twisted, but she hugged her son tighter, drawing strength from his presence.

  ‘A step further… Egwene.’

  Her gaze fixed on the device at the room's center: the sarcophagus, no taller than her waist, lay dormant. White and coffin-shaped, it remained exactly as she remembered, untouched by time. A wave of revulsion hit her at the thought of placing her son inside, but she forced it down as she gently laid Leos on its surface.

  "Mo… mother?" Leos's breath hitched between words, his raw hands groping the air blindly upward. "Where... are you? My eyes see nothing but darkness… Has Death claimed me?"

  "I am here, Leos." She caught his seeking flesh hands in hers.

  "Mother," Tears streaked down from the jutted cheekbones. "Where are youuu. My own is failing to reach my ears… Mama."

  The words stabbed through Egwene's heart like knives, stealing her breath despite her gasping mouth. "Le-Leos..." She pressed his hand for the last. "Hold fast. This pain shall pass swiftly. Peace shall return to your mind, forever."

  Egwene gripped the sarcophagus's edges, its surface cold against her burning skin. Her legs trembled, barely supporting her as she staggered to the head of the device. Kneeling beside it, her fingers, still shaking, found a circular indentation. Ignoring the fierce protests of her body, she plunged a finger into the hollow and withdrew a long tube. "HIGCK."

  Pain muffled the world around her, Leos's cries growing distant. 'This crystal... It's... consuming my entirety from within,' she thought as numbness crept across her skin.

  With gritted teeth, she brought the tube's opening to her trembling hands, stretching the elastic wider. It gave easily under her touch. Carefully, she encircled Leos's head with it. The circular end expanded too much initially, causing a jolt of fear to spike through her before it snapped back, conforming perfectly to his skull.

  Leos's pained groans softened, his frantic flailing ceased, though his head still lolled weakly from side to side. "Leos... my son," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she levered herself up using the coffin's edge.

  Every second counted. Lifting her right hand, she strained to see through her blurring vision, the black tattoos on her wrist barely visible. Her metallic hand clamped down, and she pulled. A searing glow erupted from her right wrist, the flesh contorting like viscous white liquid, bulging at its base while thinning where she exerted force, until it solidified into a black sword etched with crimson lettering along its sharp edge.

  The athame's dark surface mirrored the chamber's green luminescence. Her entire right hand was gone, now part of the weapon, but that sacrifice held no weight in this desperate moment. With a visible tremor, she carefully aligned the blade over the center of Leos's still chest.

  Hot tears welled, blurring her sight and carving tracks down her cheeks to her trembling chin. Her resolve flickered like a dying flame, caught between desperation and despair, a relentless ebb and flow of doubt. Her pulse hammered in her temples, a deafening counterpoint to her shallow, ragged breaths.

  At last, the words tore free from her throat.

  "Leos… Thou remainest the last of our name. Carry the blood. Carry the Spell. Bear the Eternity of Time. Thou art charged to survive, my son."

  The raw plea tightened her grip, a fresh wave of fierce determination washing over her. Then, came the ancient words, a language swallowed by the ages and unknown to the modern world, resonated in the chamber: "Command. Initiate consciousness transfer. From External tube one to Sarcophagus."

  These were the words she had held onto for so long—words intended for a different person. The moment their carefully laid plans had unravled was a painful blur. Their dream, their very essence—gone, reduced to nothing. Futile thoughts and the sting of what might have been flooded her consciousness. She allowed the tears to veil her sight—she didn't want to see what came next.

  Light pulsed along the tube in rhythmic waves, flowing from Leos into the sarcophagus. She waited, watching patiently. Her heart was a frantic, aching beat—more agonizing than any physical injury. Memories, sharp and insistent, attacked her. She thought she had fully accepted this fate, but past desires now fought fiercely to tear away her resolve. The moment was quiet, yet everything around her was screaming.

  A clear red and blue wave pulsed through the conduit, visible even through her watery vision. The transfer was complete—Leos resided within the sarcophagus, within that borrowed vessel.

  Holding her breath, she gathered every remaining ounce of strength and drove the sword down. The blade pierced her son's vacant body and plunged into the new vessel within the sarcophagus. She didn't need to confirm its path—this was not her first time.

  "Le an Amos, Le an Amos" she chanted, her voice thick with sorrow—like a wailing banshee. It stretched and echoed through every corner of the chamber, as if she stood alone in a cathedral. "Veiro Te, Amos ni Kani."

  An ominous light erupted from the red markings etched into the blade. Numbness crept through her metallic fingers, up her wrist, along her arm—seizing her shoulder, then her chest—until her entire body locked in place. She was paralyzed; the sword held her captive. A strange pull stirred deep within her. Vibration shook through her bones as her energy drained—bled from her. She felt her life ebbing into the blade, which blazed with a fierce, consuming red—the very shade of her hair.

  The flow stopped abruptly. Egwene crumpled to her knees, then toppled backward. A desperate urge to rise, to press a final kiss to Leos's flesh humanoid body, warred with her unresponsive limbs. But alas, her strength had vanished.

  She kicked weakly, a desperate attempt to right herself, but it was futile.

  Finally surrendering, she wiped her tear-streaked vision to see Leos clearly in her final moments. 'Caranas... I leave my birh child to you...' she prayed, watching the sword—now imbued with both her power and Leos's—fade into nothingness as the ritual of bestowal concluded. "Our flames… Will not be erased."

  But then, just as darkness threatened to claim her, the coffin pulsed with an intense green light that traced its intricate carvings. A sharp screech tore through the silence, followed by a rush of air as tendrils of smoke curled from its seams.

  Egwene's thoughts fractured. 'Awake? Already? That can't be… not this fast…'

  The sarcophagus lid jolted forward, then slid heavily aside, nudging Leos's empty shell before clattering lifelessly onto the stone floor.

  A prickle of wrongness, of something profoundly different, chilled Egwene. This presence emanating from the coffin was not Leos, her child. She yearned to move, to confirm her dread, to speak his name, but death's icy grip tightened with each weakening heartbeat.

  The figure within rose with unnatural grace, stretching their hands as if awakening were the most commonplace act. Short black hair shifted as their head turned, a slow survey of the chamber culminating in their gaze locking onto Egwene. Their eyes met—the awakened and the dying.

  Egwene stared into those alien eyes—black irises emblazoned with golden rhombuses at their centers…

  "An architect..." A final whisper escaped her lips before the encroaching darkness.

  Yet, just then, a whisper seemed to vibrate within her very being—a voice that cut through the fading awareness, speaking with an otherworldly clarity that bypassed her failing ears. "I am here for you."