Histories of the Realm: The Book of the Damned Itself 5.0

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Chapter 4

She has healed my wounds as I cried out in agony, and I am thankful to her. I will soon explain her. Forgive me the bloodstained parchment on which this is written.
As I descended into the vast white pit, my blackened arm began to burn and tingle as if stricken by fire ants. A curse was my arm on the mortal plane, a blessing it is now.
Yes, the blackened limb of mine from the cursed blood of the Netherealm frothed and broiled with power, and my muscles on that limb became enlarged like great Toulind himself. I fell from a great height indeed, and, with arm outstretched and myself falling facing earthbound, I put what little hope I had left into that arm.
I slammed into the white stone with smashing force, but held fast. My accursed arm became entrenched in the stone as deep as my shoulder, but, to my amazement, bore no injury, and no scar, even still.
Shocked, amazed as I was, I remained fearful of the Draixla. Amazingly, I furled my arm into a flex, and uprooted more stone in the process, taken aback to see it coming forth unscathed. A quick rotation of the head around me showed that this new imprisonment was ancient and deadly. I was surrounded by the stone of demon construct, alone in the blazing white sanctuary. Wherefrom the light dwelt that made the stone glitter with brilliance is still mystery to me.
Runes were upon the stones of this place, in script indecipherable by my eyes, the eyes of man. I bolted under one such rune carving, and it immediately turned into a corner. It led up and twisted forward oddly, because there were no stairs. I hurried and hurried as if death followed me close, which it might have. I was led to a large balcony with a lone bridge opening above a great expanse. I was reasonably discouraged, be it the harrowing width of the bridge or the immense drop-off, but things of that nature have little effect on me now. I continued my flight across it, and caught glimpse of what lie below.
It appeared as a great serpent lie beneath, sleeping soundly. I could not gaze a head or tail, but rather just the blinding sheen of coils of skin, folded upon one another in what looked to me like slumber. To me, it was distinctly serpentine. I pressed on with new fear at the forefront of my thought.
I wound my way up the Runestone Labyrinth, as I now refer to it as, faster and faster, for my fear took over me. My legs moved as fast as they could up the stair-less spirals, the narrow corridors, and the strangely fashioned intersections.
I walked then, for my fear had subsided and I was panting heavily. I let my hand run along the smooth white wall, and for a moment lost myself in thought of the mortal realm. Things like the beauty of a woman, the comfort found in soft grass, the sound of running water…
I halted when I found myself at the edge of a sheer precipice. I looked about my surroundings. Upon the ceiling, along the walls, and far below, there were entrances to tunnels, each one with different combinations of runes above them. If they were intended for passage, the passage was not for mortal man.
A sudden terror gripped me and I began my flight once more, taking the precipice to the sharp left, for an inset ran along the wall, leading up to the highest tunnel. A surprising gust of wind rattled my nerves for a moment, and then passed, but my nerves stayed on the edge of a sword.
A disparaging cold shuddered over me, for in the next moments, I was surrounded by the living dead. Souls of the damned flooded the tunnel I was climbing, rushing ephemerally past me, above me, through me. They are shaded beryl, faceless and nameless entities of former selves, roaring down into the Runestone Labyrinth constantly, although the ways they enter are many.
It was like a river of dead, flowing on all sides of me and through me. And just like clear water compared to clear water, each soul was indistinguishable from one another. In death, we all become one.
The souls are hard to describe, but I shall try my best. They are opaque, and indeed, quite like water, blurry and glossy and green as the surface of a winded lake.
Suddenly I was beckoned away, cast about. The runes became lit with a pale yellow fire and the winds rushing from the Those Above know where blasted me through their tunnels. The stones began to sing a mournful lament, howling with high-pitched cacophony. I was flung, beaten badly, slammed into stone after stone, flying mid air through the tunnels and stretches. This subject is but one, out of an infinite category of memories that I retain that pains my body to reminisce about. The feeling of having every bone shattered and every inch of my body in bruises makes me wince with the remembrance of the agony. I will not write of it much.
Being tossed about like a rag doll, and crashing into wall after wall, I was disoriented surely, but even so and not knowing my whereabouts, the directions seemed random; but with my last waking thought I saw the bright crimson red of day before all was black, and I counted myself lost.
I awakened what I figure to be a long time later. My whole body ached. To move was to be tortured, as if the ever present scalding hot air and presiding foul stench of it was not enough to hinder me already. A long time passed, in which I drifted in and out of blackness.
I believe I have been robbed of dreams here, for I cannot recall even one.
I awakened. I rolled onto my back. The twinkling starts gleamed down upon me. I swore and gasped upon the harsh air that swearing so required.
I somehow gathered the strength to climb to my feet. I trudged on, not knowing anything about where I was at or anything. I remember my mind being blank, my eyes unblinking. The ice was no longer under my feet. The ground I walked became a fine homogeneous blend of grayish gravel and the blood sand. Things that could have been small plants tufted into balls of prickly bristles, of which I avoided. I call them Weedsnares.
As my conscious mind drifted more to the brink of insanity, I came upon a field littered with dead bodies––those of demons. Some demon-kind I deemed recognizable, some were of a caste I have not yet witnessed, yet others were too mauled and unidentifiable for even I, who had slain my hundreds.
As I crossed the littered field, I came to a lee in some crag orange stone. I exhaled the stale stench of dead breath that had contaminated my soul, and looking back behind my shoulder, felt inexplicable remorse for the slaughtered demons.
I stumbled on some fang-like stalagmites jutting out of the cave, coughing as I did so; the air that funneled from the mouth of the entrance was harsh. Some rocks I kicked skittered and made a splashing noise. Water!
I looked up. That’s when I saw her. It was the most vivid thing I have ever experienced.
She slumped against the cave wall. Her clothing was in tatters, her rags ripped and torn, strewn across her body showing many patches of beautiful, fair skin. She was not covered much either, her whole upper body was mostly exposed, except for her breasts and up to the neck. And even that was in tatters as well, ripped and showing her skin, the color of pure ivory.
Her bare legs stretched out before her, a thing of cold death between her knees. The hilt was inclined so that the blade contrasted with her, running at a ninety degree angle against her with the blade’s point above her shoulder, resting on the cave wall as well.
She looked up at me. A lock of her blood flecked hair fell in front of her face, between her eyes. I felt a darkness suddenly grip me; like that feeling one receives when in a sinking boat.
Her eyes captured me and threw me into an empty well where I plummeted endlessly. In her eyes was a luster from the cave entrance mingled with the silhouette cast by me standing in front of her, creating duotone shininess across her irises. They were indigo, splayed with black.
The seductive vibe I got from her was incredibly intense, she perpetually radiated with a dark voluptuousness, coupled with natural physical beauty. I froze as a buck upon sighting the arrow intended to land between the eyes.
“Give me one good reason not to kill you so fast that you don’t even have the time to think a single thought before I finish this sentence.”
I began to think a thought.
An icy cold pressed against my throat. I blinked. Her face was inches from mine. “I…did you…” The blade scratched against my throat which moved whilst I spoke. I was completely and utterly amazed, that this thing of beauty lie in wait amongst such calamity, that another human was in this Netherealm, and that I was no longer alone. I fainted, and when I awoke, I was in the cave with her, as I am now…but I fear we may be leaving soon, and my writings will have to wait. Many questions I had for her, and many answers had she. These I will go into upon my next entry.