by N Felts
expands, revealing multiple doorways in what is soon revealed to be a maze of chambers within the dank, moist expansion of brick and grime.
“What in Termina is this place?” Cale mumbles to himself.
“Remember when we learned about discernment?” Geist starts, ready to leave at any time. “What possessed you to dive into here? Especially during a Garo attack. One of those rag-wearing backstabbers could have followed us down here you know?”
“We are legion. We watch from every shadow, but we are not without our own form of honor. What would you know of valor, child?” Garo grumbles, always ready to put his two rupees in.
“Listen to you,” Cale chuckles, thoroughly amused. “I never imagined you would be the voice of reason on one of these little excursions,” he admits, lowering his blade and considering their options. “Do you think Grahn will try to use the reavers to help repel the attack?”
“Hard to say,” Geist shrugs, crossing his arms. “I don’t know the man. If he’s half the tactician my greatfather is he would send them into the residential districts to stand guard.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Cale agrees, glancing around once more. “More importantly, what’s going on down here?” He asks wearing a face of disgust, pointing to rows of shackles hanging from a nearby wall. Overhead, a massive log has been fashioned into some manner of torture device, large spikes spiraling around its form with a mechanism to raise and lower in on either side. Echoing around several corners, a much louder and clearer shriek jolts the pair of explorers upright, each of them seemingly ready to depart at this point. Raising his arm-blade in the direction they entered, Cale finds the creature they chased into the well barreling toward them. A quick flick of Geist’s wrist hits the ghoul in the shoulder with a sphere, but it doesn’t miss a step, nearly upon them with its eccentric pace.
“Take—“ Cale starts, throwing another fireball. Effortlessly the zombie scoops an arm through the water, extinguishing the projectile and continuing forward. “That,” he concludes with diminished enthusiasm.
“Let’s move,” Geist announces, dashing through a nearby door. His partner follows suit as they proceed deeper into the unknown. More nearby screams sound, the duo pushed to run even faster into the darkness, their bearings leaving them when another cloth-wrapped monster appears. Geist throws an orb forward as often as he is able, projecting a faint amount of light on the path ahead as the number of angry zombies continues to grow. A dead-end forces them to backtrack briefly, the dozens of white creatures shambling toward them with their dead eyes locked on the pair of trespassers. A hallway to their left looks like salvation, but just as they turn the corner, a deafening scream paralyses them both. A cold sweat beads over Geist’s lips and down his neck as the ghouls concave around them, their horrible shrieks gradually become discernable words while they continue to close in.
“Eeeeeverything! You haveeee takeeeeeen, eveeerything!”
“Takeeeeen!”
“Froooom us! You haaave!”
“We thiiiiirst! Weeee huuuunger!”
“You haaaaave!”
“Eveeeeeerything!”
“We neeeeed someeeething!”
“You will leeeeeave it!”
“Leeeeeave it!” They continually scream, inching closer to exert their demands.
“Geist!” Cale manages to exclaim, fighting to will his muscles to cooperate. Barely able to twitch his arm himself, Geist cannot form a plan with the overwhelming cries cascading over him. A groan of exertion escapes his lips as he manages to take an awkward step forward, nearly toppling over with the effort. Seconds later, one of the creatures latches onto his outstretched wrist, pulling him closer to its grotesque, emotionless visage.
“Leeeeeeave it!” It shrieks into his face, frigid air caressing Geist’s cheek as the zombie languidly paws his form, drawing even closer.
“My brethren,” Garo beams, enjoying the spectacle too much to remain silent. “Cleanse these blasphemers in the name of their grace!”
“Geist!” Cale shouts, slicing one of the creatures in a fit of rage, but ultimately succumbing to the same fate.
“Garo!” Geist cries, completely out of options. “Help!”
“Hahahahahaha!” Garo bellows, reveling in his enemy’s desperation.
“Please!” He begs, hopelessly attempting to appeal to the vengeful spirit. “You know now. We’re not all like them!” Seconds pass, seeming like an eternity to the reaver, before Garo responds.
“Release me,” he commands, his tone drastically dialing down. Completely out of options, Geist struggles to free the bottle from his hip as he is slowly tackled from behind. Another groan of exertion sounds as he launches the glass container as hard as he is able. A shatter of glass seems to stop time itself, and a moment later, the horde of ghouls piling upon the duo gradually climb to their feet before slowly meandering back into the darkness.
“What the—“ Cale blurts out, sprawling back to his feet and testing his returning motor functions. “What happened?”
“You know now. What you have done. The atrocities your people have committed,” Garo growls, his freed spirit hovering over the grateful survivors. Cale trips into a seated position, gawking upward in shock while Geist stands firm and listens. “Your hearts are pure, but they will yield to the same corruption. It is your nature. I cannot forgive you,” he explains, his tone slowly growing less severe. “Only they can. Should you seek their grace, in time, your tortured soul may yet find it.”
“Thank you,” Geist conveys, nodding his head respectfully.
“Wh—“ Cale stammers, his eyes darting between his friend, and the intimidating spirit.
“We will always hunt you, Ikanian,” Garo warns, his jagged eyes glowing brightly, illuminating the entire area with their unnatural green hue. “Ikana will fall. It is destined. I leave you to ponder your fate with what little time remains. Do not mistake my intent as kindness.”
“I understand,” Geist responds, exhaling a ragged sigh.
“No,” Garo sighs, his presence dipping backward and beginning to fade. “You never will.” With that, the specter fades away, and the pair are left in darkness once again.
Answers
“What?” Cale inquires, holding his conjured weapon overhead. The meager amount of light reveals their immediate surroundings, and his hopelessly confused expression. “How?”
“Garo saved us,” Geist shrugs, pointing to the destroyed bottle lying nearby.
“But,” Cale retorts, mashing his eyes shut as he fails to understand. “He hates you.”
“Yes,” he chuckles, beginning to look for the way out. “But he didn’t want to kill us originally. He wanted to teach us. In a way, he thought he was going to save us from all this.”
“Okay, that does it,” Cale declares, following his friend around a corner and waving his arms arbitrarily. “The cuccos are out of the pin. You’ve lost your mind.”
“Say what you want, it doesn’t change the fact that we’d be zombie chow right now if he hadn’t called them off,” he pauses, realizing the dozens of tormented creatures were Subrosians. Immigrants, mothers, traders, they were surely the first to be rounded up, and subsequently interrogated. The Ikanian army has been obsessively trying to uncover the location of their homeland, and the reaver can only ponder with intense dread whether or not the king was aware of what went on in this place, and if any of the unfortunate souls talked.
“I feel like there’s a lot you’re not telling me,” Cale points out, illuminating another door.
“All in due time, my friend,” he nods as a ladder leading out of the depressing environment is revealed. “Finally.” An icy wind spirals down the shaft leading back to the surface, the duo eventually emerging behind a clandestine fountain in the castle courtyard. The fight continues to rage on the other side of the wall, but it seems the inner sanctum of the royal district has remained untouched for the time
being.
“Now’s our chance,” Cale smiles, turning his palms over. “We could walk right in and see the king. Who’s going to stop us?”
“What?” Geist responds disapprovingly, though he has no legitimate argument to counter the idea. “What are we going to tell him he doesn’t already know?”
“It’s not what we’re going to tell him,” Cale smirks, socking his friend on the shoulder and dashing toward the nearest doorway. With a minimal amount of effort, he presses against the huge, round door, causing it to roll into a groove in the adjacent wall. “Fancy,” he chuckles, carefully proceeding into the massive castle. An immense chamber of extravagant décor lies beyond the foyer, more hallways and doors leading in every direction. The path forward quickly becomes apparent, the largest path undoubtedly leading to the King’s chambers. The duo move forward, and soon heightened voices are heard emanating from the throne room. As the reavers cautiously draw closer, a heated argument becomes audible.
“You lie!” The King shouts, his temper clearly gone. “Are you even capable of honesty?” Pressing their backs to either side of the entrance, the eavesdroppers peer into the dim room to find a figure in heavy robes, his face obfuscated by a hood. Standing casually before the throne, the man does not seem to care about the king’s temperament. Thick shades have been draped over the windows lining the room, the resulting atmosphere