Chapter 7: Something precious ahead

The winding halls seemed nigh eternal. Every step sent echoes bouncing through the winding web of paths. I’d been walking for hours, trying hallway after hallway, but they always led to a dead end. 

If I knew better, desperation would set in right about now, but I’d be damned before giving up. Escaping this place was the home stretch. I lost too much in this place to succumb to its cursed solitude. My humanity had been forever stained by murder, only to be partly stripped away by some otherworldly terror. 

But it wasn’t all bad – walking for hours on end. At least I had company. 

”Hey Sera,” I said. ”If you were an animal, what would you want to be?”

“Shut up,” she answered. 

“A cat, huh?” 

“I said shut up! Leave me be. Dismiss the accolade right this second.” 

“I mean, I’m not too surprised by the choice. Actually, I can kind of see it now that you mention it…”

She growled.

I smiled at the dagger hanging from a pale blue thread around my neck, and tied my fingers behind my head, “Me? I’d want to be a dragon.” 

“You are much too stupid to be a dragon.” 

I halted, the oil lamps flickered around me, “Dragons are real?” 

She snorted, “Of course they are. They have been around since the beginning of time itself. It is said that dragons ruled the lands alone at one point. Then mysteriously, they began to die out. Now, few remain. Their individual power is enough to deter entire factions, even divine figures dare not provoke them.” 

I nodded along with her description, “Sounds about right. Dragons are cool as shit. Where I come from, there’s this whole discussion about whether or not dragons have four legs, or stand on two hind legs. You know anything about that?” 

Sera laughed at me, “How preposterous! Dragons are just dragons. None look alike. Just like how humans have their peculiarities, so do they.”

“How come you know so much? I thought you were stuck in the chamber all your life,” I raised an eyebrow. 

She sighed, “When I was young, I spent a lot of time with a renowned alchemist. She told me all manner of stories about the world before the forgettance.”

I took note of the word. She wasn’t usually this talkative, about anything, “What happened to him?”

“He passed, of course. Just like the rest. Not many are ‘blessed’ with long lives,” there was a sharp edge to her words. 

My fingers traced the etchings engraved into the wall as I listened. Quite a few of the corridors had murals of some sort. Though not many stood up to the test of time as well as this one had. This one depicted a great battle, the details had been chafed off. The wall opposite of it was littered by small shrines of recycled metal. They looked patchwork bird houses with a small hole in the front. Wax-like candles produced small flames inside. They should have burned out long ago, but the wax didn’t wane, nor deplete. 

In the distance, the light darkened and seemed to come to a stop. 

“Another dead end?” I whispered dejectedly and marched onward.  

As I approached it became clear that an unassuming door of weathered wood was hidden under the cover of dark. Barked knots grew out of it, as if the door was still alive despite the terrible conditions in the dungeon. Then again, the dungeon was a mysterious place. 

I ran my hand across it. The rough bark felt nostalgic, it reminded me of the trees surrounding my little cabin back home. I closed my eyes and revelled in the sensation, it even had that tree-sap smell. 

I it a slight pull, expecting it to be locked just like the other doors had been. To my surprise, it opened without any resistance, or creaking complaints. With unhurried steps, I walked inside and let my gaze wander. 

The insides were just as mysterious as the door itself. Vials of dark liquid stood neatly ordered in bookshelves lining the walls of the small room. A wooden chandelier hanged from the ceiling, adorned with the same wax candles that sat neatly arranged in the recycled shrines outside. 

In the far end of the room, a mural depicting a fierce warrior towered above a pulpit. Her long crimson hair fluttered heroically in the wind, backed by a raging inferno. She held her sword held aloft, reflecting triumphant rays of sunlight. Unlike the painting of Seluvis, this one bore no name. 

I let out a whistle as I approached the wall, stopping just short of it by the pulpit. I turned to look at the door from the small platform. It gave a great view of the room, but there were no pews or believers to preach to. A book caked in dust and a thick crust of something rested on the pulpit. It was huge, much larger than any book I had ever seen. 

I took a breath, then blew on the book and suffered the consequences. Dust scattered throughout the room and into my airways. I waved the grey cloud away with a cough. Like the runes of the veil, I understood the ones covering the book without really knowing how or why. 

I flipped through the pages describing the painstaking method of extracting refined magic from those with acclaim – blessed. It described in harrowing detail how the blood-offerings were to be refined, just like Sera had told me a few days ago. 

A shiver ran down my spine. It hadn’t yet occurred to me, just how close I was to execution by a chemical shower. I turned the page with trembling hands. The next page explained how the toxic fumes carried refined particles of magic to be captured in a filter above the cauldron, then funnelled down into a vat where they were made into volatile liquids and portioned into something called vial ammunition. 

Funny how things turn out, I thought. I was supposed to be refined, yet here I stood, surrounded by the arsenal I was supposed to be part of.

I pulled out a shell from the nearest shelf. As far as bullets went, it was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. It had a brass tip and casing engraved with runes. In the middle of its body, translucent glass allowed me to see a bright liquid sloshing around inside. I gave it a flick, it thudded in response. Reinforced glass. 

The bright blue liquid rippled, revealing pieces of crimson glitter scattered inside. I sighed, it wasn’t at all how I thought refined magic would look. 

I put the shell back and continued the tour, then jerked to a halt as studied the shelves. The sheer beauty of it almost floored me. Light reflected from the shiny surface of the metallic can. A once colourful depiction peeled off the side, but stubbornly held itself stuck with one last piece of gluey paper. 

My mouth watered, I swallowed. There was no doubt about it. That was a can of food. 

Who in their right mind decided to store their packed lunch among a bunch of nefarious ammunition?! If I ever learned their name, I would name my first child after them. 

I grabbed the can and pried it open with my misericord. 

Although the insides looked like a mash of different colours covered with a thick layer of liquid, it looked more appealing than anything I’d ever seen. Slowly, I raised the can to my lips and let the vibrant juice drip into my mouth. 

The moment the first drop went down my throat, I threw myself at the fruits like a ravenous beast. It was gone in less than a moment. I closed my eyes and savoured every bit of the sweetness. I washed it down with the remainder of conserved juice. 

Satisfied and with a wide smile taped to my face, I wiped my mouth with my bare arm and leaned against the wall. Just far enough that I could see what was hidden behind the open door. There was something there.

I pulled myself out of the stupor and closed the door. A satchel was hanged to a small hook behind it. A brown leather satchel. I opened it with little interest, still revelling in the taste of the fruit-salad thing. 

My eyes shot open. “Thank you, God!” I shouted excitedly to the sky. Two more cans were neatly packed inside. 

“There is no God.” Sera grumbled. 

I clicked my tongue. 

The belt on the satchel was made out to be so long that it would drape against the floor if I wore it as it was now. I tightened it and placed it over my shoulder, letting it hang diagonally across my body. It fit well and stuck close to my body, not hindering my movements much. 

The runes were as unexciting as they could get, yet I was more than happy with the find.

Rudy's Satchel 

Rank: Lost 

Type: Broken

Description: A stylish, brown leather satchel. It belonged once to the apprentice of a famed alchemist. Now it is nothing more than a forgotten relic of a forgotten past.

Rudy it is, I thought, and hoped my firstborn would forgive me.  

“Know what any of these do?” I asked Sera and gestured at the ammunition lining the walls. 

“Not really,” she shrugged, helpful as ever. 

It couldn’t hurt to pack the satchel full anyway. It would weigh me down a little, it would sell for a fortune back home. If I ever got out of this fucking place.

I left the alchemist’s chamber with lighter steps than I’d entered. For the first time in who knew how long, I had food, honest to god food. It was a mystery how I survived on the hook without any, I just chalked it down to magic. But since getting down, my stomach had complained without rest. I had been able to suppress it with my hatred for the Jailor, but that had passed a night ago. In any case, my days of hunger were over – until the food ran out again. 

It took restraint to not finish it all in one go, but I had to be mindful of how I used it. If I rationed it, it could last me for a few days, enough to get out of the dungeon. And if push came to shove, I could just hold a Jailor barbecue in the infernal hallway, but I would much rather avoid it. 

Stooping that low would be hard to justify, even for me. 

I skipped back to the torture chamber. 

One, two, three, four hallways left. 

There was no point in asking Sera what she preferred. She lost that privilege after the run-in with the tentacle-freak in the safe. Instead, I chose the next hallway by decree of eeny, meeny, miny, mo.