The Colour of a Shadow
How long had it been? A few days? A whole week even? This - how much time had actually passed - they did not know. Out of the seven or so mercenaries and witch-hunters that had taken the contract, only three - perhaps unlucky – men now remained. "Heroes" some would call them, though first they would have to return from their task victorious in order to gain that title to begin with. As more uncounted time passed, it became seemingly less and less likely that they would ever return at all, never mind with victory in hand.
The three that now remained, grew dangerously low on supplies with each passing hour. It felt, to them, as though a whole month had already abandoned them since their descent into the darkness of an old and seemingly abandoned castle. They knew of course, that this place was far from abandoned, but few suspected such horror awaited their arrival within. Two of the hunters had prepared specifically for a vampire of some stronger kind: perhaps an Oggressor, Dra'lonais, or even a Malgar if they were particularly unlucky. They had read the contract thoroughly and while it seemed odd for a vampire to choose such a place as their home, they still came to the conclusion that only a "beast" of such uncontrollable fury could dwell beneath the castle floors, deep in the cellars, sewers, and darkest of dungeons.
Whatever it was, it wasn't so simple as a Sanguine. Since they had arrived at the castle and completed their descent into the chambers below, none had been able to retrace their steps to find a way back out. The glow of their torches only managed to light a few feet in front of them before a darkness halted their vision like a thick unmoving fog. One that had been deliberately, and maliciously, placed there to hinder them. Such an eerie and seemingly impossible phenomenon was, understandably, deeply unsettling to both the young and seasoned hunters of the group alike.
Barely an hour had passed when the group had noticed one hunter, who had been at the back, was now missing. Wasting time searching for him only hurt the remainder of the group, and soon the number of losses increased. To list all that happened in that maze of darkness would be impossible. It seemed no two men had seen the same thing. Some saw nothing at all. It wasn't until days had passed that the group had finally been whittled down to no more than three. The mission had changed entirely by now. Instead of seeking to slay the evil, they were seeking to find the exit, and finally leave this horrible graveyard of corridors and darkness.
Eventually they had come to a large and flawless wooden door. It was so polished, tall and grand that the very wood seemed as though it could rival the crown and jewels of a king in value. Even the hinges were made of finer metal than the iron and steel blades the men themselves adorned. The door, to them, obviously stood out from the cracked, unmaintained and ancient cobblestoned walls that made up the dark maze around them. Upon seeing this possible exit their eyes widened in awe at its perfectly crafted and ornate beauty, as well as the salvation it could offer them if opened.
To think they would have completely missed it in the darkness, if it had not been for the flickering light of their final torch, which frantically danced away from the door, as though a gust of wind was pushing against it. Though there was no such wind.
"We've already walked this hall before." Spoke Eddard – a novice mage and adept sword user - his brows furrowing in confusion as he turned from the door to the remaining hunters. "This couldn't have been here before, we would've seen it, surely?"
Senzo nodded in agreement. He too was quite the sword user, and despite lacking in magical ability, far surpassed Eddard's own skill as a duelist. "We should try break it open, it could lead to an exit, perhaps?" He replied to Eddard.
"What about all the traps? Could this not be another? I mean, just look at it. Who knows what will happen if we aren't careful." Spoke the third and final member of the remaining men: Kraig. He was less experienced than the others, but possessed great common-sense.
"Do you possess a greater idea than I?" Senzo practically snapped back in response, and a great feeling of unease filled the foggy air.
Looks, glances and uncertain expressions were exchanged, and - after a short pause - Eddard spoke up.
"This is the first new thing we've seen within this maze of a castle since Malrick went missing. Senzo is right. This could be an exit, and if it's not, what have we to lose? We shan't last another two days with the food we have left… not to mention our final torch is also nearing its end." The others, Senzo and Kraig, accepted Eddard's decision. He was the most experienced hunter of the three, and his undeniable skill as a hunter gained him more than enough respect from his fellow hunters for them to accept his role as a leader.
Many who found themselves standing within this position of power over others would see it as a dream come true, but to Eddard it was a burden on par with the lives that had already been lost to the surrounding darkness. It was - to him - as though every mistake was his, and his alone. Doubting his own judgment, Eddard would attempt to shake these thoughts from his mind while maintaining a straight and courageous face as to not further destroy what little morale the group had left. He slowly, and nervously placed a hand on the knob of the door.
Out of sheer paranoia, Eddard whispered all manner of prayers under his breath as he turned the handle. Surprisingly, the door itself was unlocked, and from little more than a gentle push, was thrown open in a manner fitting to its grandeur. All three hunters drew their weapons as this happened; Eddard even jumping back slightly at how suddenly the door had swung open. Eddard held his free hand out behind him, gesturing for the torch to be passed before taking a short and cautious step through the frame.
A single lit candle rested upon a desk at the opposite side of the room, dimly lighting what appeared to be some kind of study crossed with a bedroom. Tall shelves lined the walls, though the books that should have filled them, were instead lying across the floor in seemingly random locations – as if they had been thrown in anger. Countless balls of crumpled paper also dotted the ground next to the desk, and a bed fit for nobility filled the centre of the room. Though perhaps most concerning of all – a large circle had been chalked onto the floor, surrounded by five burned out candles. It wasn't until all three men had entered, that Eddard was suddenly met with a large and foreboding shadow, which loomed over him and - despite having no face - seemed to viciously stare him down. It was only as he gazed into this darkness, black as a moonless winter, that he felt the darkness gaze back into him.
"Abyssus..." The featureless shadow seemed to break the very silence it had created. Like a whispered scream, words poured from a mouth it did not have. The figure leaned forward, its height still greater than Eddard's own. "…abyssum invcat." The words sounded malicious, and whichever language it had chosen to speak, Eddard could not understand.
Somehow a confidence rose within him. A feeling no man would expect to possess when facing the monster responsible for the deaths of those they had known mere days before. Eddard would speak; yell, even - raising his voice boldly in attempt to rally the other hunters for a fight that seemed now inevitable. "Listen not to the lies this monster spews, brothers!" Just as he said this, a horrifically deformed hand suddenly gripped his shoulder from behind. The 'touch' was neither cold nor warm. If he had not seen, from the corner of his eye, the elongated and skinless fingers slowly creeping upon him, then – he was sure - he wouldn't have noticed them at all.
His grip upon the torch tightened in fear, and with his limited time to think of his next move, he decided to jerk round, and swing for the monster before it could act.
Countless bright sparks were thrown up into the air as the loud clash of steel filled the room.
"What in the name of Estel's tits are you doing?!" Kraig yelled, his eyes wide as he had only just managed to bring up his blade to block Eddard's swing. Eddard glared at him before pulling his sword from the clash, staggering backwards, and lowering his blade. "It's- It's in the room with us!" He'd exclaim, turning away from Kraig and scanning the room around him, his grip loosening from the sweat of his shaking hands. Kraig nodded, able to understand the creature was clearly trying to trick them, and turn him against Eddard. He refused to be unrightfully angered at Eddard, despite still being startled by his seemingly random attack. Both Kraig and Senzo took defensive stances, with Kraig watching the door, and Kraig watching Senzo. "You, in- In the corner. Name yourself." Eddard demanded, both Senzo and Kraig turning to see who he was talking to. Sure enough, somehow none of them had seen before, that in the corner there was a figure that had gone completely unnoticed, despite being sat right next to the candle light. It was as Eddard spoke, that the door - which Senzo had of course, and perhaps foolishly, turned away from - abruptly slammed shut. All three men then turned to that as well, and in the time that they were not looking at the corner, the single lit candle upon the desk was blown out, and the room shrouded in darkness. Their torch barely managed to light even the floor beneath where they stood.
Slowly the figure in the corner would rise from its seat. As it turned and its features were lit by their dying torch, Eddard would see, his eyes adjusting slightly to the new and even darker light, that this was but a small and fragile looking old man. The man slowly shuffled to the centre of the room, amidst the crumpled paper and scattered books near the bed.
"I suppose…" The man began, interrupting himself with a sudden cough before continuing. "I suppose, you've come to silence some 'evil' that's been terrorizing a nearby village? Whatever problems they have, they're nothing to do with myself. I am sorry to say there is not a single need for you to even be here. Fools blame their misfortune on that which they do not understand: like the politics of the land, or the gods of their misled beliefs." By this time all three hunters had already exchanged puzzled glances. Their swords remained ready, though they did not expect – of all things – to be greeted with a monologue from an old man.
"Whatever petty village sent you, return and tell them they are beneath me. My time here is spent on research far more important than the lot of them."
"Then what has been trying to kill us in the darkness? You think us dull enough to believe your lies, heathen?!" Kraig called out, stepping forth with his sword-arm outstretched and aimed directly at the old man.
"Oh? That was probably me, to be completely honest." He replied almost immediately, unphased by the blade.
"Why?! We entered this place with seven men. Now there are but three of us. What reason did you have to murder them all?"
"Terribly sorry I didn't sit here idle while six swordsmen and an Anti-Mage stormed in to try and take my head. You fail to see how justified my actions of self-defence actually are here, boy."
Kraig found himself caught off guard by the man's logic. It was true that, in theory, all his actions thus far were actually in attempt to stop them from finding, and trying to kill him. However, the village that issued the contract had claimed many had died because of a monster that lived here. Surely this man would be guilty of such crimes, or no reason to waste money on hiring hunters would have arisen.
As if answering the question Kraig had in his mind, the old man would go on to speak again, sitting himself down upon the bed as he spoke. "In truth, it is likely because of the reputation users of magic have gained over the recent years since the-"
Eddard quickly cut him off with a spiteful tone. "We need not education in why your black and foul magic is frowned upon, heathen."
The old man scoffed in response. "You understand what petty villagers do to users of magic and that which they do not fully comprehend?" He paused in his rhetorical question, as if to wait for an answer only he could deliver. "Declare them as witches, heretics, and all manner of foul nonsense! I'll spare you the sob story, and just say that a similar declaration was made against a member of my own family. The village idiots who made these declarations? I ensured they burned... Just as she did." There was a pause, and another sudden fit of violent coughing.
"You don't seem to understand that it was never my intention for this to spiral so far out of my own control. I didn't ask you three to come here. Now leave, before more lives have to be lost for the sake of petty 'vengeance'."
Eddard too felt his courage whither. His self-righteous vision crumbled within his mind. Being a user of magic himself, he shared this experience: the hatred of the ignorant, and thus found himself unable to respond in a way that would discredit the 'evil' mage and his words. He had not expected this encounter to be so… 'grey'. Before it had all seemed to be black and white - with them naturally taking the side of good and venturing forth to defeat the bad. Though, who was to say that the actions of the old man were not justified? If his killings were in fact not justified, just because they were in the name of vengeance, then nor could their murder of him be justified either.
It was then that Senzo would be heard. He had been the quietest of the group so far, saying little to nothing towards the so-called heathen. "You speak with a silver tongue, and twist others perceptions rather skilfully, old man, but I will not continue to be fooled by you." It was as he said this that began to approach the man, sword raised and clearly ready.
The old man looked down, slowly shaking his head with closed eyes while letting out a sigh. He knew now that he had failed, and despite his efforts he was to die before he could complete his research. He lay back on the bed, and awaited the cold steel of the hero's sword, who would likely be remembered as a great warrior to finally slay the evil beast of this lair. However, no such sword ever came. As he lay back his body to rest, so too did his mind. The heroes stood, confused as to why the man no longer replied, or even attempted to defend himself against Senzo's approach. It did not, however, take very long for them to realise what had happened.
It appeared to finally be over. Seconds before their torch went out, Eddard held the flames to one of the many books within the room. While, to him, this was a horrific thing to do – He valued the light higher than his morals at this point. "All this paper... There's more than enough to sustain a flame until we can find the exit." His fellow hunters nodded in reply – Kraig even dropping to his knees from sheer exhaustion, and joy. Senzo's blade was bloodied as he made sure the man had truly passed. To Eddard, there was no treasure at the end of this quest. No chest to break open and reap for reward. Before him lay a dead man, who they had come to murder, and lying within the halls were four more men, who too lay lifeless upon the ground. It troubled him, knowing they would have to return home without them.
After all that had happened, being the only three to survive – they did not feel like heroes. Their "reward" was worth far less than even a single life, never mind five. Despite having lived through this horror, Eddard knew they were not truly victorious. The only victor here, was Death.
