"If I may, I do have more questions." This was an opportunity. You were too used to taking advantage of such times to give up on it now. The angel nodded. "I mean no offense, but… who are you? And what?"
"I am Kylisa, sister to Koiter, who dwells across the sea at the grave of a warrior." She bowed her head. "I am a healer of spirits, dedicated to the preservation of the fallen until they may move on."
"So this is purgatory?" It was obvious, now that you thought about it. She cocked her head.
"Purgatory?"
"The place between the true afterlife and mortality. A place of waiting and judging." She didn't know? Nodding slowly, she looked around slowly.
"I suppose. What else do you wish to know?" Ah. Of course. There was a timetable, you now realized that.
"You said that Salanar has fallen, and that he was a piece of a greater whole? What does that mean?" Any information on that man would be useful, you were sure.
"He was part of this place, as much a part of it as any drop of water or time-worn stone in your plane. But a piece was broken away, torn from these Shadowlands by the God of Death. He tore that shard into many pieces, and enrobed them in flesh, as is his wont." She now had a bitter frown, the expression alien in comparison to her earlier serenity. "He made a bargain with the Deep One, and was enslaved as one of the living dead. Where one had used him to harvest the fallen, now another used him to forge warriors and steeds, and another made him into eyes and ears and a treasonous tongue." She returned to calmness. "He revels in his gory work, taking pride in the deathchargers he creates from the essence of stallions. Thus, he is become the Horseman."
That… was a lot to take in.
"One last question, if I may…" She nodded. "Is there anything I can do to help? I cannot help but feel that I should do something… anything…" You trailed off as she shook her head.
"Nothing that may happen here. Simply survive, and escape, and then you may help." She gestured down the hall. "You have seen my charges. thousands strong, where once there were far more. They are bound, while the rest are not. Free them, and with each new soul, their numbers shall dwindle. Some…" She shook her head again. "Some are not ready, not willing. But even if you cannot free them, free those who remain mindless. They do not deserve this."
You thought you understood. If she meant what it sounded like. "I will try." Bowing, you watched as she turned away. "Thank you." She gave you one last nod, and then faded away as she returned to her post. You turned to go through the door-
"-eeding y-"
Something echoed in your ear, barely audible. It was coming from the hallway you had come down.
You shouldn't.
You knew that you shouldn't have. If there was one thing that voices in such situations always meant, it was 'nothing good.' But it was so tempting…
Damn it all… You had to.
Walking back down the hall, you began to hear the voices more clearly.
"-ing, my s-"
Your steps gained reach as you approached the newly-closed door. The voices became clearer with each step, and you hear a single phrase now. If you could just hear it a little more clearly…
"-cceeding-"
"Succe-"
"Succeeding you-"
As the door swung open, the whole palace came into focus, and you were nearly blinded by the sudden return of color. Two men in red robes wielded spears towards armored men with crested helms. Courtiers and dignitaries stood around in shock at the edges of the wide throne room. On the throne sat an old man, his hair grey but his face strong. Royal regalia sat around his shoulders and a horned crown sat upon his brow. Before him…
Before him was death incarnate. A monstrous figure in the shape of a man, clad in dark steel covered in memento mori. A thick, black cloak wreathed him in shadows, and his hair was bone-white. He was whispering to the old man, who you knew was a king.
"What is this? What are you doing, my son?"
Oh. Oh-
"Succeeding you, father."
With a sickening crack and the scratching of metal on bone, the sword was thrust through the old king, and the murderer kicked the limp body off of the blade. The crown went rolling off to the floor, and the two warriors in red went to the ugly work of cutting down the guards and courtiers.
"This kingdom shall fall." The voice that came from the kingslayer's lips was a clarion call, more fit for a hero than the monster before you. "And from the ashes shall arise a new order that will shake the very foundations of the world!"
The screams and the weeping and the bells all came at you at once in a wave of force not unlike some terrible tide. And then, another sound came through the constant noise. You could not look. Death was no stranger, but this was not noble, and it was not necessary. It was slaughter, plain and simple. So you listened. And from the vast cacaphony came the sound of crying, and the footsteps of silken shoes running on marble.
Focusing, you could see one door open, the archway flanking the throne's other side. The body of the king lay on the dais, forgotten as the butcher strode outside into the sunlight.
There had to be a reason you were seeing this. There had to be. You just had to find it. And you could only assume that the footsteps had something to do with it. You ran across the room, expecting to push open the heavy doors, only for your hand to pass through it as though it wasn't there.
This was a memory. A terrible nightmare retelling a story burned into the minds of those who survived it. You realized now that you had no say in this. You knew it before, but this rendered any intervention impossible.
Ahead of you was a slip of a girl in a red court dress. She was crying and gasping as she ran, finally crawling into an alcove once the screams and fighting had dulled to an echo. Looking closer, she was not much younger than you were; a year or two at most. She was a noble. That much was obvious from the clothing and… cosmetics? Painted lips were allowed here?
Ugh. Just one more thing to add to the list of immoralities you'd confront the Church of Light with, if you ever found reason to.
"Milady?" A servant rounded the corner, kneeling to look the girl in the eye. "Miss Ann, you can't stay here." She was brave. You would give the woman that much. Her voice wasn't even wavering.
"I saw him. I saw him and I didn't notice and now-"
"You couldn't have done anything, milady." The older woman gently pulled the girl's hand. "We need to get you out of here." The girl's weeping became more feverish.
"If I- If I can get to him- If I can talk to him I might-"
"Don't you think about it, milady! No one could stop him now!" The servant stood, and pulled the girl to her feet. "Come with me. We'll get you somewhere safe." The servant almost dragged the weeping girl out of the alcove and through the halls. Several times they paused as the young noble broke down again, and you eventually found the wherewithal to look outside through one of the windows.
You wished you hadn't. You could recognize the scene immediately. The people were the same as the images you had passed in the main concourse. There were some of the soldiers, pushing the civilians back as they fought off ghouls. Most were overwhelmed in seconds. There were parents, trying to carry their children to safety. You couldn't look as the undead caught up to them.
You had caught a glance of the city through the throne room gate. This was a hellish parody. The sky was choked with black smoke, and fires climbed into the sky like beacons for some demonic host. The bells kept ringing, though you suspected that it was a late attempt to sound the alarm rather than any ignorance on the ringers' part.
This was the city of Lordaeron, which had stood since the days of an empire long dead. And you were watching it burn.
You left the window, following the servant and her charge through the halls as more guards and servants frantically tried to mount some form of effective defense. Their resolve was commendable - they continued the effort even as they heard the previous line of defense failing, a chorus of screams and shrieks.
And yet you pressed on, following the noble and her servant. Finally, they, and you, came to a lone tapestry.
"Here we are, miss Ann." The older woman was smiling in an attempt to reassure her young charge, you were sure of it. "Now it's time for you to go."
"But -"
"None of that, miss. You need to get out. I only -" The servant sighed. "I only wish you didn't have to." She looked up. "You!" A young soldier stood nearby, having been running to join his comrades.
"I... Yes?" He was confused. You didn't blame him.
"You are going to protect this woman as she gets out of the city. Then you'll keep her safe into the Northern Kingdom, or Hearthglen, or the Monastery of Light for all I care. But you will keep her safe. Understand?" The soldier spluttered.
"I'm a soldier of Lordaeron -"
"And I'm the senior maid of the household! Do you understand?" The soldier squinted at her, then at the noble girl, and his eyes widened in some form of recognition.
"I - I'm sorry, ma'am! I'll obey those orders with my life! I'm sorry, ma'am…" He looked at the tapestry. "Through here?" At the maid's nod, he pulled the cloth aside to reveal a narrow passage. "I'll go ahead." He went in sideways, struggling not to cause a racket in his armor.
"Now," the maid said, "It's time you were on your way."
"But Milicent -" The maid cut her off with a gesture, quickly embracing her before pushing the weeping girl through the dark tunnel.
As you watched her leave, you saw the colorlessness returning at the ends of the hallway. Milicent faded into nothing as she strode down the corridor. Looking to the tapestry, you nodded to yourself.
"Let's see what happened next." The cloth faded past you just as the door had. The tunnel was dark and cramped, and clearly under-maintained. It was an emergency measure none had expected to need. Finally, you emerged into the light again, and saw the noble and her protector fleeing into the brush of a garden.
All around you were trees and flower bushes and hedges. As you watched, the color faded, and all was as before: grey and silent. The bells and the screams had faded away, and the whispers returned.
"Took a detour, did you?" You didn't even flich at the voice this time. Next to you, Salanar leaned against a haedge wall. "Didn't expect you to hear a memory. Then again, you're a bit of a surprise yourself, so I should've seen the possibility."
"You mean that wasn't your intent?" You had a hard time believing that. "I just happened to stumble upon it at the right moment?" He shrugged.
"Damned if I know. I never really paid attention to the details before, and this," he gestured to his body, "is a recent change. Not wholly unenjoyed, but recent." He stretched. "Lets me know what works on you when I can test it. But enough of that." he gestured to you, and walked to the tile path. "Walk with me. I have a few things to say."
Pick one:
[] Agree (Players may add terms and stipulations)
[] Refuse (Players may add reactions)
[] Write in
Thanks to san for advice on this chapter.
I hope you all enjoy it. Or "enjoy" it. Whichever.