Chapter 132 – The House of Fall and Ruin (3)

Wearing tattered and ruined clothes, the people that stepped out into the hallway were people no more. Their eyes were glowing with an otherworldly blue light, and their bodies had long since begun to fall apart. Some missed a few fingers, while others had whole chunks of flesh missing, revealing the bare bones underneath.

These were the bodies of the fallen who had been taken over by spirits from the other side of the veil. There was no human mind or soul behind those glowing eyes.

Tightly grasping the hilt of his sword, he rushed to the nearest one. The blade met little resistance as he slashed across the creature’s neck. A light thud sounded as the creature’s head rolled off and fell to the ground. The blue light left the dead eyes and flew off into the mist.

Willow ran past him before he could find his next target. Her rapier struck the left eye of the nearest creature. The light in its eyes flashed out of existence, and the lifeless body fell to the ground. She visibly flinched, glancing at her blade, then at the body. “Why did it do that?”

“Stand aside.” Arwen’s voice rang loudly, startling them both. Her staff glowed golden as she focused, her eyelids half closed, and her lips slightly parted.

They threw themselves towards the walls just in time as a beam of light burst out of Arwen’s staff. The creatures didn’t even have the time to see it properly before it touched them. Their flesh disintegrated, their bones turned to dust, and what was left of the clothes they wore were no more. Blue lights violently flashed in the beam of gold before it finally vanished, leaving nothing but small piles of dust behind.

Willow blinked a few times. “I… wow, Arwen,” she stammered, both impressed and confused. “When did you learn that?”

“I’ve been practicing.” She looked away, turning her attention towards the other side of the hallway.

There was nothing left of the few shambling, reanimated corpses that Ilya and Cait faced. “Burning them is much easier.” Ilya dryly spoke, shooting a glance at the half a dozen or so piles of dust left by Arwen’s resonance. “Your way works too… though it’s rather flashy.” Her eyes were narrowed, and her gaze filled with distrust.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” Arwen’s reply was equally dry, and her gaze equally filled with hostility. The tension was palpable as they stared at each other.

He really didn’t have the patience to deal with this. “Let’s go,” he marched on, breaking the silence, and ending the glaring contest. It was clear why Arwen disliked his sister, she saw her as cowardly. And Ilya’s suspicions against Arwen were certainly not unfounded – but petty moments like this did nothing to further her goal to get to the bottom of this. Then again, Ilya had never been a particularly patient person.

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Ignoring them, he walked on, following the calming melody he could now hear much more clearly. The others followed him only after a slight delay. Their steps echoed in the hallway, drowned out by the melody that continued to grow louder and clearer.

Before they had even walked for a whole minute, the hallway opened up to a large, hexagonal chamber. The floor of the chamber was covered in blooming blue flowers, and vines decorated with similarly glowing flowers hung from the high ceiling. Each wall of the hexagonal chamber housed a beautifully carved archway with a closed door.

Midhir’s gaze snapped to the door straight ahead of them – it was a wooden door, reinforced with metal. There was a small gap at chin level, filled with metal bars. It almost looked like a prison door. The wood had rotten somewhat, and the door was hanging off a single hinge, left half open.

He felt his blood freeze in his veins as he walked up to the door. The melody was much louder now, he could hear it almost wholly. It was a majestic sound, calming yet empowering at the same time. It didn’t consist of any instruments, instead, it was ethereal. It almost felt like he didn’t really hear it – not normally. Instead, it rang in his mind.

He placed his palm against the door, and gently gave it a push. A loud, deafening creak sounded as the door slowly swung open and hit the wall.

There was a large, round chamber behind the door, boasting a high, vaulted ceiling. The floor was covered in blue flowers, just like the rest of the Induen Estate, though crimson flowers peaked through the sea of blue, creating a familiar symbol on the ground, around the very thing that caused the disaster – a large, stone altar lay in two distinct pieces in the centre of the room. When it was whole, a person would have easily been able to lay on it.

“Gods…” Arwen whispered, her gaze shifting from the altar to the source of the blue light illuminating the room.

On the other side of the room, near the wall, a blue vortex hung in the air. It whirled calmly, occasionally releasing specks of blue light into their world. Spirits from beyond the veil entered their world, flying past them in search of a host to possess.

Ilya clicked her tongue. “So here it is.” She hissed with a fiery gaze. “We must close this tear-“

“That’s not a tear.” Arwen’s cold, trembling voice cut her off. “Look at it – it’s stable. It’s been stable for fifteen years. You can’t close that – none of us can.” She turned her gaze to Ilya. “Can you?” She asked, with a hint of desperate hope in her voice.

Ilya clenched her fists.

“You’re not strong enough.” Arwen concluded. “No one is. That’s why it’s been left here, right?”

Midhir scowled. “Mother…” he stopped himself. “No, she knew it was here. She saw it.” She knew it was here – and she had left it here, claiming the mist was too dangerous to navigate through. Claiming unspeakable horrors lay in wait. Claiming no one could survive coming so deep into the mist.

But the path here was all but dangerous. Even the shambling corpses possessed by the spirits hadn’t posed much danger. They were so slow and sluggish that even a child could outrun them with ease. Either they had been incredibly lucky, or danger wasn’t the reason why the thirteenth district had been left to slowly sink further each passing day.

“We must find Lonan and leave. Fast.” Midhir said as he turned around, only to see the dozen or so crossbows pointed at his chest.

A man stood behind the crossbow wielding people, wearing an almost comical helmet decorated with a fancy feathery plume. “Who could have known we would find both the princess, and the ritual thief