Voices in the Dark

Deep below the earth, beneath the ash that claimed the skies. The tunnels made with hands frantic. Ancient, forgotten, hidden. Our dear Mother first, deep below the graves of those who fell after the skies shattered. Deeper still, under lakes of acid and dark, under starless skies. The relics lost to our kind, immune to the caustic fluids despite their best efforts. A strange laugh, cruel as the winter's bark. Is there a cavern, unnatural. The sacred earth dare not touch, for the Mother that lies lifeless and cold.

Here rests our tunneler, next to her body that refuses to rot. Unmarked by time, unmolested by decay, untouched by nature. Pale in her bloodless sleep, throat opened to still air. Eyes long since milky, sightless yet observing. Song silent from her lips. Next to her, in prayer, in perhaps grief lay the bones of our digger.

Scrawled in this cave, repeated over and over endlessly. "Why did you send us away, we could have saved you."   "Why did you leave Rythia behind, Mother?"

Those old bones, shifted in the dark. Twisting, creaking , begging. Sockets where eyes once lived, stared into mine. The dust falling away from this old priestess as she rose, reaching her fingers out to me. Jaw moving, trying to speak without voice, impossible in the current state. The mortal form such a limited thing. This no longer felt like a dream, this was no nightmare, this was a vision from a soul long since forgotten.

Martha appeared with the lantern, dreams meant nothing to her, freely drifting between realities as her soul was free to wander. Kin untethered, sister a specter to aid me when I needed it most. I saw now, the grim light of the lantern pervasive even in this vision, those old bones were moving. Next to a corpse I recognized from other seances with the Goblins. That woman who met Yvet in his death, the corpse woman from Ilgor's dreams, that ghost I had met with in the Necropolis. These old bones still wore the clothing of her people, though stained, time had done nothing to the material.

This priestess long dead, reaching out. "This is a dream, you can speak." I gently told it.

The priestess' spine snapped as it rose its head to try. It tried again, it's head falling from its body. Though it didn't have a face, I could feel its desperation, its annoyance. Drifting over to it, Martha took the lantern from my hand and set it next to the skull, touching it with her ghostly fingers. I was instantly assailed by an all too powerful voice, the same way I had been when I had met the V'heild, its power threatening to crush my soul beneath its weight.

Speaking in that same language it had, the lessons Ilgor had been teaching me about Elder Fae finally coming in handy. "The stones. Bring them. Worship them. Need them. Bring her back."

Though she was dreaming, she felt her body begin to weaken as her mind experienced this. Feeling the blood run out of her ears and down her nose, being unable to do anything about it. "The Archon Stones? That's what I'm looking for, learning. What do you know about them?" I asked, trying my absolute damnedest to keep hold of my soul, mind and body from tearing away from each other as the old priestess spoke.

"Blood. Cruel fate. Blood. Bring her back. Stones are blood. Bring her back. Need Mother back." It said as something pulled my mind back into my body like a fish being pulled from the ocean. The hook set deep, the snap back, the feeling of movement without understanding.

I awoke in my cot with Emily breathing hard the magic already fading from her hands. My pillow covered in blood, my hair drenched in it, still warm as I pulled my hand away from my tangled locks. "Did I scream?" I was already getting out of the cot to wash my hair in the basin beside the nightstand.

"Don't make this sound like nothing happened, you sound bored!" Emily yelled exasperated. "That voice coming from your mouth wasn't yours, what..." Was all I heard as I collapsed, I presumed it was from blood loss. In my dreams, stranger things swirled. Eyes, royal like a setting sun with the majesty of the deep purple in them. Voices I didn't know. The skull of the old priestess speaking to me. Three skulls burning in a fire as Ilgor sat next to Bhal. A setting sun. A stilled sea. A reason lost. Songs stolen. The skies broken, a darkness surrounding all. "Azorez" A sweet voice called to me.

Still the dreams wouldn't leave me be, a corpse of a giant covered in eyes. Swarmed by many thousands of beings. The golden spear of Bhal striking down that corpse in the dark. The sound of throat being sliced open, a screamless cry for help. "Azorez, you've rested long enough." That sweet voice again.   My dreams soothed only a little as the Ghost of Yvet lingered in my mind. The faces of the goblins that fell in the field north of here. Not their deaths, but their memories. How they wished to be remember. "Azorez."   I was in a mossy glen, a warm river watching as Ilgor tried to scrub her skin clean. The skin raw and bloody as Ghet stopped her. "Momma."

Gasping for air, I sat up too quickly. My head swimming, as my vision tried to focus. "Momma! You're back!" Talia squealed with delight. The noise both soothing and ear piercing.

"Does that happen often, Azorez?" Ilgor asked as she pulled her hand away from my chest, the warm glow of her healing magic already beginning to dissipate.

Not bothering to answer that, It wasn't common, but I had experienced the dead in my dreams before. It was more dangerous, far more vulnerable than if I was the one to conduct the seance myself. "Illy, who is Rythia?"

The silence in the room spoke much louder than if there was any noise at all. As if the world outside had gone still, looking over at her. She was shocked, eyes wide, lips slightly parted as if she wanted to say something. She regained herself quickly though, shaking herself from her surprise. "Rythia, in our faith was our first priestess. She led our clan our of the darkness along with Bhal, she was special even among our Sisterhood. It was said she was as strong as our Great Father, able to do the same things he could, but she always respected him. We were told that she disappeared from the clan, no one ever knew were she went. Not even her Acolyte. The stories we tell say she left not long after having conducting the Ceremony of Bhal for her Daughter."

"Huh." I said as something clicked into place somewhere in my mind.

"Where did you hear that name, it's old scripture that I haven't discussed with anyone except for Mother Kari." Ilgor asked, setting her head in her hands.