"Alan…."
"A..A..Alan…"
The voice, laced with dread and despair, pierced through Alan's earlier calm. He opened his eyes, but saw nothing but darkness. The lethargic humming still echoed in his ears, lulling him back to sleep.
"Alan, wake up!!"
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open to the sight of Lyco's deathly visage. The relaxed muscles in his body tensed, and his calm tongue began to tremble. His mouth went dry as he clenched his fists, fighting the fear that Lyco's dead gaze instilled in him.
Alan was paralyzed, unable to speak, his heartbeat and breath seemingly absent in the still dark air. Lyco's face, one eye hanging out, his body exactly as it was at the moment of death, stared at Alan. Despite the lifeless gaze, Lyco's lips curled inanimately, his voice urgent, rushing Alan's blood through his veins.
"Alan..wa..ke..up!"
"Aaaahhhhh!!!!!!!"
Alan's cry echoed in his ears as he closed his eyes in the darkness and opened them inside a strange veil of steam. He gasped rapidly, his blood still pumping from the terrifying vision. Confusion and dread filled his throbbing head as he looked around, finding himself in an environment filled with steam and dripping hot water. His drying mouth moved, voicing his confusion.
"W..wh..where am I?"
"Ahh!!"
Suddenly, Alan groaned in pain. His head throbbed as if a nail was being driven into the back of his skull. Instinctively, his hands traveled to the source of the pain. His squinting eyes widened in shock as a sensation he could never have imagined grew under his hand. He felt something squishy, slimy, and slithering—something that began writhing in his grip as soon as he touched it.
"Ahhhhhhhhh!!! Hmmppphhh!!!bhhaaa!" Disgust and repulsion tore through Alan's rasping throat. He felt the pain, pieces of his skin and strands of his hair coming away with the grotesque worm he yanked from his head and threw it down on the ground. Horror rose in the steamy, fragrant air, transforming it into dread and repulsion.
The worm was grotesque, its pale red form filled with pimples and covered in shiny slime. One end had a pointy tail, and the other a crow-like beak, stained with Alan's blood. It slithered around, shrieking in agony. Alan watched in disbelief as the numbness subsided from his head, replaced by an agonizing pain piercing his mind. The sight churned his stomach, and he vomited, blood seeping from the back of his mouth.
"W…wh.why Alan? Why would you do that?" The worm's shrieking halted, morphing into words that raised Alan's rasping head. His moist, squinted eyes widened, disgust turning into horror and apprehension. Dread took over his body. Instinctively, Alan jumped back, tightening his hands. With a burst of pale green smoke and mist, gauntlets of the same hue formed, covering his arms up to the elbows. Sharp points adorned the knuckles, and nails sharp as swords appeared—the second ring given to him by Armis had transformed.
Alan gritted his teeth, feeling every drip of blood escaping from the wound on the back of his head. But neither the mystic transformation of the ring nor the sharp pain broke his attention from the grotesque transformation of the worm.
He watched in rasping dread as the worm's beak enlarged, more flesh and slimy tissue tearing from its body. The paleness of its skin faded until it became translucent. From its pointy tail, two legs grew, but it wasn't the skin of its limbs that Alan found eerie; it was the attire. An almost blurring, translucent fabric appeared on the grotesquely emerging body of a man.
Once the repulsive transformation ended, it filled Alan with more dread. It sparked his memories—his pain, his grief, his despair. Every emotion and his whole soul came flooding back to his mind, riddled with despair, as he recognized the drowsy, lackluster, see-through face of the man that had emerged from the worm, that was sucking the soul from his mind.
"Caelum…" Alan's disbelief seeped from his shivering lips. He lowered his armored fists, an eerie curiosity guiding his steps toward the grotesque, lethargic projection of the astrologer.
"Yes… Alan… it… is… me." For a moment, the pain in his brain dissipated, replaced by the soothing sensations he had felt in his slumber. The aroma of lethargy in the air began to take over Alan's body as he neared the figure.
But then it rang again, "Alan!!!" Lyco's voice echoed in his head. In the growing darkness, the dead visage of his friend flashed once more, tearing Alan away from the trance of sloth. Alan bellowed in pain, jumping away from the ghostly figure of Caelum.
"Ahahhhhhhh!!!!!!! Ahh!!! What?! What is going on?!" Alan cried out, his bloodshot eyes snapping open. His teeth gritted against the pained sensation that suddenly filled his numbing body.
Frustration mounted into anger as he looked around in fury. Unaware of the nature of the surface on which he stood, Alan punched through it with his armored hand. In his iron grip, he clutched whatever filled his hold and, with a burst of mist, tore out a giant, rotten chunk of bricks and stone. He hurled it toward the spectral form of Caelum, yelling, "WHERE AM I?!"
The figure moved slowly, very slowly. Even when its eyes finally began to react, the chunk of brick collided with its form, exploding into debris and sending it hurling into the suffocating steam.
Alan gasped for breath, his lungs burning with every inhalation in the steamy atmosphere. He tried to keep his eyes affixed on the ghostly figure of Caelum, but the dreadful steam quickly covered the debris, hiding the dreadful figure once more.
Alan blinked, drawing a heavy breath as relief washed over him. Though a tinge of pain and the sensation of blood dripping from the wound on his head lingered, he began to push through it. Just as his eyes started to calm, they tore open in horror. The grotesque astral form of Caelum stood inches from his face, its lethargic tone and drifting words chilling Alan to his core.
"Why…? Why… would… you… do… that, Alan? I… am… Caelum… remember…?"
Alan's body went limp, his eyes dropping as darkness veiled his mind. He began to fall, but Lyco's voice called out again. Before his face could collide with the ground, Alan's body jolted, muscles tightening with such shock that when he snapped his eyes open, his arms spread wide.
He clenched his fists just before hitting the ground, saving his fall. Using the momentum, he contorted his body back up, spinning, and delivered a wind-breaking punch at Caelum. This time, Alan felt it—twisting flesh, cracking bone. Caelum's body contorted and was punched away, tearing through the steam and colliding with the wall in a resounding explosion.
Alan gasped for air, as if each time he jumped out of the lethargic effect, he had to pump his lungs, restart his heart, and escape the jaws of death.
But this time, he had no reprieve. As the sound of the explosion dissipated and the steam closed back in, two translucent chains shot through the mist, binding Alan's body and crushing it hard. Caelum lunged at him, and Alan suddenly felt no energy, no tension—just numb and limp. Caelum delivered a jaw-breaking kick, hurling Alan into the wall at the end of the steamy chamber. Debris and rocks stabbed into his back, and blood burst from his mouth.
Alan's body fought a dilemma as his heart battled through the numbness and his mind struggled to say in the lethargy. He staggered to his feet, doing his best to open his drooping eyes. His blinking, hazy gaze looked ahead, watching as Caelum emerged from the dense steam. Its movements were weird and hypnotic; one blink made Caelum's steps appear normal, while the next blink slowed them to a crawl. The atmosphere and steam contorted Alan's senses, playing with his mind.
"Alan... Alan, wake up!" The grim echo of Lyco's voice rang in Alan's ears, each time revitalizing his slothful body. Alan snapped open his eyes and saw Caelum moving at normal pace, its see-through hand raised above his head, ready to slam down with a devastating strike.
His eyes closed once more, but this time, his mind went empty—not from lethargy or sloth, but from a calming peace. Alan's inner mind settled into tranquility. When he opened his eyes, he found Caelum's fist inches away from his face, moving in a crawl's pace. It wasn't an effect of Caelum; it was Alan gaining control over his body.
Alan lunged away swiftly, curling his body into a slap kick. Time resumed its normal pace, and the kick resounded as it slammed into Caelum's face, clearing the steam within a two-meter radius.
Caelum's astral form skidded across the stony, rotting ground, creating a crater in the wall and hurling debris. But once again, numbness and darkness began to creep over Alan. His body nearly succumbed to lethargy before he bit hard on his lip, the crushing pain anchoring him back from the deathly grip of sloth. He stood up, taking calculated deep breaths, his eyes half-closed, not from growing sloth but from the focus he kept on Caelum.
Caelum's hollow body contorted, broken joints and shattered bones snapping back into place. It jumped down from the crater, its droopy eyes locking onto Alan. Alan spoke in a calculated tone, tinged with frustration, "Touching you feels like death. Your voice makes me limp. The very sight of you is tiresome. What are you?"
"It's me... Alan... I... I... am Caelum... you... re... read... my... j—"
"Shut the fuck up!" Alan's struggle, turning into frustration, cut through Caelum's lazy, slurry words. He crunched his armored knuckles, pained frustration seeping through his gritted teeth. "You can't be him. What I read or..."
Alan closed his eyes, his mind collecting the scattered memories of his soul. Instances flashed in his mind: Lyco's death, making his grave, traveling inside the luxury of the chamber, his exchange with Longiseus, his dilemma on leaving him behind, traveling through corridors, stopping Armis from opening the next gate.
Then, it was all a blur—comfortable sensations, calm and soothing voices, a drowsy fragrance. Alan couldn't recall the memory that was present in his mind, the memory of which Caelum talked about. But no scene, no sound related to that memory was present in his mind. And soon, those lethargy-filled sensations vanished when Alan opened his cleared eyes.
——thhdaaaammm!!!——
Only the sights of steam entered his gaze before a crushing blow slammed into the side of his head. His consciousness began fading, his body going numb, his tongue curling and voicing slurry words, "Reserare Scena XX... Sevngali..."
And in a sudden burst of movement, Alan's limping body curled and contorted before rolling back from the still Caelum. Alan's fist closed into a devastating punch that swiftly met Caelum's drowsy, ghostly face.
In that instant, Alan's gauntlet-covered hand burst through Caelum's astral head. Flesh and blood sprayed into the pristine white steam, painting it crimson for a moment. As the steam began to clear, the decapitated body of Caelum became visible, reverting to the pale whiteness of the worm it had transformed from.
Alan snapped open his eyes, straightening up. He saw the decapitated body of Caelum, now fully solid, before it went limp and fell to the ground, spraying blood.
Alan took a deep breath, focusing back on the twitching body of Caelum. The mist and hazy steam surrounding him began to clear, revealing the rotten chamber. Thrashed and overrun by foliage, the furniture hiding in the steamy veil became visible. Inch by inch, the chamber resembling a memory that had just vanished from his mind came into view. Alan began remembering stepping inside the chamber, not in ruins, but as it once used to be.
The wooden covers of books inside algae-ridden shelves remained, and the rotting debris of the sundial littered the remains of the table. Alan's eyes fell upon a rotting door, the exit from the chamber. His attention was drawn back to the twitching, withering body of the imposter Caelum. Words slurred and echoed with agony, emanating from the bounded soul inside the grotesque vessel, calling out to Alan.
"Whh… whh… why… would… you… do… that? I… am… Caelum… you… k… know… me… Alan…"
Alan's deep breath brought back his composure, his mind scrambling back into place. No shred of sloth or lethargy remained in the air or in Alan's mind.
As he walked towards the dusting vessel of Caelum, kneeling near its collapsing body, Alan felt pain. It wasn't from gazing at the writhing body of Caelum, nor from the wound on the back of his head still seeping blood onto the floor.
It was from the reemergence of memories that had riddled, shifted, and changed Alan's behavior before stepping onto this floor. Every cry, every moment of chaos, each despaired death flashed before Alan's eyes, reopening the wounds he had tried to cauterize with his stoic behavior.
The one who spoke next was not the disillusioned Alan who had read Caelum's diary about his life. It was the Alan who had contemplated each word absorbed through his eyes.
"No, you are not. He is dead, and I am sure he was a liar. His sloth, his inactivity didn't save Pompeii. I am sure he died and became trapped here. You know why that is?"
As Alan spoke, the coldness of his calming blood became evident in his tone. He didn't know the full truth, nor did he understand the entirety of Caelum's fate. All Alan knew was that he wanted the imposter, the sullied soul of Caelum, to feel the same pain he was feeling—the pain of realizing that the calm, the rest, the soothing air had all been lies meant to consume his soul by a grotesque worm. Caelum's body almost became dust as it tried to speak further, but its slurring words were halted by Alan. He stood up, exuding his newfound cold nature at the creature.
"No… no… nothing you say would matter because you were nothing but an incompetent coward, and your sloth contributed to Pompeii's devastation."
"But I was tri—" The imposter tried one last time to retort against Alan's cold words, but it couldn't fight against Alan's force. Alan stood up and stomped on its dusting head, not even sparing a final glance. He moved ahead and left through the shambled door, the creak of the door echoing in the rotten chamber.
As Alan stepped outside from the ruination of the once steamy chamber, he was greeted by the suffocating haze once again. A dense veil of steam blocked his sight; it was not soothing or calm. The dripping sound of the water felt like a piercing sensation in his already throbbing ears.
The steam threatened to jam his lungs, and the fragrance of the chamber felt so repugnant that Alan covered his face with his hand. Squinting his gaze, he looked around, his ears fighting against the piercing echo. Alan cautiously took a step ahead. And suddenly,
"Aahhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!—-dddhhhaaamm!!!!!—-"
The steam before his eyes cleared, though he remained still. For a flash of a moment, Alan saw the flying silhouette of Armis before the steam veiled over again with a resounding crash and hurling debris.
"Submit…to…the..rest…For…slumbering…darkness….is….way…to….salvation…."
First emerged an echo, then parted the dense mist. From it stomped forward a similar hollow form of a giant man, draped in ancient armor.
Its long locks flowed mystically in the air, and the protruding cheekbones of its lethargy-ridden face resembled the flash of the memory where Alan saw the same visage carved in an emblem.
Its cumbersome eyes met Alan's sharp gaze. Without wasting a moment, Alan tightened his armoured fists and began to propel into the air when suddenly his movements became slow. The same horrific numbness began growing over Alan's body, but prepared for anything, Alan parted his shivering jaw, preparing for another bite on his already bloody lip.
But before his teeth could land on his tattered lips, Alan landed flat on the ground. A thud echoed, and the dreadful echo of his crunching bones rang in Alan's ears. As though the weight of a thousand men fell upon his body, Alan became immobilized beneath the unseen force, only his contorting face displaying his retort.
"Submit to the sloth, give in to the res—-Yeahhhhhh!!!!—-Dhhhdhhaaammmm!!!!—-"
As the steam grew over Alan's pinned-down body, the hollow vessel of Thaddeus looked at Alan with its drowsy eyes, raised its hand, devoid of any sluggish movements, its lips curling into words without slurs.
But before his hand could strike down on Alan, Armis's battle cry rumbled in the steamy air. Tearing through the pristine white veil, he lunged at the astral form of Thaddeus, crushing its translucent head with a powerful punch before sending it hurling into the steam. Alan's body gained sensation as Armis's call entered his numbing ears. His lungs pumped bated breaths through his mouth as he stood up, taking Armis's hand as support.
"Alan, you alright?" Armis asked, his face contorted with the same confusion and tiredness, his gritting teeth fighting against the crushing drowsiness present in the air.
"I..I..am fine. What about you?" Alan asked, his words coming in rasping breaths, the toll of the lethargic effect evident more on his form than Armis's. But clutching his fist, gritting teeth with squinting eyes, Alan too rose his head, looking ahead at the ghostly figure of Thaddeus approaching through the steam.
"What is going on? What is this place? And Al—" His hasty words halted, his confused eyes widened in apprehension and dread when they fell upon the gaping, bleeding wound on the back of Alan's head. A tinge of repulsion in his shocked eyes, as Armis began approaching Alan, dreadful concern evident in his voice, "Alan, y..you are blee—-MOVE!!!!!——Dhadaaammm!!!!"
But the concerned tone of Armis had no effect on Thaddeus's spectral projection. It extended its hand, grunting, materializing a hollow, see-through block of rot and debris. Though weightless in appearance, it filled Alan with a sudden surge of blood.
He halted Armis's words mid-sentence, yelling out in warning before pushing him and jumping away from the crushing death that came when the hollow projection of rot and debris fell on the steam-hidden ground. It collided with a resounding clash, leaving a crater and hurling debris in its wake before disintegrating with a flash of glow.
"Armis…it's…me…Thaddeus...leave…the…dread….and…rest….work..f—-SHUT UP!!!!!!!!"—-swoshhhh!!!!——phthhaackkkk!!!!"
When once again the steam covered each inch of the chamber behind them, the eerie echo of its grim voice reached the rasping Alan and Armis.
Feeling the frustrating drowsy effect from its words, Alan's pinching pain turned into fury. He yelled back in anger, and the gauntlet dissipated in a burst of pale green glow, which then mixed with the golden glow from the emergence of the golden whip in Alan's hand. He swung it across Thaddeus's face, creating a bloody slash across its ghostly visage before its form stumbled back on its feet.
Alan began to yell, but halted before words could escape his bloody lips. Sudden apprehension washed over his body as he turned and saw Armis lying on the steam-covered ground.
Only the obsidian shoulder of Armis's armor was visible through the thick haze. Alan rushed toward him, parting the steam with his hands. Armis's visage appeared almost lifeless, his eyes devoid of soul, his body emitting no warmth.
His mouth was agape, releasing shallow breaths and faint heartbeats. Alan looked around frantically, his face contorting in frustration as he watched Thaddeus stagger back up. Meanwhile, Armis's heartbeat and breathing were dying down with each moment. Frustration mounted as Alan gritted his teeth and slowly closed his eyes.
For a moment, he felt piercing pain from his head and lips, crushing aches from his entire body, each piece of his bones threatening to pull apart. In the next moment, a calm breath escaped his lips, whispering words,
"Reserare….Scaena….XX….Svengali.."
With a snap, time crawled as Alan opened his eyes, turning towards the approaching, see-through figure of Thaddeus. Alan's sharp, focused gaze found its hand extended at him, standing only a few steps away.
Quickly turning his attention to Armis, who was drowning in the lethargic embrace of death, Alan moved swiftly. He curled his middle finger, holding it with his thumb, and placed it on the only exposed skin of Armis, his forehead. With a flick of his finger, Alan sent a sudden jolt through Armis's body. As time returned to its normal pace, Armis snapped open his eyes, taking a heavy, gasping breath. Alan turned and time began crawling again.
Alan lunged toward the suspended, spectral form of Thaddeus. He took a crushing step before jumping up, curling and spinning into a devastating slap kick. Time resumed even faster as soon as his kick collided with Thaddeus's face. A windbreaking force repelled all the steam, followed by a resonating sound. Alan landed as Thaddeus's large frame was thrashed onto the ground with another resounding crash.
"Y…you…do…n..not…be…belong…h—-Aahhhh!!!!! Thwachhckk!!!!!!!"
With its crushed face, Thaddeus's squashed lips began to curl out drowsy words, gazing at Alan with its distorted stare. Suddenly, Armis came running from behind Alan, who was just beginning to calm down. With a swift and powerful kick, Armis blasted Thaddeus's already crushed head into debris of flesh and blood, yelling in maniacal frustration. He continued to stomp with both feet, spraying blood and debris as Thaddeus's form began to return to the pale color of skin.
"Ah!!! Ah!!! Ahhh!! Get out!!! Get out!! Get out of my head!!!!!! Ahhh!!!! Ahhh!! Ah!!!"
The veil of steam cleared, revealing the rotten chamber. Thaddeus's lifeless form transitioned from hollow to solid, then to dust. The trembling earth beneath Armis's feet and his pained shrieks stopped only when tears of frustration streamed down his battered cheeks. His cries turned into gasps as he gazed at the crumbled dust of Thaddeus's hollow vessel, its bounded soul having departed amidst his ruthless stomping. Curling frustration danced on his shivering tongue, his voice echoing with fury.
"You!!!!! You are shit!!! You fucking coward!!! Filling me with that slumber and rest, Lacershit!!!! Go to hell!!!!!"
——blleehhhhhghhhhh!!!! Ahhhhh!!!! Bleghhh!!!—-
Suddenly, Armis's reverie of fury broke with a stomach-churning piercing sound from behind. He quickly turned, his anger fading into dread and concern as he saw Alan collapsed on his knees. Blood and vomit belched violently from Alan's mouth, and the blood that had only dripped from his wound before, now turned into a stream.
"Alan! Alan! What's happening?!" Armis dashed toward Alan, trying to help but feeling helpless as he saw the amount of blood spewing out of
Alan's body.
Frustration gritted Armis's teeth, but suddenly Alan's shivering body calmed, his retches turning into rasping breaths. Alan placed his shivering hand on Armis's shoulder, using it for support to stand up.
Wiping vomit and blood from his mouth, he looked ahead toward the shambled wooden gate, the exit from the rotten chamber. Seeing Alan's fixed, shivering gaze, Armis stood up. Before his tongue could voice his concern again, Alan's gasping breaths formed into words, voicing the urgency of his bleeding mind.
"Re… Relecta… Armis, across that door is Relecta, and we… can't… waste any more time… sparring… with another one of these… so listen carefully."
Armis heard Alan's groaning words carefully, little by little gaining control of his own mind. Dreadful memories of their horrific journey resurfaced, but his armor clutched around his body, ensuring his despair didn't slip out anymore. Both of them locked their eyes on the wooden, rotting exit as Alan's voice gained more composure, his words putting their next step in Armis's mind.
——bdhdaaaammmm!!!!!——
Armis burst through the gate into the next steamy chamber, their eyes blinded by the pristine veil. But as Alan jumped in, his straining, squinted eyes discerned Relecta's limped and unconscious body, with a similar grotesque worm attached to her neck, sucking out her blood and soul.
"ARMIS!!!!!!!!!" Alan bellowed, pointing towards the faint silhouette of Relecta. Trusting Alan's eyes, Armis lunged into the dense steam, his stomps echoing with splashes, his gritted teeth fighting against the crushing drowsy atmosphere. In the moment when Armis saw a glimpse of Relecta's body, he jumped swiftly, vaulting in mid-air, and grabbed onto the slimy, slithering form of the worm. He yanked it out from Relecta's neck with such force that it jerked her body, eliciting a spray of blood before she fell back into the steam.
"ALAN!!!!!" Armis yelled as he hurled the writhing worm into the air. On cue, Alan focused his strained gaze, his fist clutched as crimson smoke and mist transformed his ring into a sword. Alan moved at blinding speed, spinning in mid-air with a slash that sliced through the worm with fiery precision. He landed, staggering before Armis caught his limping body. They both watched as the sliced pieces of the grotesque worm burst with an explosion of blood and flesh, leaving behind an echo of a shrieking woman.
Alan's attention suddenly broke when Relecta's groaning cry reached his ears. He quickly moved ahead, his eyes discerning her form in the steam. Suddenly, her groans turned into screams. Relecta's body contorted in pain as she tore through the steam, standing up with bloodshot eyes and an agape mouth screaming in dread. She saw Alan and Armis and, instead of calming down, clutched her hair maniacally, yanking it with amplifying screams. She began running away, shrieking in pain. Alan gritted his teeth, calling out in vain,
"Relecta!!!!!!!!"
In a burst of speed, he jumped towards her. Extending his hand, Alan almost touched his writhing wife when suddenly the steam around him increased, gnawing at him, enveloping him completely in its suffocating embrace. He touched something, collided with it, and then fell down, his gaze first filling with whiteness before dissolving into darkness.
It hurt. The pain intensified with every breath, his mind teetering on the edge of exploding. What should he feel? One moment, numbness consumed him; the next, it was nothing but stabbing pain. Every sensation inched him closer to death.
"No… No, I won't… I won't give up!!!!"
Alan fought against the pain and numbness, struggling in lethargy and apprehension. His voice tore through the calmness of his lungs, slicing through the dryness of his lips. With a cry, Alan snapped open his eyes.
Once again, Alan found himself enveloped in steam. It was soothing and comforting but not as dense and dreadful as before. His strained, squinted gaze made out the surrounding white walls and the dark floor, riddled with structured pools of hot water, from which the curling steam emitted, filling the air with a comforting fragrance. Alan's concern shifted as he looked around for Relecta, finding her unconscious near his feet. Quickly, he knelt down and scooped her into his embrace. His heart raced as he tapped her limp cheek, calling out to her.
"R..r..Relecta! Relecta!! Wake up!"
His voice echoed in the chamber, mingling with the interval drips of hot water. His eyes, filled with dread and apprehension, softened as Relecta's eyes fluttered open. Her shallow breaths turned into rasping gasps as she moved from Alan's embrace, holding herself up with her hands. Alan placed his hand on her back for support, speaking softly.
"Ev..everything is fine. Do..don't worry, I am here. Nothing is going to h—"
His words sparked Relecta's attention. She turned her gaze, first moistened with strain, then a tear of relief flickered in her eye as she quickly jumped into Alan's embrace. Her tight grip on his body and her wheezing sobs made it clear to Alan that she felt the same agony from the resurgence of bad memories.
As Alan's body calmed from feeling his wife's real warmth, he took a deep breath before gently extracting Relecta from his embrace. Wiping her tears, he attempted a smile, wide enough to convey their shared pain. Relecta halted her sobs, nodding at Alan. She looked around as she stood up, supporting him beside her. A resurfacing dread grew over her as she clutched Alan's hand and asked, "W…what is this place?"
Alan didn't respond. His eyes discerned something ahead, a strange heaviness filling them. Gritting his teeth, Alan resisted the closing eyelids with apprehension, trying to maintain caution despite his body's cries for rest. His gaze remained fixed ahead, and he tightened his muscles, his hold around Relecta's hand suddenly eliciting a confused look from her.
A soft and eerie humming filled the chamber. Pools of hot water and curling steam were all they could see before their eyes widened in sudden shock.
"Rest…." A heavy yet soothing and melodious voice entered the hazy air, threatening to pull Alan back into the deathly embrace of lethargy.
But on time, Alan chewed on his lips, sending piercing sensations of pain through his mind. This counteracted the lethargy by jolting his body awake. Alan's hand was enveloped in crimson smoke before his sword appeared. Seeing the spectacle and the eerie events around her, Relecta let go of Alan's hand. His apprehension and caution washed over her as she raised her fist, pulling in her fingers in dreadful anticipation. Alan also raised his sword ahead, his straining eyes working hard to discern the source of the sudden sound.
"It comes to all who enter these chambers. Unavoidable...the weight of slumber is. Defy it. You cannot…"
"Show yourself!" Alan bellowed, his voice echoing against the cryptic, eerie words. He scanned the room, his eyes straining against the curling steam and pools of water. Even the mundane sight put a strain on his throbbing mind, draining the little energy he had left.
For a moment, only eerie silence answered his retort. Then, the steam before them began to thin, revealing a long, dark silhouette eerily similar to the worm they had encountered earlier. The echo continued.
"The companions, left behind." Alan tightened his grip on his sword, not moving an inch. He fought against the soothing cadence of the voice, which now echoed with unsettling tranquility, linking it to the silhouette.
"They embraced the inevitable. Feeding my strength is their essence. Dreams of their joy become my power."
"What are you talking about?!" Alan yelled again. As the silhouette became clearer, vigilance and resolve filled his eyes. He poised his sword straight, ready to strike without hesitation. The voice resumed after another eerie pause.
"I tell of their desires. I have given them what they wanted. Eternal rest, a beautiful dream, a never-ending slumber… the reward of their resistance, the price of their defiance."
Swish!
Alan's patience snapped. Wasting no time, he moved ahead, his blood rushing, muscles tightening, guiding his limbs. He swung his sword, releasing a swift, fiery slash that illuminated their view. The slash burst through the unending steam, colliding with an unseen barrier of air. The illumination from the burst revealed the silhouette behind the barrier. The sight stripped Alan and Relecta of their vigilance, leaving only apprehension and disgust on their faces.
Behind the invisible barrier lay a brimming stone tub of hot water, housing a long, pimply blob of flesh with shiny, grotesque skin. It resembled the worms but was far more appalling, with no tail or beak on either end. Its clean, pristine, steamy skin had three contortions in the middle, with chunks of flesh hanging out. Each contortion pulsed and shivered, resembling the features of the carved portraits from the emblems.
The cycle had reached its end, and now chaos had appeared.
Alan's mouth hung agape in dread, disgust, and horror as the middle contortion moved. The earlier voice emitted from its flapping flesh, and an eerie chuckle echoed in the chamber before forming words.
"In time, all in time. Your journey, continue. Each step, the weight feel. Each bed, each chair, the pull resist. Know this: delay the inevitable, you only do. Slumber waits for none."
Slowly, Alan's mouth closed, a sudden and horrific realization burned dread from his mind, filling his body with urgency. It was not from the words it just spoke, but from the ones he had heard earlier. Alan's lips curled again, not from disgust but from frustration that rose from his realization. He muttered, "Commander…"
"Yeahhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!——-bhdhaaaaammmmmmm!!!!!!"