Fatebound Journey

Ch. 1 - Shadows of the Shattered Citadel

Élrick felt the vibrations from the spinning mechanism at the top of the Dread King's Castle tower. Whump-whump, whump-whump, whirr-whirr-whirr, the sound reverberated off of rock and palisade nearby. A procession of pointed pillars lined the pathway leading to the stone steps of the castle entrance. Skulls were strewn across the path, as though to deter any visitors from venturing further. But a Hero would not be so easily discouraged.

Bodies of defeated monsters piled next to the steps made for an equally eerie sight. Excellent work, my friends. I can only hope they left no stragglers. I'm not certain I could handle beasts such as these on my own. Élrick's companions had gone ahead of him to make the castle entry secure. Now, he needed only to catch up to them, and they would each use their key to unlock the door behind which the Dread King lurked. There, they would vanquish him once and for all.

He steeled his nerves and marched forward, trusting that his allies had cleared the path ahead. Looking about, he certainly did not see any enemies in sight. The castle rested upon an enormous chunk of land, suspended high above the earth by dark magic beyond Élrick's understanding. Many scholars had labored over countless texts to discover the passage sphere that led them to the unholy island. They had arrived in such haste and hubris that they had overlooked a vital element to their plan.

Élrick now recalled that, before leaving home, the great sage had instructed him to seek the 'Blessing of Samanthis' before opening that great and terrible door. Unfortunately, the wise-man elucidated no further than that. But Élrick was well accustomed to the graces of the goddess, having been taught her ways since he was a boy and placed his faith in the sage's words that the 'Blessing of Samanthis' would be of great aid in his battle against the Dread King. His friends, however, were less convinced.

Most places in the world no longer recognized the old ways. Élrick was not sure if there were any kingdoms, other than his homeland Gauloria, that still honored the goddess. The lands his associates hailed from certainly were not among them. As such, they were not wholly united on this front and the rest of the party had been reluctant to backtrack, eager to rid the land of darkness. But Élrick wanted to leave nothing to chance. They struck a compromise. He went back to secure the blessing while they continued on to scout out the castle.

The tall portal of the keep looked heavy, but as Élrick gave it a gentle push, it creaked open. The interior was even less welcoming than the road leading to it. He squinted to make out anything in the inky darkness of the entryway. It was lit only by a few candelabra, giving little comfort to those who entered. He suppressed an urge to flee, something he had not contended with since he was a boy.

He stumbled forward until he found himself in the grand central chamber of the keep. Although his vision was still limited, the chandeliers hanging overhead provided more light than the foyer. Painted portraits leaned and lurched, straining off their hinges to follow his every move. Support columns swayed and danced, as if ready to topple onto his path at any moment. A gang of Necro-Slorbles had set up shop near the spiral staircase to the west. It was clear this room had not been secured.

To his left were a grand pair of doors. Next to them sat a steaming cauldron beneath a hanging metal cage. The doors were locked tight, but in the far corner behind the cauldron, two steel levers rested on the floor. Élrick walked over and pulled one. He immediately heard scraping metal behind him. Glancing back, he saw the bottom of the cage had swung open, pouring out a skeleton into the cauldron. Within seconds, the bones began to boil and evaporate before his eyes. A sickening white vapor emanated from the pot.

"If only ye'd gotten here sooner, laddie. We might still be wi' ye." The chant sounded eerily like Culainn's voice, one of Élrick's friends. A ghost? Had he perished? He could hardly believe it. Culainn, the strongest warrior he knew, had fallen. Could this mean the others had succumbed to defeat as well? He had tarried too long and his companions had paid the price.