Fear me, Love me

What Lurks Beneath

Approaching closer Thorn saw the female Ryder was knelt beside. She was young and pretty. Thorn had flinched at the sight of her eyes. They were cloudy – like curdled milk. Ryder had glanced up at his silent giant.

"Something to say, Thorn?" 

Thorn's gaze had lowered submissively to the ground, subdued by Ryder's inpatient tone. He shook his head. Ryder clicked his tongue. "They tell me she ran down here when we attacked."  Ryder offered, in answer to Thorn's unasked question. Thorn watched Ryder stroke the child's jaw.  "This prison is for an ancient spirit the Mors pack captured some 500 years ago." 

Ryder's lips twitched in a smirk, "or it was. This girl tried to ask it help them. Tried to make it serve her." Thorn's gaze nervously searched the chamber. He wanted Ryder away from this cursed place. "I've never seen anything like this before. Have you?" Thorn had shaken his head. "I'm going to solve this. Even if I have to peel off the skin one layer at a time – I'll find what now lurks beneath."

***

Lauren stood in her cage, her limbs locked and defiant as she tried to hide her disgust. Murias prowled toward her - a gloating monkey in deaths trappings. His wings dragged against the stone and their scrape set Lauren's teeth on edge. As he approached, flames kindled in the brackets - lighting his way and casting long, twisted shadows. The smoke made the air around them flicker hazily and Lauren's eyes watered at the assault.

Murias came to a stop at the bars of her cage.

"Why don't you let me go?" Lauren asked angrily. "You can have the stone throne, the power - I don't want it." 

The warden outstretched a hand, reaching through the bars as if they weren't there at all. Lauren cringed at the sight of that hand. The flesh was grey and gnarled – growths puffed up the stiff fingers and open sores leaked fluid down his wrist.

Trapped, she could only recoil as he stroked her throat. She twisted as much as she could but she didn't dare touch the bars of her cage. She couldn't risk being consumed by her misery.

"But I've been alone here for so long." He purred. "No company but souls that lack substance or desire." Beads of sweat rolled down Lauren's panicked face. His rotted tongue flicked out – trying to trace the lines of his lipless, mutilated mouth.

"I-I will never-"

He laughed breathily, "I'm a patient man." His eyes gleamed with malice. "A hundred years or so. The loneliness will eat you up and you'll be craving any form of intimacy." His clammy finger tips brushed against her lips. "You'll beg me to touch you." Lauren shook her head, disgusted. "You'll want me." He retracted his arm and sniffed his fingers – relishing her scent. "You're mine now."

Thorn stared out at the horizon of towers. Hades had told him how things used to be. The white fields, bowing to a breeze that couldn't be felt.

"I could have made a home for you and your sister there." His father had sounded sad, his head bowed so that his milky hair fell over his midnight eyes, "had Elysium not burnt." 

Thorn's hand went to his pounding chest. The power of Hades roared through his veins like an uncaged beast. He'd never felt strength like this. He found himself catching his breath, as if he were running and not standing still.

Thorn turned suddenly – sensing a malevolent presence. The souls here were tied to a tower and there they remained. This one had no anchor. Thorn frowned in confusion, he could feel its rage. The spirit flickered and suddenly ignited. No longer a wisp of soul it was now a being of flame. Thorn stared at the familiar blue fire.

Maverick danced around the necromancer before coming to stop a few feet away and taking the form of a little boy. A pretty child with russet hair curling at his shoulders and large, grey eyes. He turned and Thorn followed after him - keeping a careful distance between them. The ground trembled beneath the child's light feet. 

No fear showed in Thorn's stoic expression but he knew to be wary. This being was dead but, somehow, it was outside of the necromancer's control. Dead but not part of the world of the dead. A nonconformist to nature's laws.

Maverick led him to the base of a tower. Unlike those he'd already explored with their smooth perfectly symmetrical sides this was one rough. Thorn reached out a touched the cold stone. The tower had been cut with crude tools – like an ancient monolith. 

The entrance Maverick led him through was narrow and forced Thorn to stoop and side step. His chest constricted as the rough walls pressed against his back and stomach. A fine sheen of sweat coated his forehead as claustrophobia threatened. A gentle breeze was his supporter. At last Thorn saw feint light they were headed toward. The closer they got the fresher the air became until they broke out into the open. 

Thorn stared up and around in surprise. He could see the sky. The cave had opened out onto lagoon. The turquoise waters reflected on the dark stones and lush greenery hung down creating an intimate atmosphere. There was no sign of the spirit that had guided him to this place. Cautiously, Thorn approached the water's edge.

The waters looked tranquil but -Thorn noticed with unease - lacked his reflection. Thorn stood still and contemplative. Flowers grew by the water's edge – fat petals of burgundy and mauve dripping with honeyed scents. He'd seen no other traces of nature in this lightening cityscape. He put his hand in the tempting pool and withdraw a palm of cool water. It dripped from his fingers until he had no more. He stared at his hand - twisting it to check the skin. His lips parted in surprise. No scars - his finger pads were smooth – his callouses had vanished. He compared it with his other hand. His wet hand was younger and more beautiful.

Thorn's mind harked back to legends of the fountain of youth. His lips pulled back in distaste and he went to stand up but hesitated. He reached up and touched his ravaged face. The water would heal the burns. For a minute he considered it but his knees clicked as he got resolutely to his feet. There was always a price – his father had taught him that.

"Surprising." Thorn flinched in surprise and turned to face Murias. "I assumed that was why you were here." Suspicion glinted in the Warden's cruel gaze. "I'm not jealous of this treasure. Help yourself." 

Thorn's gaze narrowed.

"You haven't used it."

Murias cackled but no warmth touched his gaze, "you're clever." The metal joints of the Warden's headdress squeaked, causing his jaw to judder. "But if you're not here for the cruel promise of youth – what did bring you to my domain, son of Hades?"

The tip of Murias wing cast ripples over the water's surface as he moved closer to Thorn. "Or," the warden spat blood on ground between them. "Who?" 

Thorn moved fast, reaching out for the undead but Murias was quicker. Thorn cried out as he fell, he reached out but for nothing to hold onto and crashed into the deceptive waters.

He tried to kick his legs, to swim but his limbs were restrained. Panic rose in his throat – he needed air. Thorn thrashed, churning the water until he couldn't see anything for bubbles. His clothes felt heavy and Thorn realised that he was steadily being dragged down. The water, somehow the water was drowning him.