ELDRITCH NIGHT (Rough Draft)

Chapter 46: Volatile Responses

This was only my second interaction with a dungeon core, but I was beginning to form an understanding of them. Each contained some deep emotion that colored and shaped the energy it produced. Perhaps this was not only true for the cores, but eldritch energy in general.

I kept my eyes closed and launched myself forward. By blocking off my more mundane senses I could see the phantoms for what they were, constructs meant to torment me. The were pale echoes of that which should long ago have faded into death; no more real than my own illusions.

I felt the resistance increase as I broke through the ring of specters. This only caused me to increase my speed. I was battered back by wind and an invisible power, but I refused to be slowed. Each step forward was an agonizing ordeal, like molten lead had been poured into my limbs.

I had reached the limit of my pain tolerance, and fear made me doubt my actions. I could turn around and save myself. Was this really that important? The voices whispered, but I ignored them and carried myself forward through sheer spite.

The pain and pressure nearly broke me both mentally and physically.

But then it stopped. I opened my eyes and found myself floating in darkness. Around me was a near perfect void, but I could still make out the fog and electricity just outside the small bubble of nothingness. I breathed inward but my chest tightened and cramped. My heart began to beat erratically, and my hands grew cold and clammy. I clutched at my chest and noticed a trail of vapor rising from my fingertips. I exhaled, relieving some of the pressure, but I soon felt a bubbling sensation on my tongue and eyes.

My vision blurred, and I began to feel light headed.

I pushed down the desire to run as every nerve in my body cried out for relief. Instead, I ran forward. My fear and regret rose with each step, but a surge of vindication rose up within me when an object came into view.

The pedestal was small, and half hidden in shadow. It was no higher than my waist and had a wide circular platform at each end. It was like a small table; it's top was plated in copper and curved inward like a bowl. The column depicted carvings of human sacrifice and dismemberment being watched over by a great eye wreathed in flame. The eye looked familiar, but so too did the pillar. I had seen it before, long ago.

I just couldn't place where.

Placed atop the pillar was a small, faintly glowing stone. It was perfectly centered atop the dais and had been partially wrapped in purple velvet lined with gold stitching. Splintered cracks of fiery red crisscrossed the stone as if it were coal freshly pulled from the fire. A heavy stream of eldritch energy poured out of the stone and into the sky like thick, black smoke.

I tried to speak in my excitement, but my lungs were empty. I was unable to form the words. The stone was a smooth sphere rather than a heart, and the color was different than what I had been shown, but this was clearly a dungeon core. One much more powerful than what Sebbit used during his show and tell.

With such a stone I could have a near infinite amount of eldritch energy to shape and command as I wished. Its uses were limitless. It could power spells, formations, and could probably be used to create dungeons - hence the name. I had a different plan in mind for it. One that should cause Sebbit and his Peacekeepers to take notice.

Anything that released this much energy would only have one reaction if that energy were no longer able to vent. As the energy built up, so too would the pressure it created. The result would no doubt be powerful, but I had no idea how long it would need to be contained before becoming critical.

I reached out and took the stone with my right hand and folded the purple cloth around it. As my fingers brushed the surface of the sphere, small arcs of lighting struck my hand, causing the hair on my arm to stand on end. I was surprised that the black colored arm could be affected in such a way. Many fantastical things had crossed my path recently, and yet this was one of the few to take me aback.

The arm was a construct of pure energy, and yet it seemed to follow all the rules of flesh and blood. It even tingled slightly at the touch of electricity. I just couldn't understand why it would do so – it was no more flesh than any other construct I had created. Perhaps it was as simple as feeling what I expected it to, much like how amputees could still feel phantom limbs.

Regardless, I had the core. I turned and walked out of the dome of darkness and swirling energy. With the core in hand I encountered none of the obstacles that had slowed me on my way in.

Finally, my foot came down on grass and the outside world became visible once more. I could see amber fields flanked by hills and tall trees beneath a dim and reddening sky. The air was still heavy with fog, but it clung low to the ground, swelling and falling with the turns and hills of the earth.

I shaped a fold of eldritch energy in my arm and placed the core within it. I could feel a slight tingle as the arm began to absorb as much energy as it could hold. It didn't feel any stronger, but it would be more durable, and I would have an extra store of energy to call on for a rainy day.

I began to leave but turned back when I heard a sound that was halfway between cracking glass and the gentle song of wind tossed chimes. A single note reverberated for a moment, clinging to life briefly before fading into silence. The wall of the dome was now a smooth plane, no longer was the surface of the dome dancing with crimson sparks. The golden runes still spiraled upwards but were beginning to slow and fade.

The structure supporting the entire dome was beginning to weaken. The dome had stopped spinning and was no longer slowly contracting. It was still an effective barrier but no longer threatened to crush everything that was contained within. I mentally cursed. I had known this would happen, but I was hoping to be able to get at least one more core before it did.

Telvy worked much slower than I did, but she would destroy her core soon and the entire dome would collapse. Once that happened she would rush back to join Sebbit at the Yorktown. I had to get there first.

I began to run back towards Patriot's Point, where the old aircraft carrier was moored. I moved forward with explosive speed, each step flinging clumps of dirt and grass behind me. My stride would send me forward several meters with each step, and I felt as though I were floating above the ground. My path was a straight line, so I quickly reached the outskirts of the pier. I leaped above a short concrete barrier and plowed through a chain-link fence as if it were cobweb.

Gunfire and bestial roars rang out to the south. When Sebbit had freed me, he had claimed to be going to personally oversee the battle, and it was unlikely that he would leave many guards at the Yorktown. To him this great piece of American history was nothing more than a temporary base.

Hopefully my errand wouldn't take long. I would have to join the battle soon myself, but it was important to make a proper entrance.

Finding a single prisoner on an aircraft carrier seems like a difficult prospect, especially under time constraints. I had the advantage of knowing how the Peacekeepers kept their prisoners. I was especially familiar with how they kept those they considered corrupted by the eldritch. The energy was light here, only the smallest wisp remained, but it still flowed freely through the passages and bulkheads of the old ship.

I identified several spots that were completely sealed off from the eldritch energy. They stood out like beacons to my sight. They may as well have been black holes floating in a sea of white.

It was time to go see an old friend.