*
The dark spruce door slammed behind them, its metal studs sealing George and Dream into darkness.
Shhk!
The grating sound of lighting a match echoed through the empty hallways, a watery light splashing over the edges of Wilbur's lantern and onto the cobblestone floors. "Come on then," He whispered, seemingly afraid of the way his voice bounced off the walls and cocooned around them, "And be quiet!"
George marvelled at how quickly his life seemed to have turned around. There he was, lost in the Overworld; but he had never felt more found. It was bound to be so, he presumed, that of course the first taste of freedom he would be attached to.
A shiver from the man next to his drew his thoughts back to the present. They had entered the brooding castle from a dusty side door, and now crept down a dank hallway, gusts of frigid wind billowing down shadowed corridors and whipping the back of George's knees. Noticing how dim the lamplight was getting ahead, George shuddered and hurried back to the group.
Wilbur led them down a seemingly endless maze of twisting corridors and winding hallways, batting away trailing cobwebs reaching their ghostly fingers down for the boys. The castle was not open, or grand; it was dense, for the windows studded into the walls simply opened on to other corridors letting no light in at all, and dark moss and vines threatened to choke the castle from inside out. More often than not, Wilbur spun on his heel and made off down another corridor, for the one they were traveling down was smothered in dark vines, their brambles sharp and held at the ready.
After what seemed like hours stumbling along in the rough light, Wilbur set the lamp on the ground and leaned into the darkness. Though George and Clay stayed within the light's safety, they strained to make out anything, but they were surely lost in the bowels of the castle.
A dull thud and a scraping noise wrapped around George and Dream, almost dizzying in the way that it slammed up against the barriers of light, circling them like a predator circling its prey.
"Got it!"
At Wilbur's voice, Clay started, pressing against George's side.
"Alright boys, stay close. It's pretty precarious..." Wilbur intoned, suddenly appearing behind George.
"Come on then, we haven't got all day. I've found the door."
With that, Wilbur ventured beyond the light and beckoned for them to follow. The two shuffled towards the louder grunting and scarping coming from the dark. With his foot, Dream edged along the heavy iron lantern to cast more light on Wilbur and the mystery of what he was doing.
He was shoving large boxes towards the edges of the corridor, unveiling a solid door that seemed to be carved out of the wall itself. It was a sheet of slate, seeming thick as a log and studded with metal bands. Strange runes George had only seen in enchanting books were littered around the helm, seemingly wild and ancient and carved into the stone.
Hauling open the door with a pained grunt, Wilbur snatched the lantern off the ground and ushered the boys onto the top step of a dizzying stairwell that seemed to descend into the dark depths of the Earth. The door slammed shut behind them, sealing them into the stairwell like skeletons in a tomb. All George had for solace was the lamplight sticking to their feet and Clay's hand, which he hung onto like he was drowning.
"I know you are not talkative, which is good. But you need to listen carefully. Do not make a sound. Do not stumble. Above all else, stay close. Do not stop going down these stairs, no matter what you hear. Do not stop going down these stairs, no matter who you hear. Do not hold on to each other. It will use that against you. I cannot tell you what other horrors sleep in the bowels of these stairs, for I do not know. What I do know is that the Warden is listening for you. I cannot help you anymore. I will see you at the bottom, if the steps deem you worthy."
Wilbur's eyes, normally twinkling with a smirk, were dark and shrouded in doom. With that, he turned to hurry down the steps, dousing the lantern with a quick jerk and plunging the boys into inky darkness.
. . .
A scream bubbled in George's throat, and he opened his mouth to yell for Wilbur, don't leave them there, don't leave them alone in the dark - a warm, strong pressure enveloped his wrist. George felt the rough pads of Clay's fingers smooth down his skin, play over his fingertips, and take his hand into them.
"You heard what he said," Clay's voice rumbled behind George as he pressed his chest to George's back,
"Be veeery quiet" He whispered, his breath tickling George's ear as his hands slid down to cup George's waist, angling his hips against George's and dry thrusting into him ever so slightly - a voice cut through the lust induced fog in George's head.
"Do not hold onto each other. He will use this against you..." The memory was as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown onto George.
Pushing back whatever was behind him, he fled down the steps, one hand tracing along the wall. The walls seemed to push against him, trying to trap him in their claws. He was practiced in moving quickly yet quietly thanks to living around his father, and his feet were soft and light on the rough floor.
Though the Prince was graceful, he could not help but barely keep his balance on the uneven ground, for after hours running round and round, the bitter cold seemed to seep from the floor and into his bones, wearying him.
George gritted his teeth and slowed, and tried his best to strain for a glimpse of anything to keep his mind off the fact that his feet felt like lead: but to no avail. The darkness surrounding him felt thick, like a stiff cloak of ebony velvet draped across his shoulders.
Though any and all sound echoed around him, George could not hear Dream or Wilbur; in fact, he could not her even the slightest pebble being kicked down the stairs by them or see a shape of another person. He wasn't too surprised though - he could not even see his pale hand when he waved it in front of his face.
Finally, George stumbled, and fell to the ground, lasting hard on his tailbone. George made to get up - but it felt as if hands pressed down against his shoulders, keeping him down and George realised just how tired he was.
No, keep going. Remember what Wilbur said, you need...you need to-
"Don't listen to that. Sit down a spell and rest. You're so very tired, aren't you? You feel so empty and cold, don't you? Go on, rest. Rest."
George nodded along with the voice, it overpowering his own feeble thoughts. The voice was right, he was tired; though now that it had said something, he felt so, so empty, like something had come and gobbled up all the strength he had left. Wrapping his arms around his knees, George curled up on the step, pressing his face onto the cold stone. And that's when he heard it. A voice, curling around his ear and slithering down his back like a fanged serpent.
"George. George, can you hear me? I can see you. I can see the real you. I am watching you. I know what you fear."
George shut his eyes and squeezed his legs tighter, shuddering violently.
"You do not surprise me, curled up on that step. You are weak. You are nothing. You are worthless. Look at you, you are pathetic. Alone."
George's mind tried to scream, but it sounded like little more than a breath. The voice had bubbled and morphed, turning into the metallic sneer of his Father.
"Clay... doesn't...love me?"
His Father's harsh laugh rumbled through the stairwell.
"You pathetic, pathetic fool! Of course he doesn't love you. He's left you, abandoned you. He never loved you. His feelings were only pity. He hates you. Loathes you. You're an embarrassment to anyone around you, of course you are. He's ashamed of you. He hates being seen with you. Oh, you don't believe me? Look around you. Look, there he is."
A glimmer of light spread in the dark and sparked behind George's eyelids. Slowly opening his eyes, he could see the outline of a door, just a few steps below him. The door creaked open, revealing Wilbur and Clay locked in an embrace.
"George isn't coming, right?" Clay laughed, pulling away and nuzzling Wilbur's neck.
"No, he's long gone. Probably dead, if we're lucky."
Wilbur arched his back against the door, sneering at George from over Clay's shoulder.
"Good. I never loved that bastard anyway." Clay laughed again, falling back into Wilbur before slamming the door behind them. All George got was a glimpse of his face before the spark of light vanished, taking with it his last sliver of hope.
George felt as if he had been punched. It felt as if someone had reached into his chest and cut his heart into tiny little pieces that splintered and pierced his flesh. A dry sob racked through George's but no sound came out. He wasn't sure when he had started crying, but the tears puddled on the icy step and burned at his raw eyes.
"See? You can't trust him. You can't trust anyone, but me. I am all you have. I can make the pain go away, make the cold go away. I can make it all stop. Would you like that? To stop the cold? I know you would. I can see you, but I can't find you. All you need to do is make a sound, to let me find you. Come along, Georgios. My child. I will never betray you, never lead you astray. Just make a sound. Tell me where you are."
The smooth voice from before crooned to him, the words trickling down George's throat like sludge. They curled behind his ear, bursting from the dark, a million spiders crawling through George's brain.
Something was not right. George frowned, loosing his grip on his knees. What was wrong? What the thing had said made sense. So why did he feel so strange... George's sluggishly tried to remember what he had seen. Something about Clay was not right, and the thought troubled him at the back of his brain, straining to get free.
Then, through the fog of pain, through the icy clouds in his brain, it struck him.
"Hurry, now. Where are you Georgios? Help me find you. You have no one, other than me. Everyone else has left you. Now tell me where you are!"
The voice urged him on, a hint of desperation flooding it. But the thought became louder, and louder, and sent a shine into his dull eyes. Eyes.. eyes!
In the vision, his beautiful, twinkling eyes, normally the soft shade of moss in a forest, a jade necklace, the grass dancing in the breeze in a valley meadow, had been a hollow and empty black. No shine, none of the usual luster and passion firing them; just a black hole, devoid of emotion. Strength flooded back into George's veins, like he had been struck by lightning.
"You are alone! Pathetic! Pitiful! I am all you have, I can make the pain stop if you TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE!"
The thing bellowed at him, shaking the step beneath him and sending stone sediment breaking from the ceiling. Standing up, George couldn't help the involuntary
"No!" That ripped from his throat. A metallic shhinng, like nails being grated on metal, echoed throughout the chamber.
"It doesn't matter now," The thing leered, an unhinged scream colouring its voice,
"I'm coming for you Georgios! The Warden is coming!"
A guttural, raw, scream shredded from the Warden's throat as lumbering footsteps resounded in the stairwell. Clutching his ears and clambering to his feet, there was only one coherent thought in George's mind - to run. George fled, not caring anymore about how his feet slapped on the ground and reverberated down.
He dashed down the stairs, eyes wide and hand still grazing the wall, down and down and down. The Warden still chased him, still screaming and grating it's claws on the walls. George's breath was heavy and thick in his lungs, but still he continued to run, darting over fallen stones and brushing away vines.
"Please," He begged in his mind, "Please let me find the door soon. If anyone is up there please -" George hurtled into something solid, slamming his nose into hard wood. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" George thought, almost hysterical as he scrabbled around the door for the handle.
His nails were being ripped from the beds as he tried to tug the door open, staining his hands crimson with blood. He could hear the Warden's steps behind him slow as the smell of rotting flesh, wilted flowers, the smell of must and decay coated in thick blood filtered through his nostrils. It panted, coming closer to the bottom of the stairs.
"I cannot come through that door, as the people from long ago planted wards I cannot break. But if no one opens the door for you, I can keep you. That is the rule. My rule. And you will be so sweet Georgios. So good to eat. Meat tastes best after it's been properly tortured and frozen with fear, I think. So come on George. The door isn't going to open. Like I said, you're alone. So come up the stairs. I'll make your death swift and painless, if you do."
George gagged, the scent of the Warden cloying and syrupy under his tongue. He abandoned all rational thought and banged on the door, curling his hands into fists as he yelled.
"Please!" he sobbed hysterically, eyes darting wildly and fists getting bloody. "Please let me in, I'm George, I'm right here, PLEASE!"
The Warden's hand, a great paw matted with grime and blood, with humanoid fingers and blunt talons, reached into the stairwell and swung for George. Just as it had grazed the back of George's back, George had pressed his body up as close to the door as he could to scream "It's me, PLEASE!" and the Warden let out the haunting wail of just before a fresh kill, the door swung open and slammed, sending George tumbling into light and warmth.
. . .
guess who's back... ;)
it's been almost a month?? since i last uploaded. crazy. life got very hectic for me but i will in fact be writing more and trying to get one, maybe two chapters out a week. it's lovely to be back. to be honest, i was going to give up on this, but your amazing comments kept me going. thank you! i really enjoy reading them all. and 7k reads?? when did that happen? i cannot thank you guys enough. its absolutely insane to me that people actually enjoy my writing.
i was rereading this fic and realised how much my writing had deteriorated as my chapters progressed. i think it's because the last few i had been writing on little to no sleep at 3am smh. now that i have a relatively good sleep schedule, im trying to upgrade my quality. any feedback is greatly appreciated.
please keep in mind that when i format this into paragraphs so its not just a chunk of text and its a bit easier to read, i format on my laptop which is why it might be weird on mobile.
as always, have a great day. you deserve it.
make sure to comment and vote.
xo, minecraft idiot
. . .
edit: picture the staircase in the image on the header, just pitch back w no railings or windows. sorry for the long a/n too oops