Drown In Black

It was dark. Not the darkness of the night, not even one with no stars, when thick clouds covered the sky, enforcing a claustrophobic feeling upon the lands below. No, this was a cloying black, one that seeped into every corner, covered any shape that might have been around. A darkness where sight never existed. Where even the idea of distance was gone, drowned and buried in the shadow. A shadow that never saw light, which light has never spawned.

But still, there was something there. At the edge of the vision one should have, but that seemed gone. A tiny idea, a slight chink in the overbearing black. Not that it could be understood. No, it was just there. And for now, it wasn't irritating. It has always been there. There was no reason it should be regarded as strange.

Instead, a different change took place. As if the concept of sound came back. One that was gone from this place for so long. Suddenly, the air, or whichever medium was around, thrummed with the waves of an unseen source. Suddenly, the ears could hear, could listen. To what, she didn't know.

... It was 'she', right? That concept seemed new. And at the same time, as familiar as well-worn shoes. ... No. It was right. It damn well was right. That was something she would never forget. That fight was done. And this hill she would never abandon.

But that wasn't the issue. What was going on? Where was she? And why she had trouble even understanding basic ideas?

The sound was still there. The one which woke her up. That allowed her scattered awareness to resurface. What was it? It was unfamiliar. It seemed to be coming from every direction, as much as she could guess for those. She remembered hearing. That was a normal sense she had for her entire life. So there was no reason to consider this sound somehow alien. Still, it was. Any sense of time was gone, so she had no idea how long she listened , straining her brain to understand. To force her mind encased in molasses to work, her will still so pitifully weak. But in the end, the sound took on a new quality. Finally, it wasn't just a uniform sensation, now it was starting to seem real, not just as a figment of her imagination, and at the same time some overarching presence she had no way of even comprehending. Now it reminded her of something. The slight changes, short stops, randomly changing... no, actually, the longer she listened, she was starting to be able to make out some structure to it. It... seemed like speech. Like words and sentences, but in a language so foreign, it did not even resemble any other language she had ever heard or known.

The darkness was talking. Talking to her? Or to one in particular? Was she the intruder? Or the recipient?

Now, as she connected the sound to speech, even though she still couldn't understand it, another question surfaced back. Her other senses were still gone. The darkness gripped her in a vice, but there was no sense of touch. She, she realized, couldn't even feel her body. Like she was just floating in nothingness. A mind insulated from all but those words. Now, she could think, yes. She could listen. But she had no idea whether she could interact in any other way.

On some level, she didn't even mind. Her body? What of it. Right now, and honestly, even in the foggy past, she wasn't exactly attached to it. It was her mind that was alive. That decided who she was. Right now, getting her will back, as slow as the process was, had priority. It was her sense of self. The missing body, if she had it right now, would probably just inconvenience her. Distract her. ... First, she had to assess the situation. For that, she needed her thoughts. Not some limbs and what not. Maybe later, she would deal with that. After all, she wasn't particularly keen on staying here, wherever that was. So a way to leave would be needed. A body. Well, she would deal with that once she got there... maybe. If she felt like it.

She didn't know how long it took, but some things were coming back. That darkness was receding. Not the one around, the one in her mind, the one that filled in the shattered parts, those hidden in the fog she had been trying to pierce for... how long? A minute? An hour? A day? Forever?

She remembered the daylight. And the sky dotted with greyish clouds. And finally, the city below them. Encircled by stone walls, in two layers. The moat in front of them. And the gate with a drawbridge that covered the depression, so that one could cross into the city itself. She remembered passing through the gate, alongside many others. Through the gate to hell, she realized. Now, the memories were coming back faster. Both from before and after. Of her days spent in the military. Of those she had known dying all around her. Of the years she spent hidden in the library of a magical institute, isolating herself from the world. Both learning and dealing with her failing mental health. That something that was eating her from inside occupying more and more of her mind. Compared to that time, now, in this exact moment, she felt so much better. As absurd as that notion seemed, right now, her mind was more put together than then. If she could, she would grin. After all, even in the face of her identity almost disappearing, she had managed to anchor herself. If it was her in the past, she would gladly dissolve into nothingness. But that wasn't the worst thing she remembered, was it? Those last few hours were coming back. Those spent in the ghostly city, beleaguered by enemies on all sides, desperately clinging to life, hiding, trying to find a way out.

She remembered. She was hunted. She was chased. And the chase ended in the spider's web. She was caught in its centre, a fly confronted by an apex predator. But she didn't give up, did she? And for that... what? There was something more there, wasn't there? Words. Whispers... no, that wasn't it. It wasn't whispering now. It was here. That sound that woke her up. The same that she had heard before. And with that, she realized. She was on the cusp of hearing properly the entire time. Now, same as before. In this impenetrable darkness, same as in the desperate run for her life. And at that liminal moment, the one that just now arrived into her thoughts, she had crossed that cusp. She had heard the welcome.

Yes, I'm awake, she thought, half intentionally, half on reflex, reacting to the words she still couldn't quite make out. Even if she already had a foothold.

This time, a response came. The thought she had had been pronounced outside her mind, and the darkness reciprocated. That tiny abnormality - now she understood it was an anomaly - moved an inch. And with that, it fully came into her view. Or at least the simile of that. She still had no idea about directions in the place she was in. At best, she was glad to consider it a place at all.

It seemed like a small cut. A small incision made into the fabric of the darkness around. Not shining and also not coloured. But it still wasn't the supreme black of her current confinement. And thus the slight imperfection came to stand at the centre of her attention, the dark shadow surrounded by the absence of light.

She stared at it, unblinking. After all, she had no way to blink. If she had, she still wouldn't. The need to learn everything about it was all-encompassing. It was her imperative now. For if she studied it, there was a chance she would figure out the rest. Rest... right. What was it. Where was it. Where was she. And what was happening.

But it did not want to give up its secrets easily. It weathered her stare like she was not even there. ... Actually, no, she realized some time later. It was staring back. For it was not a cut. That was an eye's pupil, a slit one, but without the eye. That was the discomfort and movement. She had attracted its attention. Now locked in a staring contest, she had no intention to lose. She challenged the one she dubbed her overseer. She wanted answers, and that eyeless pupil was sure to have those.

Answer me, she conveyed with her stare. I don't want your whispers. I don't want this nothingness. She didn't know if it could hear her. She didn't care. Her will was getting stronger, she felt it. Even if scattered, the core of her existence wasn't extinguished and around it, she built herself back up. And after that, she would will herself to move. In this place, this existence between the mind and the reality, her will was her weapon. And as she observed further, it seemed intrigued by that. Somehow, she was able to guess its fascination with her striving. So she would show it what she was capable of. She had already shown it once, in battle. This time, she would show it in a battle of wills. She was not gone, she was not broken. She still wanted to move forward. And as her mind snapped back into place, she realized she had seen this eye before. It was the one that had observed her fight. It still wanted something with her. This nightmarish entity was for some inane reason interested in her.

Welcome.

"You have already said that," she growled in her mind. And this time it had heard her.

Your will to live is strong. Your mind is still present. Most curious.

"Who are you?" She did not want to entertain its musings. She wanted answers, and she would get them. And as it seemed, this entity in front of her was willing to divulge at least some of the mysteries she was now enveloped in.

I'm one of many. I'm the mind and the eye. I'm your patron. I'm Qyrora.

"Patron?" bristled she, remembering what sort of 'patronage' it has given her. She wasn't its toy or pet.

I will bring you to us. I will guide you to the right path.

"Screw you! You think you're some almighty being to dictate us how to live?! Or murdering everyone?! You're just the same tyrant as every other bastard! Let me out of here, you sick degenerate! I'll show you the right path. Right after I tear you a new eye!"

She couldn't shout, but her outburst still shook the place. Ripples spread out through the darkness. She saw that, and pushed. Straining her will, honed through the use of magic, she struck out, forcing the black out. The eye blinked out of existence. And with it, the imaginary walls crumbled. Her will crashed through, finally ending the isolation. She was back. Her senses were waking and her mind was set. She was getting out of here.

The reality weaved itself into the new sensations. She could feel the shifting temperature, smell the stuffy air, the total darkness gave way to the standard dimness of a poorly lit room. She could now feel her hands. Her left hand tried to strain when she wanted, but did not move, stopped by some sort of restraint. But her right did not. She was aware of the arm suddenly ending somewhere at the forearm, the rest either unresponsive or gone. Her head was fixed in place, so she had no way to look. Instead, the ceiling greeted her sight. A ceiling made out of metal plates beaten together by massive nails. It was the same metal she saw on those beings. Dim, warped, but still strong.

She realized the voice had disappeared. And she couldn't see the shadowy monster anywhere, though it could be just outside her field of view. For now though, that was the last thing on her mind. For as she was made aware of more and more of the slick encasement of her body - and what was within it, her thoughts spiralled deeper and deeper. No, it wasn't the unresponsive hand. Nor the inability to move. Instead, the weight of her physical form fell upon her. And with it, all that was wrong with it. What was not that long ago her day-to-day experience, now felt viscerally twisted. It was that time with only her mind, she knew. That blissful moment of weightlessness, when her mind, her sanctuary, was freer than ever before. It was that time that was behind this sinking feeling. Now she knew, now she felt how much better it could be. But then it came back. The curse, the Providence's joke. She did not need to look to know, oh so painfully, what she was given. The hate, the pain was back. She clamped down hard upon those feelings, but still, part of her wished she could go back, even to talk to that insidious, incomprehensible entity. Just to escape this.

She grit her teeth. Staying here, unmoving, was just waiting for her demise. Either that monster would be back - or some other, eviscerating her. Or she would disappear into madness. The despair would consume her first, she knew that. There was nothing to occupy her mind. No way to avoid this spiral. Right now, the analytical part of her mind was still working. But when that failed? No, this would not do.

A thought flashed through her mind. One that elicited a small wolfish grin on her face. Something, some fetters, bound her into this position. And most bindings were made with the assumption the prisoner would want to keep their body intact. But one of her hands was probably already gone. And the rest? After all, she was not attached to it. Much. This would not hold her. She took a deep breath. And pulled. The pain that came from her hand was ignored. The creaking sound coming from her legs was just a proof there was something giving way. Again. Something broke. She didn't know what. She didn't want to know. Be it a part of her body or part of her prison, something just came free. Again. She could move her arm. Again. Again, and finally, she could move her head. Free to look down, she beheld that which served as her confinement.

There, half laying, half standing, was a bed, reminiscent of both a coffin and an operating table. It was black, covered in the ever-present ichor. Which, as she now noticed, also seeped from some places in the surrounding walls. The parts below her were hard, but whether it was metal or something else, she did not know. And had no desire to find out. Instead, she busied herself with freeing the rest of her body, wincing, when she noticed it was naked. For once, and she realized how twisted that was, she was glad for the tar-like substance that covered big parts of it, if not most. She didn't have to look - if she did not have clothes, this black liquid would have to do.

Finally free, she assessed the damage. Her right arm was gone below her wrist, capped off by some sort of sheath similarly black as the ichor, but solid. This black also covered parts of her forearm, in streaks that anchored the sheath, but at the same time ate into her flesh, somewhat paler than she remembered it. One of her legs was looking a bit weird, crooked. She probably wouldn't be able to put her weight on it. Luckily, there did not seem to be anything else broken. Maybe bruised, but that wasn't that much of an issue.

For a moment she wondered, why did these monsters saw off her hand, before she remembered the worst of the wounds she had incurred before. In a way, she could be glad she didn't bleed out and a missing hand on a battlefield was in a way... expected? She couldn't expect a world class healer to be present, after all.

So they treated her, it seemed. Made sure she did not die, the cover, albeit made out of something she had a hard time reconciling with, preventing infection getting in... Though this black material was a sort of infection, was it not?

No time to dwell on this, she chided herself. Slowly, she raised herself up, getting her feet to touch the ground. There were no windows, and the only light was coming from an open door, if the hole in the wall, somewhat framed by metal sheets, could be called like that. That was her destination. It did not seem there was another way out. As it turned out, she really could not properly stand on one of her legs. And thus, she was forced to hobble, helping herself by leaning on the walls. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, she made her way through the room and the subsequent tunnel. She emerged in another room, though with respect to its size more of a hall. For several dozens of metres, it continued on, lit up by hundreds upon hundreds of tiny lights, dotting the walls, and at the same time by a bluish luminescence of vats embedded in-between. These tanks, filled with a somewhat translucent form of the ichor, formed two lines, one on each side, travelling the entirety of the hall. This translucency allowed for the blue sheen to appear, normally hidden by the blackness. It was the same colour as the fog that the expeditionary force was met with, she noted.

As she made her way across the room, she had to pass those. As she got closer, she had finally noticed a detail that had eluded her before. This was not a storage - after all, this liquid could easily replicate itself. There were some things in the tanks. Newly created forms, partway through a much more refined process than the ichor overtaking a pile of corpses she saw before. She was walking through a place of birth of these horrors. Was her being at the absolute deepest part of this place important? Had it some meaning? Or was it just a coincidence? She did not think these... what was the word that eye used? Qyrora? Or was it its own name? She did not think they acted randomly. There was quite obviously a plan, a thought, to their actions. Even to keeping her alive. Why they did that, she wasn't sure. Wondering, she hobbled further. Finally, she reached the end, another door.

But this one was closed. She tried to push it open, straining against the metal. It wouldn't budge. She tried again. And this time, it gave way. Not the door though. Her leg, upon which she put weight properly for the first time. With a short cry, she collapsed to the ground. She cursed, gritting her teeth through the pain that shot up from the broken limb. Now her chance to get out was much lower.

And as if to confirm this thought, footsteps resounded from the other side of the door. Two monsters had arrived, one new, but one oh so familiar. She was grabbed by the larger of the two, the corporeal one. Four muscular arms picked her up. As much as the stocky beast seemed like a brute, it handled her surprisingly gently, carrying her back to the room she escaped not long ago.

The other one, the shadow with an eye, the one she even talked with, the one that had taken some weird interest in her, followed.

You really are stubborn.

"Like I care what you think," she growled.

But you are not running away, not really. You want to know. You want answers. ... I want answers as well. We shall talk.

There was no way to struggle, she knew that. So, begrudgingly, she replied: "We'll talk."