Ezthamic's Arc

Chapter 5 of 7

Ezthamic stood at the top of the stairway. Cold air rose from the dark. He could not see the steps or what waited below. The deep heartbeat struck again beneath him. He needed light, or he needed a way to feel the way down. He tore a strip of cloth from his sleeve and dropped it. He never heard it land. So he pressed his palm to the stone wall and forced his skin to change. Black veins spread down his fingers. Bone hardened over his hand and gripped the rock. He climbed down the wall instead of trusting the stairs, testing each hold before he trusted it. His hand met flat ground. He let his eyes shift. His pupils widened until the dark turned gray. A wide chamber opened before him. Crimson roots covered the floor and ceiling, thick as his arm, pulsing like veins. Clear bulbs hung among them, glowing with colored fluid. The roots throbbed in time with the heartbeat. He had found the source. A pale woman stood among the roots. Her eyes were solid black. Symbols marked her arms. She watched him with no fear. She raised one finger, and red light bled from the tip. She wrote in the air. "You came back." "I've never been here," Ezthamic said. His heart pounded. He did not know this woman. Her finger moved again. "Your heart is loud. They will come." He heard it then. Thin limbs scraped stone in the tunnels. Something without eyes and ribs bare sniffed toward the sound of his pulse. Nyra pointed at a shape on a root shelf. A black mantle of hardened flesh and bone plates, threaded with red veins. He pulled it over his shoulders. It clamped tight and warm against his chest. His heartbeat vanished from the room. The scraping stopped, confused, then faded. Nyra touched a thick root. It curled and pulled back, opening a path. He followed it deeper. The roots led him to a sealed thing of black bone and dark flesh. It looked like a chest, but it breathed. When he came near, it split open on its own, as if it knew him. Inside sat a small black sphere, cracked with glowing red lines. It beat like a tiny heart. Beside it lay a dark crystal shard. He touched the shard. A vision struck him. A cavern. A figure with his build, his stance, standing where he stood now, centuries gone. The face would not come clear. He pulled his hand back, shaking. Vhalgor's last words returned. Ask the world. He lifted the pulsing sphere in both hands. "Who am I?" he asked. The roots stilled. The bulbs dimmed. The whole chamber drew breath. Then the heartbeat answered inside his skull, vast and awake. "Which time?" Ezthamic dropped to one knee. The land knew him. It had known him before. And it remembered more than he ever could.