Advent of Eternity - Chapter 17 (Patreon)

Once he got it high enough, Knell pushed his body weight against the door, shoving it the rest of the way open. It swung back and slammed against the floor with a resounding crash.

“A Scion,” Cyll murmured, then broke into another cough. “Figures.”

Knell dug a small stone out of his pocket and crushed it, throwing the powder into the air behind him. It shimmered with faint light for a moment before fading away. Cyll stared up at Knell from within his prison.

“I hold no love for the gods,” Knell said. “Not mine nor any other.”

“Oh?” Cyll asked, squinting up at him. “Out with it so I can agree. What do you want?”

“To kill the gods,” Knell replied. “Every single Shard of the Twelve.”

Cyll blinked, then burst into painful sounding laughter. “Figures that a crazed man would be the one that came after me.”

“A crazed man would be one that had no chance,” Knell said. “Which I believe describes you. After all, you beat me to the attempt roughly one hundred years ago.”

“And look where that landed me,” Cyll growled. He squinted. “Why do you look familiar?”

“So you’re scared now?” Knell asked, ignoring his question. “You gave it your shot and realized it was too much?”

Cyll coughed into his fist. “I’d rip the bastards apart with my bare hands if I could, but you don’t know what I saw. No mortal, even a Scion, could rise up against the Twelve or their Shards.”

“You’re wrong,” Knell replied. “What happened to your promises of doing anything to escape? Are you really so gelded that you fear going against them again?”

Cyll pressed his lips together. “Despite what you might have heard about me, I’m a man of my word. And you could never even begin to fathom what one hundred years of solitude does to a man.”

“I don’t care,” Knell replied flatly. “I’m going to ask you one simple question. If you had the chance to get revenge on them, knowing that you actually had a shot at success, would you take it?”

“Without an ounce of hesitation.”

Knell’s eyes flared. The yellow light pouring out of them filled the room with a brilliant golden hue. In spite of the light, the shadows surrounding him seemed to grow, attaching themselves to his clothes as an oppressive aura radiated out from his body.

Cyll’s eyes widened as Knell let the light fade away. Blood streamed down his face in an uncontrolled river that he did nothing to attempt to stem. Slowly, Cyll started to laugh.

“I knew I recognized something about you,” Cyll said. “How did you get Mordrigal’s eyes? I’ve never heard of one of the Twelve giving their true powers away.”

“A failed experiment,” Knell replied. “Eyes are easily regrown for the primary Shard of the Goddess of Death. Now, I ask you again. If you had a chance to strike out at the Twelve, would you take it?”

“Yes,” Cyll said. “Damn you, yes.”

“Good. Do not share anything that we just discussed with anyone. Not even the half elf that accompanied me here. I used suppressing powder to keep our voices from leaving this room.”

Cyll nodded. “Just get me out of here already.”

Knell walked up to the door, where the dust he’d thrown had formed a faint barrier in the air. He brushed it aside like cobwebs using his staff, then poked his head out. “Stix! Could you come help me out?”

She darted down the hall, her weapons at the ready. When she realized that Knell didn’t look particularly worried, she lowered them slightly. “What?”

Knell waved her inside. “I need your help getting our new friend out of his hole. If you could grab my leg while I lean in for him, that would be appreciated.”

Stix glanced from him to the pit. She chewed her lower lip, then sighed and shook her head. “You’re going to get us both killed.”

Despite her words, she grabbed onto both of Knell’s leg’s tightly as he laid down beside the pit. Knell scooted forward, holding the staff out to Cyll. He winced as the man grabbed onto it, thanking the stars that the white haired man was so emancipated that he weighed even less than Knell did.

Even so, Knell groaned as Stix pulled both of them back up, putting strain on his crippled leg. It only took a few seconds for Stix to pull them both back over the edge, but it felt like minutes.

Cyll scrambled away from the edge, watching it with crazed eyes. His hands hit the water pooling on the ground outside the door and he lunged for it, shoveling it into his mouth as quickly as he could.

He promptly choked on it and doubled over a ragged coughing fit. He continued to try and force the water into his mouth even as he choked.

Stix’s eyebrow arched and she sent a pointed glance at Knell. He only shrugged in response.

“I don’t think that water is very good for drinking,” Stix said.

Cyll stuck his face into it, slurping the greenish liquid from the ground desperately. He sat back a minute later with a relieved groan. “Any water is good for drinking when you haven’t had it for a hundred years.”

“Well, I’m glad to have saved my own supply,” Knell said, raising his water skin. “But if you want to get something other than salty mosswater, we should get out of here.”

Cyll clambered to his feet, unfurling to his full height. He was surprisingly tall, dwarfing both Stix and Knell. His ribs poked out from gaunt skin just barely covered by the faintest remains of rags. Stix tensed.

“I couldn’t agree more, Cap,” Cyll said. “Lead the way.”

“Maybe you should go first,” Stix suggested. “I don’t need you behind me.”

Cyll shrugged and licked his lips. His tongue was uncomfortably long. “Works for me, but I don’t remember the way out. You’ll have to point me.”