[TLQ-B2] 3. Elder (Patreon)

III

Elder

Metal boots clanged on the silver staircase. Frozen orbs lighted up my path as I descended deeper and deeper.

“I hate pretentious undead.”

I could see the attraction in grand tombs, of course—my own father (what remained of him) rested in a crypt the size of a planet. Yet that didn’t mean I supported them.

Still, the long walk wasn’t entirely unpleasant. The faint imprint of a white brush traced the onyx black walls. The stroke thickened with each step, until it became a solid line, and more brush strokes joined which swirled and connected to form a gust rolling across the walls. On the bottom of the drawing, a snow-covered field expanded. Wide and desolate, the loneliness emanating from the image only worsened as a moon took shape overhead. White lines diverged so the black background gave the impression of silhouettes standing in the snow. Black armour. Damaged faces. The frozen orbs offering me light were placed so they became the glowing eyes of the many dead.

“Intricate,” I whispered.

Pretentious…but tasteful.

More and more dead joined the legion in the painting. They were so numerous the snow on the ground was no longer visible. The dead were all facing the same spot. Their focus was yet invisible to me.

The staircase evened out, putting me in a hallway with a gate at the end. It crawled open as I approached, sucking in a great breath of cold air—as if the gust over the field was feeding it.

My eyes adjusted against the light pouring from within. Walls rose and circled higher than I could see, and the painting grew with them. There was a raised dais in the centre, which formed the base of a column covered in runes. The markings were not active. Likely, because of the missing core in its middle.

‘That’s a nexus.’ They acted as the core of many fledgling undead strongholds.

I pushed against my rising heartrate. ‘This place. Could it be…’

Gaze moving down, my eyes fell on an ornate chair sitting in the shadow of the column. One not unlike the chair I’d seen upon meeting Moonwalker for the first time. A throne of frost. Solemn. Bigger than any human had a use for.

It was empty—no, no it wasn’t. A spherical shell as white as bone rested in the chair.

Before investigating, I turned to the rest of the room. There was another entrance in the west quadrant, yet another in the east. I walked some ways along the pathway circling the throne and discovered another one behind it.

I sent an undead towards each and made them place a hand on the entrances.

[Chamber of Ruin]

Requirement: Completion of [Chamber of Despair] and [Chamber of Genesis].

The Chamber of Ruin was the on in the north. Despair was in the west, Genesis in the east.

[Chamber of Despair]

Requirement: Completion of [Chamber of Genesis].

[Chamber of Genesis]

Requirement: Activate the seal.

Seal…that could only be referring to one thing. Pulling back my other undead, I had one inspect the throne and the item on top. The sphere wasn’t attached to the throne and fit snuggly in the palm of the orc.

I turned it around—

[Seal of the Dead]

—and hummed. Was it sealing the dead, or was it a seal of the dead?

‘Perhaps my ancestor sealed her mind inside.’ That wasn’t an unheard of tactic, though usually a last resort so an undead who had their vessel badly damaged could spend time recovering. Undoing the seal would fall to a close associate of the undead as they couldn’t exit it themselves.

Many rulers choosing the wrong necrons to trust had found themselves in eternal sleep like this, their seals thrown into the deepest reaches of the void so none would ever find them again.

I brushed the sphere with my senses to confirm my suspicions. Something pulsed inside. Quietly. Like the rise and fall of a baby’s chest in the womb.

‘As I thought.’

Without wasting more time than needed, I pushed a strand of my miasma into the orb. The energy burrowed into the sphere and latched onto the pulse. Lightly. So as to not make the awakening uncomfortable.

The pulse paused. Tasted my power, then devoured it and grew.

I placed the sphere on the chair and backed away. It was rude to hold your ancestor.

‘Should I bow?’

I would no doubt be older than the ancestor inside this sphere, so strictly speaking I was the elder. However, since I was in the body of Sepharin Vrost…

‘There’s no need to complicate things.’

So I lowered myself. After thinking on it for a moment, I also took off my helmet.

The sphere rode an invisible current and rose from the chair. Light bubbled out of the shell. Two protrusions grew out the side, two from the bottom.

‘Now,’ I thought. ‘I wonder what she’s like.’

The Dread Empress. The one the spirits of this realm still spoke of with reverence many years after her death, who’d battled what may very well be a demon Lord over five hundred times.

A dress formed over the growing limbs, whose ends reached slightly beyond the horizontal surface of the throne. My face remained passive…until black heels formed inches above the ground. I raised a brow as white stockings fell over slender legs and vanished beneath an ice-blue dress marked with black lines. Fingers too small to fully grip locked around the armrests. Hair the shame shade as the stockings cascaded down the side of her head.

Her face was fair…and young.

I schooled my expression and refrained from blinking. “Ancestor, this filial descendant welcomes your return. My name is Sepharin Vrost—daughter of Hildegarde and Alvander Vrost. You may call me Sepharin.”

Calling her by her official title was more respectful, but I wasn’t one hundred percent certain that this was Morgathis.

“Hildegarde…that makes you my great granddaughter. Your welcome is appreciated.“ Her tone had the high pitch of a child.

There was the whistle of cloth, and then the clanging of heels on the floor. She circled me. “You’re big.”

“A product of my roots,” I said. “My ancestors were blessed.”

“Blessed?” she snorted. “Smart, is what you mean, child. If it wasn’t for me, our entire lineage would’ve stayed runts.”

She hadn’t yet told me to raise my head, so I could only spy on her face from an awkward angle. Still, I could see she was smiling.

Her slender fingers reached out to touch my legs. “Definitely big.” Then she nodded to herself as if she was proud of her work.

Finally, she returned to her seat. “My lovely granddaughter, you may rose your head.”

My muscles lengthened. The ancestor stared up at me from her throne like a proud mother, her smile beaming brighter for each inch more I towered over her. Seeing her like this, questions couldn’t help but float to the forefront of my mind. I was careful to keep them to myself.

“You have questions,” she said.

‘Not careful enough, I suppose.’

After considering whether to lie or come out with it, I said: “Dread Empress, is there—”

“Uh-uh.” she crossed her arms. “Don’t call me that.”

I blinked. Wasn’t that her official title, though? ‘Could be that she hates it.’ Titles weren’t always chosen by the bearer.

“Morgathis?” I tried.

Now she waggled her finger. “Last chance. If you guess wrong, I’m closing the tomb.”

My forehead scrunched up. Exiting the tomb right away may be more beneficial depending on what was happening outside, but I wasn’t planning on leaving here empty-handed. Moreover, she may be closing the tomb without letting me leave.

‘Can she even do that?’ She had no mana signature, meaning she was more an echo than an actual being…but testing her was stupid.

She patiently waited for me choose a name. As I wasn’t aware of any other one, I took her demeanour as a hint and took a gander.

“Grandmother?”

Silence echoed through the chamber.

Until she squirmed in her seat, rubbed her feet against each other, and placed her palms on her cheeks. “What a beautiful sound!” She continued to revel in the fading echoes of the sounds before whirling on me. “Say it again!”

“…Grandmother.”

Which elicited another round jubilation so fierce she began dancing in her seat.

‘She’s certainly…eccentric.’ Not quite what I expected of the Dread Empress, but then I’d heard stranger stories from my father. Living for a long time was a good way to gain quirks others would consider abnormal.

Her mirth continued for long enough that I cleared my throat.

“Sorry, Sorry,” she said after regaining control of herself. “What is it you wanted to ask?”

“…Is there a reason you chose this form, Grandmother?”

“This form?”

“Your child-like appearance,” I specified. “Surely, you had a choice as to how you would appear.”

“Ah.” She tilted her head and rested her chin on her palm. “This is my true appearance, child. Did Gunther not tell you?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know who that is, Grandmother.”

The smile which’d adorned her face since the start of our conversation retreated. “He’s not the one who led you here?” She cupped her chin. “If it wasn’t him…did Mir’Djinn guide you here?”

‘Mir’Djinn…sounds like a demon name.’

“The entity who brought me here was a demon going by the name of ‘Cebas,’ though I was also pointed in this direction by a spirit named Arthek.”

“Cebas is the alias he uses in the mortal plane,” she sighed. “That means Gunther has fallen…” she looked down and quieted.

I didn’t disturb her. Waking up after so much time was always a shock. Acquaintances that’d been destroyed. Customs that’d changed. A world that’d left you behind.

“Arthek,” she chuckled. “I can’t believe that chick is still alive. Did he show you around his clan?”

“I didn’t get an invite, I’m afraid.”

Her tiny palm slammed on her armrest. “How rude! Have they forgotten their promises?! No, they must think they can walk all over us now that we’re weakened…” From the way her gaze pierced a point in the distance, she must be coming up with ways of punishing their transgression.

I held up my hand. “Grandmother, please. I’m not aware of the spirit’s current situation, but no one has seen a spirit of the land for years. My meeting with him was my first time seeing one as well.”

Her vice grip on her chair relaxed. “I see…the War must’ve been a blow to them, too.”

There was no other seat for me to take, so I shaped one from ice opposite her throne.

“This War, could you tell me more about it, Grandmother?”