Page 55 of Dark Fae's Destiny

We’re alone in a void beneath the first Florence of the Ascendants—the place where Staphylogenes hid his heart. It is the one place Ascendants would never go, I know, as I feel death all around me in this place.

Because whatever happened to the city above not only ruined it, and this entire Realm—it ruined countless Ascendants, as well. It twisted and morphed them into unknown creatures, as they Fell so abominably from whatever calamity happened in the first Florence they created. They could never be redeemed, even by their own cohort; and so they were banished here, beneath their first city.

Left down here to rot.

Their souls seethe around me now, as Ariana, Lucca, and I draw back-to-back, terrified. We take Faeanic spears from our thigh-holsters, as whatever it is down here spirals in. Whatever still exists here is not even close to perturbed by us. It thunders in anger now that we have entered and desecrated this space.

The space it now calls home.

Forever.

20

TRAPPED

As we come into the catacomb of Staphylogenes’ tomb beneath Florence of the Ascendants, I realize we’ve entered the stillest place. Though an intense fear vibrates through me now at the wrathful presences I’m feeling all around, I also sense this is the epicenter of the still-point between Realms I had been sensing before I fell through the golden rift to nowhere.

This is not nowhere, however; this is an actual place, as I understand its function. Created by the ancients to anchor all Realms into the very fabric of reality, it is one of many still-points that exist in the universe.

Here, but nowhere—all at once.

Like an ancient underground catacomb, the still-point goes on and on. This place has no Music, I realize, as I face an intense silence here, except for the sound of Quinn’s, Lucca’s, and my heartbeat and frantic breath.

Our individual Fae powers don’t even work, as we try to raise our auric wings and can’t, shivering with fear in this space. Our Music does not rise here, either; and it won’t, I understand suddenly, because this is not a place that creates. It is a place to house and store things which have been created.

Things which have been ruined forever—unredeemable even by the Music itself.

“It’s like an endless storage cellar.” I risk speaking, though I must communicate this to Quinn and Lucca. I can feel how even our connections to each other have been nullified by this place. Whatever power exists here can take away everything that connects us; not just our Dark Fae connections to the Music, but to each other, as well.

Even to our own innate magic.

“A storage cellar for evil.” Lucca’s voice is a growl, low and furious now. He’s realized along with the rest of us that our Faeanic spears aren’t working here, either; they aren’t lengthening out into the bright killing-blades they should be in this place.

As I try to cast a simple sigil with my short blade, nothing happens. Nothing of my magic can manifest here, nor Quinn’s or Lucca’s, as we all try a bit of magic in this place.

“It’s a void,” Quinn says now as he tucks his spear back in its thigh holster, though he keeps his hands ready as we turn a slow circle in our back-to-back knot. “It’s a place that tethers all of reality together, but where that which creates reality is not applicable. A place truly beyond our comprehension of magic, power, space, and time—where our rules of physical manifestation don’t apply. Only the most ancient rules of cosmic harmony and manifestation, of the Ascendants themselves, work here. It is a place they made to be empty of physical harmonies. Entirely.”

“It’s like an endless prison, where those ruined things we feel in the darkness can no longer create,” Lucca says now as I feel every hackle upon him rise. “Of course, Staphylogenes would hide his heart in such a place. Where no other Ascendant would dare tread… lest they get their entire soul ripped out by whatever’s lurking in this darkness.”

“They used to be Ascendants.” I fight a terrible dread, swallowing hard past a prickling dryness in my throat. “All these things in the darkness we feel; they used to be sublime before they fell so far, even their own kind could not repair them.”

Trespassers. A cold, ancient voice moves through the darkness, right through our ears as it buries itself inside our minds. I feel like screaming from that vast, dark invasion, though I find I can’t.

Terror swelling my throat shut.

“We have come for the sundered heart of Staphylogenes. Nothing else. We do not mean to trespass,” Quinn says now, like he wasn’t affected in the slightest by that voice. Though I can feel how hard his heart thunders, entirely inappropriate for Quinn, thanks to whatever is speaking to us.

The Golden Child of Light has no more need of his heart. But we do. That voice says now as I feel something—somethings—encircle us from the darkness. Though I can see nothing in the low-lit catacombs and vaults, it doesn’t mean something isn’t here. It’s simply not manifesting in a way we could see it.

As I feel it draw nearer—along with its cohorts.

It’s like the most powerful Vampire Revenants in the universe, as Quinn draws up tall now, facing off with them. I feel Lucca firm his courage as even I feel stalwartness return to my heart. We will get what we came all this way for, or die trying.

Whatever lingers in this darkness can be sure of it.

You will die trying, that voice says now as it approaches. You will die a thousand shrieking deaths, and a thousand thousand deaths more, until there is nothing left of you but starlight shredded across the winds of the universe. You know I am capable of it. And my fellows are, too.

“Why should you kill us? Are you threatened by our lowly mortal presences?” Quinn banters back now, as I sense his reasoning. If this ancient being, ruined as it is, is taking the time to banter with us, we still have a chance.

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