Chapter 42
Cut the strings and the puppet is not free
It simply collapses
for it was not built to stand on its own
~ Marcus Holt
A flash of light erupted from the torch as Mullins struck the fire steel, nearly blinding me in the process.
It had been ages since I’d witnessed anything beyond the soft glow of a lantern.
Vidar, noticing me flinch at the intensity, kindly lifted his torch higher, away from my eyes.
We had a few lanterns and a couple of torches among us, but I couldn't shake the feeling that they wouldn’t be much help once we stepped through the gates of Theloch.
“This place is going to be underwater soon if the tides here are anything like they are in the rest of the world,” Mullins said.
“I doubt they’re like the rest of the world, but we should act as if the water could rise at any moment,” Vidar said. “Not all of us can sprout gills. Nazario. You have the ship in my absence. Keep men on the guns and along the sides to defend her.”
Nazario gave him a curt nod. “We’ll be making all the repairs that we can while you all venture into the temple.”
While they discussed a few last-minute things, I turned to Aeris. She had her arms crossed over herself like she was guarding her chest, her entire demeanor obviously uneasy. I approached her, wary of her condition.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s so… quiet,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“Well, no one comes here anymore. Kroans have busied themselves too much with killing men these past decades to bother coming here.”
“No, it’s not that. I haven’t been able to feel anything since we entered the fog. Not until that canyon and now that we’re through it…” She rubbed her arms as if cold. “Even Nazario’s presence eludes me here, like…”
She quieted herself, swallowing her words.
“Like we’re dead,” I muttered.
She blinked, but instead of denying it, she nodded. I stepped in a little closer.
“There is a reason Kroans are looked at like a disease. And this place? It is the heart of it. But I don’t plan on staying.”
She half-smiled. “You don’t truly believe you’re coming out of there.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t feel anything here?”
“I don’t have to. Your eyes betray more than you want them to. But if you don’t think you’re making it out, what are we doing here?”
“Ending it.”
“I’m coming,” Meridan spoke up.
“You need rest.”
“She’s right,” Mullins chimed in.
“We all do. I’m coming,” she repeated, shying from the brightness of the torches as she made her way through the men.
Turning, I headed for the side of the ship, swinging my leg over the railing to climb down into the boat below.
The group venturing into the temple consisted of Mullins, David, and James. Then, myself, Meridan, and Vidar. The Weaver was in good hands, anchored near the sharp rocks, but not close enough to be slammed into them if the waters decided to toss again.
As we rowed away from the ship, a sense of security was stripped away.
It started to sink back into the thickening fog like a specter as we moved toward the flat, stone bridge.
Vidar stood at the front of the boat, a lantern raised in front of him to light the way.
When the underbelly of the boat scraped against the rocks, we stopped, realizing the water was shallow enough to wade through.
We disembarked, tossing a rope over a vertical stone to secure our way back, and cautiously began moving inward.
It was a somewhat long trek through knee-deep water.
It felt like ages before we came to a set of steps leading out of the sea and onto a raised walkway that led straight to the mouth of Theloch.
And when that entrance came into clear view from the fog, it was like staring a great monster in the eyes while it reared up to devour us.
The arch was far larger than what was needed for anything of normal size to pass through.
It looked like it was made for a giant, carved crudely from basalt and glassy obsidian.
Past the archway was pure, impenetrable darkness.
We all stopped before entering, letting the humid air from inside pass us by. There was a pulse to it, as if we were about to walk into the belly of a breathing giant. It smelled of stale water and salt.
“So, this is where you were born,” Vidar said.
“Are all Kroans born here?” David asked.
“No,” I said. “And these days, none of them are. A Thelochian birth had to be approved by the priestesses. And my mother was one of Akareth’s favorites.”
The image of my mother in that dark chamber, suffering through the birth of two daughters, flickered in the back of my mind.
“Should we expect to run into any priestesses here?” Vidar asked.
“No. This place was abandoned shortly after I was born. That day, my mother waged war on the world. Not just men. Kroans rallied behind her like she was a god herself.”
“Maybe no priestesses, but those creatures in the canyon certainly could show up,” Mullins said.
I nodded in agreement. “The only ones unwilling to let go of this place, I suppose.”
“It’s big. Not as big as I thought a city would be, though.”
“Most of it is beneath the water,” Meridan said.
“Well then,” Vidar exhaled, taking the first step forward. “Let’s not waste more time gawking.”
I quickly joined his side and ventured into the monstrous structure.
In there, the torches did less than they did in the fog.
The lanterns barely reached from wall to wall.
We stayed tight, moving through a dank cave, the sound of dripping water echoing around us.
The deeper we went, the denser it sounded.
No longer was the breeze whispering through the corridor.
All I could hear was our light footsteps and the whisper of the torch fires.
We walked and walked through the windowless passage. When Vidar swung his torch toward one of the walls, we could see barnacles, old and new, layered upon the stone up to the ceiling.
“Looks like this place does fill with water,” he said.
“And it’s got gates,” Mullins added, pointing up toward a seam in the ceiling. “We’ve passed two so far.”
“Why would there be gates?” David asked.
“They’re old,” I said. “From a time when sirens were too busy fighting each other to worry about man.”
We continued walking on and on through the quiet corridor when something prompted me to glance over my shoulder, like a murmur no one else could hear. I peered into the darkness in our wake, my footsteps slowing when a portion of the wall seemed to move before my eyes.
“What is it?” Meridan asked.
Too many times, the remnants of my nightmares skewed reality. I stared at the dark, but it was still. Quiet.
“Nothing,” I said, turning back around.
Maybe it was foolish of me not to tell the others, but how could I know whether something was amiss or if it was my flawed mind playing tricks?
I put all my faith into the latter possibility and my skin crawled at the idea of my being wrong. Perhaps we weren’t alone.
Up ahead, a sliver of blue light caught my eye.
We picked up our pace, uplifted by the thought of getting out of that seemingly endless hallway.
Finally, the passage opened up into a staircase that ascended onto a higher platform.
It led to a large, open chamber that was mildly illuminated by a cascade of moonlight from a skylight above.
Images from my mostly forgotten dreams started to trickle in, reminding me that I’d been in that place before.
Not just because I was born there, but because it was where I found Lyla in her dreams. That chamber was circular, surrounded by a mote where seawater sat stagnant, likely from additional passages that wound beneath us.
In the center of the room was a dais and sitting atop it was a stone table with small grooves carved into the otherwise flat surface.
I slowly stepped up to it as the others explored the empty chamber.
Staring down at the slick table, I imagined all the bodies that had been lain upon it before my time.
I ran my fingers along one of the narrow trenches and could practically smell the blood in the air as if the events were fresh.
“Why am I not surprised to see something like this here?” Vidar said.
“From the things my mother told me, sacrifices were willing. A way to feed the father below and appease his wrath. That was before he had a name. Before anyone knew what he was. They only knew the quakes and the horrid weather, all of which they attributed to him.”
“Do you think he controls the weather?” he chuffed.
“I think this place is between worlds. Whether he is responsible for the anomalies or not, we were never meant to build a city here. This,” I peered up at the moon hovering above. “This is where the roots of our madness spread from.”
“There’s another chamber through here,” Mullins announced, peering around a corner.
We moved on from that room and into another one where the walls pushed out further.
A vast space stood before us, lit up equally by a hole in the ceiling through which the moon could cast her gaze.
Every wall was littered with images, both carved and painted.
They crowded every surface, overwhelming my eyes, but the walls were not the thing that made my gut clench.
Standing in the middle of the chamber was a large, black statue chiseled out of basalt.
The base was a misshapen slab of obsidian that looked liable to cut anyone that got too close.
As my eyes panned upwards, the knot in my stomach tightened, bordering nausea.
A dozen tentacles spiraled upward, forming a vague figure that stretched three men high beneath the beam of moonlight.
As my gaze climbed, I could see what I assumed was supposed to be the creature’s face.
Eyeless. Long and distorted. I could not tell exactly what I was looking at.
Only that it made me sick to stare too long.