Chapter 13 #2
When the time comes to meet in the courtyard, I expect all of us to journey on foot to the Lake. To my surprise, however, Elysand uses his own powers coupled with an artifact that enhances his ability to create a portal that leads directly to the Lake.
One by one we go through it, surfacing on the other side in a matter of seconds.
A cold wind hits me right in the face, and I squint my eyes instinctively. A shudder goes down my body and I pull my coat closer as I try to stop my teeth from clattering.
Bleakness surrounds us. The ground is both barren and fertile, a reddish-brown supple grass covering the land, but nothing grows on it. There are no trees, no plants, nothing. Just the blood-stained grass that seems to have laid dominion over the land.
Even the mid-level individuals shudder from the biting cold, suggesting it’s not just elemental—there’s something mystical about it.
In the distance, there is a dilapidated surveillance tower, the upper part destroyed as if it had exploded from within.
Elysand leads the way toward the tower, at which point the shore of the Lake becomes visible.
He might have described the mystical properties of the Lake, but he did not say the water was red.
Scarlet liquid washes onto the shore, seeping into the ground and staining everything it comes into contact with it.
A loud whooshing sound resounds in my ears. I glance toward the source of the sound, coming from somewhere around the Lake, but I don’t see anything.
We walk closer. The sound intensifies.
I squint my eyes and clench my fists, controlling my breath.
If I focused enough, I feel as though I can make out words. There is something, but once it reaches my ears, it transforms into a cacophony of unintelligible sounds.
One hundred steps away from the Lake, we stop, and so does the sound.
I inhale sharply, some clarity returning to my mind.
“One legend says the Lake was created after a drop of blood from the Wrath Primordial fell into the water. One drop and everything turned red and angry,” Elysand says wistfully. “It is, of course, but a legend.”
Right… How could one drop of blood turn everything red? Although coming from a Primordial, it would be possible. After all, there are so many tales and legends about the extent of their powers. They were the children of the Source after all—the mightiest of mighty.
But if this is true, and the Wrath Primordial did indeed bleed in the water…
That could only be on purpose. Coupled with the properties of the Lake, it makes me wonder what his purpose was.
According to Elysand, once you enter the Lake, you become trapped in your own mind—a psychological torment that most often leads to death. Yet when it doesn’t… It leads to power.
Was it a test He left behind? A tool to gain strength? Or was it a punishment for those daring to enter the Lake, daring to believe power could be achieved so fast, so easily.
“We will camp around the shore, fifty steps from the water-line,” Elysand declares. “You do not need to stay up for surveillance. My map will tell me when his energy signature re-appears, if it does.”
“Uhm, Sir…” One of the team members interrupts. “But what if he doesn’t resurface? How long are we going to wait here?”
“The protocol states that we are to wait here a sennight. If he does not appear by then, the chances he will are infinitely small. And if that does happen, we will mobilize accordingly.”
A sennight? We are to remain here a sennight?
I think back to my meager resources and wonder how long that will last me. A day or two? Maybe. But definitely not more.
As if reading my mind, Elysand continues. “Tomorrow at the start of the day, our sister Department will bring us more food and drink as well as additional clothing should you require it.”
With that, we all choose a spot along the Lake and make camp. Since I’m not on speaking terms with anyone but Elysand, I’m left all alone as the others start talking amongst themselves.
Luckily, I’m not alone alone. I have my book. So I start reading to pass the time, annotating any interesting passage I might discuss with Miss Moe next time I see her.
I only manage to read a couple of pages when the same sounds as before attack my mind. This time, they’re louder, more chaotic, more…domineering.
I glance around me. Everyone is busy with their own tasks, some have gathered together and are having a great time eating delicacies and drinking some liquor—Elysand said it is permissible to do so as long as they don’t overdo it.
With the magnitude of the whispers increasing by the second, I get up, place the book safely on top of my backpack and slowly walk toward the water.
Although the noise is interfering with my mind, I’m still in possession of all my faculties—I know to be careful not to touch the water or come into contact with it in any way. Still, something within me, a hidden instinct perhaps, tells me to look into the matter.
Twenty-nine steps. That’s how long it takes until I am close to the Lake. At the tips of my shoes, I can see the separation between the dry grass and the damp, bloodier one.
The noise becomes pure hissing. And there, in the distance, I see a shadow over the Lake. Something is reflected within it. An unnatural force pushes me forward, but I resist it, my foot hovering over the damp grass.
Suddenly, everything freezes. Pure silence envelops the area. Even the people in the back stop moving, some freezing mid-air, others in odd positions.
I step back, looking wildly around. Only I seem to be unaffected.
This is bad…
“Yes, this is bad,” a voice echoes from the Lake.
A whirlpool forms at the surface of the water. Waves gather, and from the eye of that whirlpool, a bloody figure rises. Water cascades down her body, staining everything red. There are no distinct features, nothing to identify her.
It’s not that individual who entered the Lake, I realize immediately.
“No, I am not,” she confirms, reading my thoughts.
“W-who are you?” I ask startled.
A malevolent smile spreads across her face.
“The sum of all your sins; the consequence of all your misdeeds.”
“W-what?”
“How have the last three thousand years treated you?”
I blink, confused by her question.
“Not that bad, I see,” she muses. “Not to worry, there’s another three thousand years of misery waiting for you.” She smirks.
“All. Of. Your. Own Doing.”