ToastySpam
Legend
In the mountains of the north, a storm brewed.
The wind was furious, whipping up snow and chunks of ice sharpened by abrasion, spinning them to and fro. Harsh, pointed currents of air funnelled the mixture in spears of cold towards Star, layering the outside of her cloak in a blanket of white.
If she didn’t find shelter soon, this cold would claim her. Her body would never be found, isolated on top of this remote, desolate mountain.
But she didn’t fear. Perhaps bravery, perhaps stupidity, but also within her was the knowledge of the safety that lay ahead. She had been here before. Not that long ago, really, but it felt like ages had passed.
And yes, her trust was rewarded – ahead of her, through the swirling, savage frost, rose the black mouth of a cave, stark against the surrounding whiteness.
Hope kindled as a fire within her, and she struck out towards it with renewed vigour. The storm seemed to sense her eagerness, and responded with a ferocity of its own, drenching up an explosion of frost as intense as flame that chilled her as if she hadn’t been wearing any clothing at all.
Still, she forged onwards, and, as if to reward her efforts, the cavern entrance reappeared. After a time she couldn’t count, she found herself inside, the white leather of her boots tapping on a stone floor instead of crunching on snow.
The direction of the wind was such that barely a scatter of the frost made it through the entrance. Star shook out her cloak, and continued onwards, farther into the blackness.
The cave turned into a tunnel, which sloped downwards. The floor, already too smooth and regular to have been natural, began to meld into a staircase carved into the rock. The staircase curved slightly, twisting in its course, and every step carried her further into darkness.
After a short while, however, just as it seemed the void might swallow her, it was cut open by a bright, blue-tinged light.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, and she took a sharp breath. The beauty of this part of the cavern still shocked her, despite this being a return visit.
The walls were chiselled out of some kind of luminous, aqua-coloured stone that glowed just as brightly as if the sides of the room were lined with lanterns.
The cavern ended about 30m away. In certain areas of the wall, depressions in the rock were filled with piles of crumbled stone. Star distractedly wondered if, originally, they had been doors that lead to other underground areas, also lit by the glowing stone.
Her target, however, was an elegantly carved pedestal that lay in the centre of the space. It rose seamlessly from the ground, a mountain in comparison to the flatness of the floor. Constructed in a trapezium shape, with scenes from ancient stories forgotten long ago depicted in relief around the outside. In the centre of the front facing side, a wolf sunk its jaws into the neck of a python. Both of these creatures were larger than the other figures shown, and the artwork on them was so intricate and detailed that Star felt she could almost hear the snarls and hisses. A ceaseless battle that would continue until this place crumbled to dust.
On the flat surface of the plinth, facing up towards the arched ceiling, a careful incision was carved into the rock. Star looked at it for a moment, then reached over her shoulder and drew her sword. The sound it made as it left the scabbard echoed around the room, a song of metal that filled her ears. She held it up to light, admiring the savage beauty it possessed; watching the light from the walls glance off it in glittering white points.
Then, gingerly, she flipped the handle in her hand, so that the blade was pointing downwards, and pushed it into the pedestal. It glided smoothly into the hole, barely making a noise against the polished stone.
Then, she knelt, the hardness of the floor uncomfortable on her knees despite how smooth it was, and pressed her palms together.
She stayed like that for a moment, not moving, not closing her eyes or muttering any words of prayer. Just kneeling in the silence and studying the weapon that had served her so well.
Then, she did pray, raising her fingertips to brush against her lips. She prayed not to one god, but all. Every one that she could name, and some she couldn’t. She prayed for everyone she’d lost, everyone that she had the chance to lose. She even prayed for Maceo, who she had viewed as her enemy but now felt only weary pity for. But most of all, what she begged the pantheon to grant her was hope.
Hope for herself, for those she cared for. The courage to carry that hope with her, and to challenge anyone who would dare attempt to crush it. Enough hope to drive back the shadows that crept ever closer.
By the end, she was half-trembling, her body feeling wracked with emotions that she couldn’t describe or pin down. She stood, reached up a hand to brush away the strands of blonde hair that had fallen in front of her widened eyes. She stared at the sword in the stone, waiting for some response, ANY response…
And….
The wind was furious, whipping up snow and chunks of ice sharpened by abrasion, spinning them to and fro. Harsh, pointed currents of air funnelled the mixture in spears of cold towards Star, layering the outside of her cloak in a blanket of white.
If she didn’t find shelter soon, this cold would claim her. Her body would never be found, isolated on top of this remote, desolate mountain.
But she didn’t fear. Perhaps bravery, perhaps stupidity, but also within her was the knowledge of the safety that lay ahead. She had been here before. Not that long ago, really, but it felt like ages had passed.
And yes, her trust was rewarded – ahead of her, through the swirling, savage frost, rose the black mouth of a cave, stark against the surrounding whiteness.
Hope kindled as a fire within her, and she struck out towards it with renewed vigour. The storm seemed to sense her eagerness, and responded with a ferocity of its own, drenching up an explosion of frost as intense as flame that chilled her as if she hadn’t been wearing any clothing at all.
Still, she forged onwards, and, as if to reward her efforts, the cavern entrance reappeared. After a time she couldn’t count, she found herself inside, the white leather of her boots tapping on a stone floor instead of crunching on snow.
The direction of the wind was such that barely a scatter of the frost made it through the entrance. Star shook out her cloak, and continued onwards, farther into the blackness.
The cave turned into a tunnel, which sloped downwards. The floor, already too smooth and regular to have been natural, began to meld into a staircase carved into the rock. The staircase curved slightly, twisting in its course, and every step carried her further into darkness.
After a short while, however, just as it seemed the void might swallow her, it was cut open by a bright, blue-tinged light.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, and she took a sharp breath. The beauty of this part of the cavern still shocked her, despite this being a return visit.
The walls were chiselled out of some kind of luminous, aqua-coloured stone that glowed just as brightly as if the sides of the room were lined with lanterns.
The cavern ended about 30m away. In certain areas of the wall, depressions in the rock were filled with piles of crumbled stone. Star distractedly wondered if, originally, they had been doors that lead to other underground areas, also lit by the glowing stone.
Her target, however, was an elegantly carved pedestal that lay in the centre of the space. It rose seamlessly from the ground, a mountain in comparison to the flatness of the floor. Constructed in a trapezium shape, with scenes from ancient stories forgotten long ago depicted in relief around the outside. In the centre of the front facing side, a wolf sunk its jaws into the neck of a python. Both of these creatures were larger than the other figures shown, and the artwork on them was so intricate and detailed that Star felt she could almost hear the snarls and hisses. A ceaseless battle that would continue until this place crumbled to dust.
On the flat surface of the plinth, facing up towards the arched ceiling, a careful incision was carved into the rock. Star looked at it for a moment, then reached over her shoulder and drew her sword. The sound it made as it left the scabbard echoed around the room, a song of metal that filled her ears. She held it up to light, admiring the savage beauty it possessed; watching the light from the walls glance off it in glittering white points.
Then, gingerly, she flipped the handle in her hand, so that the blade was pointing downwards, and pushed it into the pedestal. It glided smoothly into the hole, barely making a noise against the polished stone.
Then, she knelt, the hardness of the floor uncomfortable on her knees despite how smooth it was, and pressed her palms together.
She stayed like that for a moment, not moving, not closing her eyes or muttering any words of prayer. Just kneeling in the silence and studying the weapon that had served her so well.
Then, she did pray, raising her fingertips to brush against her lips. She prayed not to one god, but all. Every one that she could name, and some she couldn’t. She prayed for everyone she’d lost, everyone that she had the chance to lose. She even prayed for Maceo, who she had viewed as her enemy but now felt only weary pity for. But most of all, what she begged the pantheon to grant her was hope.
Hope for herself, for those she cared for. The courage to carry that hope with her, and to challenge anyone who would dare attempt to crush it. Enough hope to drive back the shadows that crept ever closer.
By the end, she was half-trembling, her body feeling wracked with emotions that she couldn’t describe or pin down. She stood, reached up a hand to brush away the strands of blonde hair that had fallen in front of her widened eyes. She stared at the sword in the stone, waiting for some response, ANY response…
And….
haha