With each cautious step, Darius's heart thundered in his rib cage. The dull lighting was far ahead, making it hard for him to see what was currently around him. As a result, this amplified the anxious man's senses, and he kept himself wary of what could possibly lurk in this darkness.
Living with the voice for half of his life… Darius and other countrymen like him rarely ever ventured out at night. This gave Dracaeneans a fear of the dark and unknown—and the inability for their eyes to adjust without much light. Without that in mind, Darius was basically a blind man, stumbling for proper footing in an unknown area.
Unsteady step after unsteady step, Darius wished he had a cane or some sort of mechanism to feel around for the pillars. Or better yet, for the stalagmites, so that he wouldn't stub a toe. Wasn't this his own dream? A conjecture of his inner thoughts? If his subconscious was this advanced to come up with this kind of scenario, why couldn't he provide him with the necessary tools so he wouldn't stumble about aimlessly?
He longed for this nightmare to end.
Darius had only walked what felt like a few metres when he heard something fall from the ceiling of the elongated cavern.
Drip.
Darius paused, his expression more vigilant.
Drip. Drip.
The sound from above was akin to the soft patterns of rainfall… But how could that be? The cave was relatively dry, condensation forming in this climate seemed next to impossible...
How peculiar.
Darius paused for a moment, holding his breath. Then he closed his eyes and strained his hearing, trying to decipher the odd sound.
Plop.
If he could see, his ears would have visibly twitched at the soft noise…
Drip.
He concentrated harder, his conscience ruminating and comparing the noise to something he knew. As another droplet fell, it sounded as though it had broken apart from a huge mass and squished to the ground in a pile of mush.
Drip.
Plop.
The more it persisted the more he ascertained that it was much… Thicker than water. Normally during rain, water would often act like miniature projectiles cascading onto hard roof tiles… But this sounded like when one of the chefs back at the tavern dropped bits of moist dough onto the ground.
PLOP.
The last sound was excruciatingly close, causing Darius's eyes to rapidly fly back open. He looked down at his feet and was met with an odd sight.
What fell to the ground was a glowing blob of green goo…
Luckily it didn't smell revolting—in fact, it had a sterile fragrance.
Darius knelt on one knee, inspecting the blob. Tempted to see how it felt, he reached out his hand—but before he touched it he marvelled at the way his skin absorbed the blob's luminescence. His normally honeyed skin was now a subdued sea green; his eyes sparkled in wonder, fascinated with how this… Entity was able to glow so brightly.
Just what was this?
The soft squishing sounds continued around him but further away. He paid them no mind now that he saw the source right under his nose. He wanted to study it further… But that's not what he should be doing.
He needed to find a way out of this cave.
Sighing, he figured it wouldn't hurt to take a small sample to investigate as he delved deeper into the cavern. Who knows? Maybe its luminescence could be a torch for him to navigate.
Maybe this was his subconscious giving him a boost to navigate his way? Afterall, he can't just keep stumbling in the dark… Right?
Deciding that taking a small portion was probably his wisest idea, he tore a piece of his white shirt, folded it expertly, and sliced a chunk of the goo. As much as he wanted to feel it between his fingers earlier… He realized now that it could be acidic. Best he has some sort of protection, lest he burns his playing hand.
With the goo in hand, his surroundings didn't seem as nerve-racking as earlier. The goo's glow allowed him to see quite a ways down the cavern, so he ventured forth.
As he kept his eyes peeled ahead, he would occasionally look down at the goo and how it made his skin look. Other than fire or certain insects… He has never seen something glow quite like this… And from a semi-solid matter at that.
As he pondered the mysterious goo, he thought it made his skin look just like the wraith demons from one of his legends.
Wraiths were said to look like misty apparitions when alive. These accounts were from the few surviving soldiers from the war who may have had a run in with them during battle—fortunate souls. Regrettably, the majority who dealt with these demons rarely ever lived to tell the tale.
These monsters were one of the few ever recorded from the time of the demonic-human war before the mysterious stalemate. The war itself persisted during the reign of Amberlyn Raef-Dracaena—may Her Grace rest her soul—and began one generation before her.
A time before the monsters… Darius didn't know what that looked like.
That was because his life revolved around these beasts… In fact, he knew what a wraith looked like dead. He had witnessed it firsthand during his father's study. The thought of what he had gone through when witnessing these kinds of beasts sent shivers down his spine as he trudged ahead in the cavern. He would like to avoid the thought of them altogether, but he didn't have much else to think about on this long and arduous journey… So he might as well try to recover what bits and pieces he could from long ago…
His memories were hazy ever since he was expelled from the palace—no—before that. It was like some sort of haze overcame his mind from mentioning certain topics related to…
Ah, it happened again.
Anyway…
That's why dreams were important to him. They helped him recover what was lost. It was like a puzzle, and dreams would help glue the individual pieces of the bigger picture… But he knew that many of the pieces were missing. No amount of dreams could bring them back.
Gripping the goo, he hummed to himself a little tune—forcing himself into a state of calm, as he thought more about the wraith he had seen.
The one that he had seen had a body that was sea-foam green with illustrious, sharp canines that could have bitten his hand off. Its eyes were shut, but he wouldn't have wanted to see them anyway. The hair on its human-like head was long and stringy, like tangled yarn. The strands were caked in oil and black as night, much unlike his own ivory colored hair.
Even though he had only seen the body in passing in one of the mortuaries his father studied in… This beast still made a lasting impression.
Most of what he knew—what he had adapted to create music—was the nightmarish information he had accumulated under the tutelage of his father. The things he had seen… Could turn a grown man white as a sheet. Yet not his father, who had been accustomed to anatomy and the study of beasts.
Long ago, when Darius had studied vigilantly in the castle as a king's subordinate, he was taught basic information along with the other nobles: history, arithmetic, political studies, dancing, sword fighting… From the outside, his education was normal, but that was only to the extent of what he learned at the castle.
What he had to learn from his father's personal tutelage was another thing entirely.
How the fiefdoms contributed to the war effort varied greatly. Smaller Houses, like Roggervene's, created fitting subordinates such as ladies in waiting, personal butlers, or exquisite chiefs. Other larger families, like Blaine Elyisse's family, created militia or skilled knights.
As Darius passed another stone pillar, he kicked a small rock, grumbling at the thought of that child becoming a war hero in the future. He could envision an adult version of Blaine triumphing through the capital city, eyes gloating as they would trail the crowd of citizens cheering in his honor. Darius kicked another rock when he imagined Blaine in the throne room, demanding a large sum for his efforts. Darius tried to picture the king's response, but all he could think was a looming figure with his legs crossed on a velvet chair, his head scribbled out with fountain ink—making Darius frown, giving up that last thought entirely.
Either way, every house had something to give for the sake of the royals… Blaine's House would make a contribution towards the war just like all the other noble houses, whether Darius approved of it or not. That was just the way society functioned.
Anyway, his father's fiefdom was not a war-fief to supply in the military or weaponry like the other houses. And although Darius himself studied to be the king's…
Ah, his mind was doing it again. The memory was fading…
Well… Anyway—creating castle employees or knights was not the main purpose of his father's house either. It was a fief on the sciences, and on his mother's side, it was a house about performing arts.
Therefore, Darius had to personally view monster corpses in a mortuary to study their biology and learn to play the cittern simultaneously.
Though, he gravely failed at achieving the first talent… He later found he'd rather pursue music.
Back then, his father may have been an advisor in the council and for the queen, but that wasn't all of his duties. During the day, he'd dawdle about the Queen's schedule and join her on social political affairs. However, at night, his main occupation was that of a self-employed demonologist, studying the specimens of beasts and similar animals to aid the Queen with defensive methods in battle.
Darius recalled the piles of coffee mugs in his father's study—all the nights that he lacked sleep just to write up a thesis and also help the Queen plan the King's birthday party…
In a way, Darius felt relieved he would never have to step foot in that mortuary again just to witness his old man grumbling that the Missionary of Civil Affairs should take up his role instead…
Obviously his father's passion remained with where his strange beasts were, not with political jargon and tedious gatherings.
Darius nearly slipped on another pile of goo. He lost his sense of reality thinking about the past so much that he wasn't looking where he was going. Luckily, he quickly caught himself by placing a free hand on the pillar right next to him. He took a few moments for his heart to steady and continued forward.
When he was cleared away from the pile of goo, his mind began to wander once again—yet he still kept his attention on the present.
According to his father, few monsters were ever really captured and studied heavily—wraiths being one of them. It was a type of creature made out of human negative energy, hence the accounts of its smoky countenance. It was estimated that they only appeared at the heat of battle, when the knights' emotions ran heavily and death followed their wake.
Darius remembered how the one in his father's mortuary was sprawled out on the cold, metallic slan—a corpse ready to be prepared. He had watched his father and a few of his attendants slowly examining it and shouting to one another their discoveries. At first, seeing the creature was… fascinating spectacle. Darius, though disturbed at its ferocious appearance, thought he was one of the lucky few to ever see this thing in its natural form. As a child, it was natural for him to look upon the thing with a fantastical wonder.
That was until he saw his father prepare the scalpel.
Apparently they had to open these beasts in order for them to be studied properly.
Darius had only watched so he could learn the gist of the formation of demons, their sociology, and their biology, but it was still too much for a child to take.
He despondently and vividly remembered he had thrown up when his father brought the scalpel to the beast's chest.
After seeing what his father did, Darius found it hard to handle. To render these beings defenseless if they were alive or to dissect them when they weren't… Was not something Darius wanted to see or impose on anyone or anything else—even if they were monsters.
Sigh.
Though that wasn't the last time he had to see it—his father made him visit the mortuary to keep studying demonology. He hung around for two more years until his father eventually gave in to his pleas. After that Darius had a hired tutor to study music instead, like how he had learned under his mother.
But after that initial visit to the mortuary and his begging to not study under him, he was reprimanded the next moment and sent to eat dinner to reflect on his earlier demeanor.
That day was actually the first day Darius had stepped foot onto the castle. His father had picked him up around the age of five, when he was emotionally ready, to study with him—like all the other noble children.
It was also the first day of the many days in which he would study the cittern heavily into the night. That night, his playing lulled another child to stroll into his quarters…
Sigh, his brain did it again…
As Darius tried to remember further, his memories turned into dust and blew away. He tried to grasp at the fleeting grains, to remember the rest, but he turned up empty-headed.
Well, that didn't matter.
Shifting topics quickly, Darius let go of the memory. It was fruitless no matter how many times he tried to chase it, he might as well give up.
Anyway, the monsters that were studied by his father and his attendants were a way to create human defenses for the war. If they learned how these beings worked—their abilities and habits—then the humans stood a chance at defeating them.
Though how they procured the monsters… Was rather difficult.
Darius kicked a few rocks on accident and grabbed a hold of the rock face of the cavern. Using it as leverage to avoid knocking into something again, he spurred on and continued his thought process.
Many demons turned into ash after death. He remembered how a few of the knights paid his father a visit. They would discuss in low tones about a specimen he was about to receive that died on the way… Darius, six at the time, had asked what had happened to them. His father had given him a side glance until the knights left, and then carefully explained the death process of demons.
Very few bodies were left intact. The ones that were still alive in his father's study were procured with the help of clergymen or women on the battlefront. Yet catching live specimens was even more exceedingly strenuous… and idiotically dangerous. So not many clergy wanted to expend their lives for the sake of capturing a single demon. Though it wasn't impossible. The very few who agreed to the royal request of capturing them managed to do it and bring the specimens back to the castle for his father to exhume.
But for the ones that died on the battlefront or during the clergy's care out of unforeseen circumstances… Their bodies would blaze with hellfire, melting their insides out. Demon bodies could handle extreme conditions, it's what makes their lifespan incredibly long. Yet with new human weaponry and holy artifacts, they could be captured if not defeated. However, demons were a proud race, and if they could not escape then… They would cause their hearts to implode. This was like if a human took cyanide to escape capture.
Causing their hearts to implode would burn everything around it. Their lives were worth the price… So those who were unfortunate to sedate the captured demon would burn along with it. Clergy, knights… Everyone.
This was to ensure the demon race's survival.
Some tried to self-implode but clergy could reverse the effects and stabilize the demon's corpse for a short amount of time. That's what happened with the wraith. After it was studied, it was properly buried, and the flames licked the feets of the unlucky knights who led the profession.
His six year old self didn't want to hear anymore of it, but Dairus had eventually mulled it over as he left the castle and created a few songs… To warn the people.
To which they didn't seem to care.
In the end, that was the reason why it was so difficult to procure information about demons—resulting in the public knowing very little about them… Even if Darius tried, some were just unwilling to listen anyway.
At times, even the Queen found it arduous to try and preserve these beasts but his father deemed it was necessary to the cause. If it wasn't for him, then many of the defense mechanisms used by the church or by the knights wouldn't exist today…
This was what Darius was so confused about.
Because if his father's work was this tremendously important to the war, then why did the king let him go?
Darius came up with a variety of excuses to entertain his mind as he kept trudging through the cave, but nothing really came to him and stuck out as a suitable reason. He was even about to entertain a more scandalous notion between his father and possible… aspects (bizarre as those excuses were, he doubted his father would actually have the time to entertain anyone). In the end, Darius shook his head at the ridiculous thought when he noticed he had reached the mouth of a larger cavern.
Darius knew he was closer to the source of the noise because he heard faint movements inside—yet he still hesitated on pushing ahead. What if what met him inside was… Something out of his songs or worst nightmares?
He had no idea where he was but this was the only way he could go. This dreamwold was becoming more off the longer he stayed here; he wanted to finish whatever plot his subconscious was scheming and wake up as soon as possible. Therefore, he had to face the music—pun not intended.
If his mind wanted him to meet… Well, a monster—then he would wake up when it was over right?
Darius gulped as he felt the goosebumps on his arms rise.
Let's get this over with, let's get this over with, let's get this over with…
Voicing a mantra in his head to steal himself for the worst, he finally mustered up the courage to see what was lurking for him.