At long last, the duo emerged into a sprawling chamber. Brad's attention was immediately seized by the expansive alcoves that towered over fifteen meters in height along the walls. Row after row of niches adorned each expanse, while beneath each niche, inscriptions or motifs intricately carved in an unfamiliar language intertwined with raised runes. Dominating the center of the chamber, positioned like the vertices of a triangular formation nestled within a circular mound, three marble biers rose majestically, bearing resemblance to adorned catafalques.
"What are these hollows?" he inquired.
"Once, this place resembled a mortuary, owing to its frigid and arid ambience of days long past. It remained sealed for an extended duration. However, it was later unveiled that certain sorcerers had exploited this space for illicit experimentation. A clandestine cult of sorts seemed to have taken root. Unspeakable endeavors, such as ventures into the realm beyond death and abominable blood rituals, unfolded within these very walls," Caleb nonchalantly responded.
"Ah, indeed, during the age of the Empire, the Guild of Assassins made extensive use of this location. Recently, it has been purged under the watch of King Illuen and his retinue. All the access points have been secured and sealed," he added, gesturing toward the ancient entrance on the northwest wall.
In the annals of time, a bygone era witnessed the arched passageway, delving ever deeper, obstructed by a colossal heap of crumbled rocks.
"Why does the passage we traversed remain open?" Brad inquired, his voice laced with curiosity.
"Our society, heeding the explicit entreaty of Ilberius, orchestrated its unveiling. Yet, do not misconstrue my words, for there exists no direct conduit from the library. We merely forged a befitting route from the Scholars' Lounge to this side, a pathway crafted to ease the astral sojourns of neophytes such as yourself," Caleb elucidated.
"Well, isn't that a splendid revelation? Let me hazard a guess: the Commander-in-Chief remains oblivious," Brad retorted with biting sarcasm.
Caleb, signifying his lack of insight into the matter, pursed his lips. Sensing the knight's discontent, he deftly evaded the topic, offering a vague response, "I abstain from intermingling in the delicate diplomacy between Master David and the sovereign or the esteemed high priestess. Such matters surpass my purview."
"Very well, then. Let us summon Ilberius and proceed with our undertaking. This place holds no allure for me. It exudes the fetid stench of death," Brad continued, his restlessness palpable.
Caleb's gaze roved over his surroundings, an avid search for something concealed. Brad observed him intently and just as he was poised to inquire, he, too, caught sight of a fleeting glimmer within one of the recesses adorning the wall.
"Methinks, he slumbers," Caleb whispered, his voice barely audible.
"Then rouse him from his slumber," Brad replied sternly, his tone demanding.
"Be forewarned, for his temperament may sour when abruptly awakened from his repose."
As a growing disquietude permeated the ambiance, and the weight of their mission pressed upon him, Brad closed his eyes, envisioning himself ascending toward the shimmering crevice. The manifestation proved efficacious. Gradually, he ascended from the earthly plane, reaching the level of the niche when he reached a height of six meters. The light emanating from below shimmered in a pallid gray hue, and finally morphed into the ethereal silhouette of a supine figure as he approached.
"O venerable Ilberius of the Orthans, I am Brad Silverhilt, hailing you, a knight from the Knighthood of Illuen. With utmost urgency and profound significance, I present myself before your exalted presence, beseeching the unfathomable depths of your wisdom on behalf of my cherished homeland," he proclaimed, his voice resounding with an unintended potency.
In an instant, the elderly man stirred to life, channeling his entire wrath and regality toward him. His visage bore the marks of grotesqueness and etched furrows. With a sudden surge of motion, his disheveled mane of long, fractured tresses stood erect as if struck by celestial lightning, cascading wildly. Angrily foaming at the mouth, his missing teeth were exposed. His narrowed eyes squinted even further within the labyrinthine folds of aged skin, and his brows, contorted akin to the bristles of a bewitched broom, furrowed deeply. Uplifting his hands in the air, he emitted a snarl, not echoing that of a mere irascible elder, but rather that of a formidable creature.
To many, he exuded an aura suffused with undiluted intimidation, yet the young man facing him remained unwavering, unshaken by even a solitary tremor. Meanwhile, Caleb had already sought refuge behind the hallowed marble biers.
"I hold in highest regard your indomitable spirit, young one. You do not cower in the presence of the nether realm. It is not a flippant audacity born of naivety, but rather an intrinsic quality etched deeply within the very core of your being. Verily, an exceedingly rare attribute," the elderly man's countenance underwent an abrupt metamorphosis, transitioning into a gentle and amicable aspect.
Ilberius then descended leisurely toward the ground. In the midst of this, he cast a glance toward Caleb. "You again? Did I not expressly forbid your return to this realm? If your master seeks to pose inquiries, let him appear in person. I yearn to lay eyes upon him," he reprimanded Caleb sternly.
Caleb bowed with profound respect and addressed him, "I shall faithfully relay your message, esteemed Ilberius. However, this matter is truly exceptional. If you lend your ear to the Knight Silverhilt, all shall become clear."
While their conversation unfolded, Brad executed a controlled descent, gracefully reaching the ground level. Intuiting the elderly man's anticipation of his words, he composed his thoughts and commenced his discourse.
"Not too long past, I crossed paths with Charlotta, a sorceress whose lineage she claims stretches back to the ancient bloodline of Charl. She proudly declares herself as the granddaughter of the illustrious sorcerer, Charlattan. It became evident that this venerable spellcaster possessed a fragment of the Book of the Damned, and now that very fragment finds its abode in the clutches of sorceress Charlotta..."
Ilberius raised his hand, interjecting with authority, "That shall suffice," effectively halting the knight's speech. "Attan was naught but a wayward conjurer, destined to fade into the recesses of oblivion within the annals of history. However, what truly captivates my curiosity is... Why do you, noble knight, embark on this quest for the enchanted artifact?" he inquired.
"Because it is an ominous and bewitched object, and as a knight, it is incumbent upon me to bring it to an end," Brad responded.
"A rather pedestrian and limited rejoinder. It hardly befits a knight of your caliber. Yet, your spirit radiates with an incandescent luminosity," Ilberius commented.
"What do you mean, esteemed Ilberius?" Brad inquired.
Ilberius emitted a brief laughter before commencing a leisurely pacing. "I discern it, you harbor an unyielding detestation for this place, permeating every fiber of your being. It gnaws at your core. Is that not so?" he probed.
Brad remained silent, abstaining from comment.
Undeterred, Ilberius continued his perambulation, his words trailing behind. "This artifact, the Book of the Damned, must vex you, for it disturbs the delicate equilibrium. Much like the intricate sentiments I presently stir within you."
"I bear no personal enmity towards you. It is simply that this environment fails to evoke my fondness," Brad declared with unwavering emphasis, in response to persistent insistence.
"I am an entity that exists outside the bounds of this world's nature. Do you not harbor a desire to end my existence?" Ilberius inquired, his expression marked by bewilderment as he reclined upon one of the majestic marble biers.
"Nay," Brad replied serenely, his countenance composed and tranquil.
"Intriguing. Brad Silverhilt, your essence eludes complete decipherment. You embody the essence of a smoldering volcano on one hand, while possessing a serene mind on the other. Shall it be your heart or your intellect that ultimately shapes your course?" Ilberius paused, his gaze ascending to the ceiling as he idly scratched his chin with his fingers. "Perchance you remain unaware of the precise juncture at which it shall unfold. How wondrous."
"Should you adopt a more rational discourse, then shall we engage in dialogue," Brad sternly retorted, drawing nearer.
"Which deity does claim your allegiance?" Ilberius inquired.
"Verily, I am a devout follower of Orion, the God of Illumination," Brad responded.
"By whose hand was this doctrine bestowed upon you?" Ilberius probed.
"I was chosen by Lady Illaine, the exalted High Priestess of the Temple of Orion, and received training as a knight of the temple for a time. Yet, I later swore fealty to the path set forth by Commander Illuen D'harven," Brad elucidated.