The auditorium was a cavernous chamber, modelled after the grand legislative halls present in empires of old. The structure was tiered, with rows of seats rising steeply from the floor to the towering ceiling.
From the highest balcony to the ground below, numerous silhouettes remained perched in their seats. The sounds of shuffling and whispers softly echoing the grand hall.
And, at the apex of the room, four elevated chambers loomed, their tinted windows glinting faintly, reflecting the light of the flickering torches mounting the walls.
Zal stood alone on the central stage as swirling shadows danced around him. This suffocating silence was broken by a voice from one of the chambers above.
"Arbiter Zal, may I ask what prompted you to initiate this council meeting? I trust it is of utmost importance—for your sake." The voice of a middle-aged man reverberated in the hall.
"I am here to demand an explanation." Said Zal, his eyes trained on the chambers above. "Regarding the mission assigned to the mage that I had recruited earlier this month."
"Ah, yes. Claude, was it?" A woman's voice floated down from another chamber, light and silky. "The one who thwarted the summoning of The Afflicter?"
Murmurs rippled through the audience below like waves crashing on a distant shore. Every shadowed figure seemed to bristle at the mention of that name.
"Yes," Zal replied, his tone clipped. "I need to understand why you entrusted him with such a mission. You all know the disturbances in that village cannot be attributed to a mere Voidspawn. This reeks of involvement by cultists."
"Ridiculous!" Barked an elderly man from another chamber above. His raspy voice brimming with indignation. "So what if it is? You know full well why we did this!"
A long, drawn-out sigh echoed from the first chamber. "Zal, he isn't entirely wrong. You claim this boy stopped the ritual, but what evidence do we have beyond your word? We cannot ignore the possibility that this was a ruse by the Plague Bearers. To believe he uncovered and disrupted such a ritual, in the presence of a Sentinel, no less—it stretches credibility."
Zal's sneer was visible even in the dim light. "So, you devised this brilliant plan to throw the boy against the same cult he just fought? To test his allegiance, you sent a rat to shadow him? Did none of you pause to consider the risk? What if he's innocent and perishes in this reckless gambit—or worse, falls into their hands?"
The woman's voice chimed in again, colder this time. "Your concern is duly noted, but let us not forget the precedent. It has been over a century since we recruited a mage raised outside Elysium. The last time we did so... you remember how that ended."
Zal's fists clenched at his sides. He took a long, steadying breath before speaking. "Fine," he muttered, his voice a low growl. "I see this argument is futile." Straightening his spine, he stood tall. "I will vouch for this boy."
A tense silence followed, broken only by the faint creak of the tinted windows above. The middle-aged man's voice cut through. "You know the gravity of such a pledge, Arbiter?"
Zal's gaze swept over the chambers, his eyes burning with a defiance that seemed at odds with his age. "I do. Let this surveillance cease. I will assume full responsibility for the boy's actions."
"And if he proves to be a cultist?" The woman's voice dripped equal parts curiosity and cruelty.
Zal remained silent for a moment before speaking.
"Then I will end him myself!"
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"Hmph!" Charles grunted, hefting thick branches from the forest floor toward Claude. His arms trembling as he managed a grin and dumped the load in front of his companion.
"There!" Charles clapped his hands together, a futile attempt to rid his palms of the damp soil caked into them. "Come on, Claude, do the honours," he said, stepping back as he wildly gestured with his arms.
Claude gave him a flat look before turning his attention to the haphazard pile of wood.
Crackle!
A spark of lavender-hued electricity bloomed into existence, dancing across the branches. In an instant, the pile ignited, the small flame rapidly growing as a soft breeze teased it to life.
The campfire settled into a steady burn, its golden light flickering across their faces as they took their seats nearby.
"So," Charles began, leaning back on his elbows. "Surprised to see me here? Don't blame me for keeping it a secret—I didn't know about this assignment any earlier than you did!" He raised his hand, like a mischievous child swearing an oath.
Claude sighed softly, brushing stray embers from his tunic. "It doesn't matter. We're a day away from our target. Let's just rest here for the night."
"Yes, yes. You're right." Charles nodded, but his curiosity quickly resurfaced. "Hey, do you know what's in the box they gave us?"
"No," Claude admitted, his gaze shifting to the box resting by his feet. He hadn't found a good opportunity to inspect it—until now.
The box was small and rectangular, crafted from dark wood with iron reinforcements along its edges. Claude slid the lid open with a faint creak, revealing its contents.
Inside lay an oil lamp, its surface blackened and weathered, along with several neatly folded sheets of parchment. The lamp's brass handle was tarnished with age, and faint carvings of intertwined serpents adorned its base.
"A lamp?" Charles raised an incredulous eyebrow. "They gave us a lamp? For a mission to investigate the presence of a Voidspawn?"
Claude removed the parchment and scanned the top sheet. "Apparently so," he said, his brow furrowed. He held up the document so Charles could see.
Anomalous Object #279: Lamp of Misery
Background: This lamp originates from the Assur province of Ancient Uru, where a young couple fled persecution from their clans. Their forbidden love led them to the Marduk desert, where they took their vows under starlight, using this lamp to illuminate the barren sands. Tragically, their journey ended when they encountered a void spawn. The lamp, infused with subspace energy during their deaths, has since retained unique properties.
Ability: The lamp emits a crimson glow in the presence of a void spawn. Extensive use requires the recitation of a chant to maintain stability.
Chant:
"In the shadows of love, we sought our escape,
Under stars of despair, our vows did take.
O lamp of sorrow, guide us no more,
Stay thy wrath, and light restore."
Warning: Failure to recite the chant regularly when using Anomalous Object #279 (Lamp of Misery) may result in unpredictable behaviour. The lamp may cease to signal the presence of Voidspawn altogether, rendering it unreliable.
In certain instances, it may even emit irregular, frantic azure flashes—behaviours that, paradoxically, seem to attract Voidspawn rather than ward them off. Such reactions are believed to be a manifestation of the lamp's anger, though the exact nature of this anomaly remains unclear. Proceed with caution.
Charles read the parchment aloud, his lips twitching "You've got to be joking. I'm not reciting that. Especially not to a lamp."
Claude's expression didn't waver. "You'll be in charge of carrying it—and keeping it stable."
"Nope." Charles shook his head vehemently. "No way am I singing some tragic love poem to a lamp."
Yet, his attitude was short-lived and crumbled the moment his eyes met Claude's gaze. "Fine," he muttered, snatching the lamp and muttering under his breath. "It's just you and me, buddy," he said, addressing the lamp.
To his shock, the lamp flickered with a soft, yellow glow, almost as if responding. Charles stared at it, slack-jawed, while Claude faintly shook his head.
The pair resumed their journey at dawn, the forest gradually giving way to the outskirts of their target village. As they neared, the sound of giggles reached their ears—childlike, innocent.
"Looks like the village kids are doing well!" Charles remarked, his grin broadening. Claude shot him a scathing glance. "Did you even read the mission briefing?"
"What?" Charles shrugged.
Ignoring the antics of his companion, Claude pressed onward towards the village. As they stepped into the clearing marking the edge of the village, a group of villagers spotted them.
Yet, the villagers regarded them with a detached indifference, their expressions blank. Eyes lingered on Claude and Charles only long enough to assess them before quickly shifting away.
"That's strange," Charles muttered. "Didn't they request help? Why are they acting so—"
"Something's wrong." Claude raised a hand, silencing him. "Stay alert."
What had appeared to be a normal village slowly twisted into something different, something darker. It was as if the very earth beneath it had opened into the gaping maw of a malevolent beast, one both hungry and waiting.