Dovbush.
As we emerged from the hidden rocks beneath the Carpathians, the stark beauty of the ancient mountains enveloped us in an almost sacred silence. The journey through my otherworld had been a shortcut, a way to traverse distances unseen and untouched, but now, back in the tangible world, the reality of our quest weighed heavily upon us. The riddle given by the Hat Man, cryptic as it was, hinted at a trail we were to follow—one that required an understanding of both the literal and the mythical landscapes that sprawled before us.
"Follow the trail of the fallen stars. Where they align, the path opens," I repeated the Hat Man's words, scanning the horizon for any clue that might resemble his poetic instructions. The Carpathians, with their dense forests and hidden valleys, were steeped in legends of celestial events—comets and meteor showers that local folklore often interpreted as omens or messages from the divine.
Liora unfolded a map, her fingers tracing the contours and symbols that marked old astrological events noted by ancient scholars of the region. "If we consider 'fallen stars' to mean meteor strikes, we might be looking for places known for such phenomena. There's a valley, not far from here, where a great fireball was said to have fallen centuries ago, burning the forest and leaving behind a crater that the locals deemed sacred."
Guy nodded, his gaze following the line Liora pointed out. "Makes sense. Let's head there first. It's not just the physical journey but deciphering the legends that will guide us."
We trekked through rugged terrain, the dense underbrush and steep inclines challenging even for seasoned hikers like us. Every so often, we would stop, consulting the map, ensuring that each step was taken with purpose towards our mythical landmark.
As we walked, I couldn't help but feel a sense of slipping into another time, where the boundaries between myth and reality were blurred. The Carpathians were more than just mountains; they were a repository of stories, of secrets held tight by the ancient rocks and whispering winds.
"The path of the fallen stars... It's not just a direction, is it? It's a pilgrimage, a journey through myth itself," I mused aloud, feeling the weight of centuries under my feet.
"Exactly," Liora responded, her voice tinged with excitement. "These places, charged with stories, they hold the keys to unlocking what we seek. The Codex isn't just hidden; it's ensconced in mystery, protected by the very lore that surrounds it."
Hours passed as we followed what we believed to be the trail of the fallen stars, each step forward a deciphering of the riddle spoken by a being who was as much a part of the myth as the Codex we sought. Finally, as the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the land, we arrived at the edge of a vast crater.
The air here felt different—charged, as if the earth still remembered the impact that had created this hollow. At the center, a pool of water reflected the twilight sky, undisturbed and clear.
"This has to be it," Guy said, his voice low, almost reverent. "Where the fallen star came to rest."
The crater lay before us, a gaping wound in the earth marked by ancient power and celestial fury. Its edges were steep and the center was filled with a mirror-like pool that seemed to pull at the soul, inviting yet foreboding. Liora, ever the brave soul, was about to step over the rim and descend into its depths when both Guy and I instinctively shouted a sharp warning.
"Liora, hold!" I commanded, my voice slicing through the stillness with sharp urgency.
"Absolutely still!" Guy's voice boomed, echoing off the crater walls as he scanned the ground with hawk-like vigilance.
A tense pause hung in the air, thick with unspoken fears. Liora froze, her foot hovering just above the crater's edge, her expression flicking from confusion to concern.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice a whisper against the quiet of the forest.
"Hidden under the veil of sorcery lies death itself," I explained quickly, my gaze fixed on the seemingly innocuous ground. The magic here was malignant, woven into the very earth with intent and power, a safeguard against intrusion.
Without another word, Guy raised his revolvers, aiming with a precision born of years battling the supernatural. Two shots rang out, echoing against the trees. They were aimed just to the side of Liora's left wrist and right foot. Where the bullets struck, the earth seemed to shudder, and two grey tendrils, almost invisible against the ground, materialized from the impact. They writhed in agony, turning to dust and flowing away with the passing breeze.
I began to chant. What began as a silent shimmer of witchcraft around the crater soon erupted into a visible storm of dark tendrils that surged toward us with a deadly intent.
"In omni verbo virtutis hoc velum concutiet." I intoned, my voice rising over the sounds of the forest.
Each word I spoke seemed to draw forth a more aggressive assault from the ancient spells woven around this mysterious place. More tendrils, spreading out like evil fractals, shot out in a deliberate attempts to defend their sanctum.
"Recedite, umbrarum hiulca vestra revelate!"
The magic was fiercely fighting to maintain its secrecy and sanctity, but our resolve was stronger. Liora and Guy, ever vigilant, positioned themselves on either side of me, their faces set in grim determination. They were my guardians against the dark magic that now sought to silence my voice. I could see the strain on Liora's face as she summoned barrier after barrier, her hands weaving through the air in swift, precise motions. Her defensive wards shimmered in the air, a faint blue glow that met the gray vines with bursts of light. Each collision echoed through the air like the clash of cymbals, the energy dissipating yet never fully quelling the advancing threat.
"Aetatis mythicae aperite portas."
With each word, the atmosphere around the crater pulsed with energy. Guy, on the other hand, was a tempest of motion. His revolvers thundered continuously, the sound ripping through the air as he fired at the sinuous vines attempting to breach our defenses. His movements were a dance of desperation and precision, each shot well-timed to sever a tendril that darted too close. However, as the onslaught intensified, even his sharpshooting was put to the test.
"I've got your back, mon ami! Just keep chanting!" Guy shouted over the cacophony, magic coalescing into the chambers of his peacemakers with a speed brewed from necessity.
"Maleficia morimini."
The ground trembled slightly underfoot, responding as if the very earth recognized my divine authority.
"Evanescere."
The barrier recoiled with each verse, as if my words inflicted physical blows upon it. A massive wave of tendrils surged forward. Guy was momentarily overwhelmed, his body ensnared by the gray vines that seemed to anticipate and counter every move he made. His shots became erratic, each discharge lighting up his face in a grim spectacle as he fought to free himself. The vines wrapped tighter, pulling at his limbs, but he managed to keep his arms free enough to continue firing, the bullets tearing through the tendrils with desperate ferocity.
"Evanescere!"
The layers of sorcery grew faint. Ripples of force echoing across the surface. Liora's situation grew increasingly dire as well. Dozens of the witchcraft-infused vines encroached upon her, each wave stronger than the last. Her wards flickered under the onslaught, the magical barriers pulsing as they absorbed and deflected the relentless attacks. Despite her formidable power, the vines were relentless, and her defenses began to falter. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she poured more of her energy into sustaining the wards, her voice a strained echo of incantations that barely kept the dark magic at bay.
I felt a surge of dread and anger witnessing their struggle. The weight of their sacrifice, their determination to protect me while I worked to dismantle the barrier, added a fervent edge to my voice. My chant grew louder, more forceful, each word a defiant strike against the dark powers that sought to overwhelm us. A thing thrice repeated is either cursed or blessed.
"EVANESCERE!"
All of the tendrils froze. The entire mass of perturbation dissolved into the wind. The crater's interior, now lay open and exposed. What we beheld was both awe-inspiring and unsettling—a tableau that seemed torn from the pages of an ancient mythological tome.
At the center of the crater, half-buried in the earth and bound by chains that shimmered with a strange, ethereal light, was a being of immense size and palpable power. His features were regal and worn by eons of suffering, his eyes deep wells of wisdom and sorrow. Massive, feathered wings, now tattered and dust-covered, sprawled out behind him, their once-majestic span reduced to mere remnants fluttering in the gentle wind. Seems fallen stars was weighted with a triple entendre.
This was no ordinary creature; this was a dying god, chained to his eternal prison, a figure whispered about in the oldest of stories, often too dreadful to be fully believed.
As we approached cautiously, the being lifted his head, and his gaze fell upon me. There was an immediate recognition—a kind of cosmic acknowledgment that transcended mere sight.
"Brother," his voice rumbled, deep and resonant, echoing off the crater walls.
It was a term that carried weight, an acknowledgment of my own power that I found both amusing and oddly fitting given my not-so-humble assessment of my capabilities.
"Brother, is it?" I replied, my tone laced with sarcasm, yet not devoid of intrigue. "Last I checked, my kin weren't chained up in holes in the ground."
The god chuckled, a sound like a brontide rolling over the hills. "Even in the face of the divine, your hubris is undimmed. It is not by circumstance we are kin, but by the essence of our blood. You, who walk the line between the mortal and the eternal, understand the burdens of such a path."
"And what burdens have kept you here, chained like a beast?" I asked, my eyes scanning the ethereal shackles that held him bound.
The god's gaze turned sorrowful, his eyes reflecting the starlight that trickled into the crater. "I am bound by ancient pacts and celestial decrees, punished for daring to defy the cosmic order. So here I remain, a warning to those who would rise against."
A chill ran down my spine as I considered his fate. Here lies the god who turned his hand against those in the clouds.
"So, you speak of power and its perils," I began, circling back to our quest, "and it seems you were the god of fire and forge, a crafter of things mighty and significant. It leads me to ponder about artifacts of great power—specifically, Chyme's Codex. Would such a thing fall within your realm of expertise?"
The chained god shifted slightly, the orichalcum chains clinking softly against the stony floor of his prison. His eyes, ancient and deep as night, reflected a flicker of recognition at the mention of the Codex.
"Ah, the Codex," he murmured, his voice a blend of nostalgia and sorrow. "Yes, it falls very much within my domain. Chyme's Codex, a compendium of divine knowledge and mortal wisdom, forged in the fires of inspiration and imbued with the essence of creation. It was meant to bridge the gap between the celestial and the terrestrial, a second fire to mankind."
"I know that. Where is the damned thing?" I stated, more a declaration than a question.