The floor came to life, as several roots rose and tried to wrap around Vondell.
With his scars still dimly giving off light, he sidestepped the first, sprung back, and dodged the second and third. He swung Surth and she unleashed a wave of smoke and ash, which encased the remaining roots in a stone cast. But in return, her heat became even more unbearable, and his flesh began to meld and become one with her hilt.
Vondell faltered, letting out a short scream. The roots moved again, however this time they did not attack. Instead they shot out dozens of tiny thorns.
He dragged himself to his feet, managing to dance around the first few, before succumbing to pain and fatigue. He used his hand to shield himself from the remaining thorns, and they bit into his flesh.
He grunted as they spurted pure pain into his veins.
"Do you feel it?" the voices asked. "Do you feel her love?"
It was subtle, but Vondell's body felt heavier and itchy.
"I think I do. Her love makes my bollocks itch," he spat, right before another volley of poison thorns came thrashing at him. He tried to sidestep the attack, however, his arm raised instead.
He was caught yet again, and three thorns bit into his neck. They released a cold chill into his veins, that made his body feel even heavier.
The voices laughed.
Another volley of thorns came zipping towards him.
He tried to pull out the ones still inside him but instead, his leg was bent. Three loud thuds rang from the back of his armor, and he felt a gust of air tickle his back. The tickle was quickly replaced by a burning itch that felt like molten lava in his veins.
"I think you should see a healer. Your whore god definitely gave you something," Vondell strained to say, as he lost feeling in his arms. Surth fell to the ground, and he fell to his knees.
~What is this? Poison?~ he thought, as he fought to regain control of his body. Poison wasn't supposed to affect him so badly, he had taken measures to ensure that. Though with how prepared this creature had been so far, perhaps it already knew.
"I do this world a great service, by ridding it of a heretic," the voices spat back.
Vondell kept his eyes open, he knew that if they closed, she would be unleashed. And he did not trust her.
"Still alive?" the voices asked, as the cloaked figure materialized out of roots. It looked down at Vondell, then at Surth. "I will keep your conduit as a trophy," it said.
"But. As a reward for surviving this long, I shall show you my god's love," it said, before stretching out its hands.
"Oh Venerable Mother, hear your child. The seeds have been sown, now it is time to reap. Unleash my covenant."
"Night Mother's hangtree."
The ground beneath Vondell rose up and dozens of roots wrapped around his limbs. He felt like a strawdoll, tossed around and played with as the roots saw fit.
After a few seconds, he was hanging upside down, the roots restraining his arms and legs, and tightening at his throat. His senses were leaving him at this point, but he felt something warm drip onto his face. It rolled down into his mouth, and he got a taste; sweet and metallic.
"How does the blood, of one loved such as I, taste? Do you not wish that you could've offered your god such a sacrifice?" the voices asked.
Vondell's vision left him, however, he knew it was smiling. All forsaken smiled when they were about to offer a prize to their god. All forsaken except him. He seemed to be the only one who understood.
"Stop spou-spouting nonsense. The gods don't even know what love is," Vondell murmured, coughing up blood. Talking seemed to take all the energy he had left.
The cloaked figure laughed. "Someone who has never experienced love, would believe it doesn't exist. But lay witness. The difference between one loved, and one tossed aside."
The roots that held Vondell rushed into his armor and tore into his flesh. He felt waves of pain and fear wreak havoc on his body. His muscles felt like heavy iron, and his bones like thin twigs.
He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came. He did not even have enough left in him to do that much.
"Nyctasha, most venerable mother. I offer to you this heretic's soul."
A sharp pain dug into Vondell's chest, and he felt the chill of the abyss seep in from all around him.
"You were not as difficult to hunt as they said," the figure commented.
The shadows in the room phased away, and the moon's pink light seeped in from the window.
The figure stared at Vondell silently, under the moonlight.
He hung upside down on a tree made of bloody roots, a crystal dagger in his chest. Its branches had wrapped around his neck and limbs, so tightly that they deformed his black armor. At the center of the tree's trunk was the symbol of an eye, hidden behind a veil.
"Not at all difficult." The cloaked figure pushed the dagger deeper into Vondell's chest, before twisting. "I struggle to believe that this was all," it whispered. The dagger's hilt bloomed into a flower, glimmering under the moon's light.
The cloaked figure ripped the flower off and inspected it.
It stared in frozen disbelief, before driving the blade into Vondell's chest again. The flower bloomed once more, and it inspected it, but still, it was frozen in doubt. It stabbed Vondell multiple times now, filling his chest with holes. However every time it inspected the bloomed flower, it was not satisfied.
"What have you done?" it asked inspecting Vondell.
Mirthful laughter filled the room. "My husband hasn't done anything," a woman's voice replied.
The cloaked figure twisted around, and the shadows consumed the room once more.
"But you have," the woman's voice called out again, and the walls were engulfed in black flame, burning the shadowy roots away.
The cloaked figure stumbled, back. "Rooted paths," it whispered, making hand gestures.
"The array my husband set up, or have you forgotten?" the voice asked, as a woman made of black fire appeared beside the bed. She pointed to the purple vial Vondell had left there earlier, admiring it as if it were a miracle of the world.
The cloaked figure held its hand out, and a bow materialized. It drew the bow, before releasing dozens of throne-like arrows at the woman.
The thorns passed through her, as one would expect to pass through fire. She laughed at that, approaching the cloaked figure slowly.
"Venerable Mother, unleash my coven—" the cloaked figure was about to say before its tongue caught flames.
"That whore will not save you now," the woman laughed. "You will pay," she added, appearing behind the cloaked figure right beside Vondell. She moved the strands of his hair to the side, searing his skin.
"You will pay, for bloodying him."
She reappeared beside the figure with a loud crackle. Before it could even move, its entire body was engulfed in black flame. "If you want me to increase the heat, just scream the name Surth," she said, searing the creature's neck with her tongue.
It screamed out in pain, trying what magics it still had available to try and snuff out the flames. But wildfire was not something that could be snuffed.
"Do you feel it?" Surth asked smiling. "Do you feel my love?"
*
That night, as a soul was sacrificed to Urth, Vondell dreamt.
He dreamt of Blackfire.
The same dream he had every night.
A memory.
A premonition.