Verdisel lay upon the cold earth, not yet fully conscious. The chill seeped into him, stirring his senses, and as he regained awareness, he was first greeted by a surge of immense pain radiating through his body. He pushed himself upright and saw, before him, a tear in space that gradually shrank until it vanished completely.
"Cold," he muttered to no one in particular, his voice raspy, a side effect of traversing realms.
Rising to his feet, Verdisel finally took in his surroundings. The sky above was bare of clouds, coloured a red so deep it stained everything around him. High above, two moons cast the light that illuminated the world before him. He stood in the midst of an empty graveyard, scattered with hundreds of stones marking lives long lost. Some stones lay shattered and broken, while others stood defiantly strong, even after the Terrors' corruption. Far ahead, a towering cathedral loomed, vast beyond human comprehension. Its spires spiralled upward, and the ancient stone seemed to echo a time long past. Most peculiar, the cathedral floated in the air, taking with it a portion of the earth beneath. Verdisel began his approach, passing the stones of the dead. Here and there, he read a name, but most inscriptions had faded over time, reduced to fragments or icons—likely symbols of old faiths. A cold wind whipped against his bare skin; he knew he would need to find clothes soon. The prison rags he'd journeyed in had been torn from him when he crossed realms. He had also lost his sword, or at least its blessing. Once a holy blade—gleaming and thought unbreakable—it now lay broken in half, jagged at its tip. He could still wield it, but its magic was lost. As he trudged through the graveyard, he realised not only his sword's power had faded; he could no longer bend the elements to his will, feeling only the faintest echo of the control he once had.
At last, after several minutes, he stood before the floating cathedral. It hovered tens of metres above the ground, leaving an enormous crater below. He dared not approach the crater's edge, wary of boulders or debris that might fall from the cathedral and crush him, ending his mission before it had begun. The cathedral entrance was visible—massive double doors crafted from wood, with a staircase leading up to them—yet the staircase floated far too high above him to reach. Instead, he circled the crater's edge, searching for another way in.
As he walked, numbness crept through his body from the cold. Nearly a quarter of the way around, he still found nothing. Scanning the desolate landscape, he saw only endless graves stretching to the edge of his vision. He knew this cathedral was his only choice.
"Galvacaniva," he rasped. "If you can hear me, grant me your blessing." He waited, but when no answer came, he continued his path.
At last, quarter way around the crater, he encountered something notable. Lying near the crater's edge was a fallen knight, nearly twice his height. The knight's battered steel armour bore dents, and one arm twisted at an unnatural angle. His unbroken arm still held a massive sword, one Verdisel would struggle to wield even with both hands. Standing over the corpse, Verdisel bent down, curiosity driving him to remove the knight's helmet. As he lifted it, he found a dark-skinned man beneath, his matted hair framing a face with eyes still alive. Verdisel spoke first.
"I… I'm sorry," he said, uncertain. The man opened his mouth to respond but was overcome by a rattling cough, blood splattering across his armour.
"There is nothing here for you, mortal. Only death. Death and Terror." His voice was deep, hoarse, weighted with sadness and fear.
"Unfortunately, I seek the Terrors," Verdisel replied, and the knight shook his head. "How do I get up there?" Verdisel asked, gesturing to the cathedral.
The knight laughed, or tried to.
"Unless you're an abyssal, or Tosidon himself, your fate would be worse than mine." He pointed at Verdisel's exposed body. "You wear neither weapon nor armour, yet hope to face gods and spirits. Even the ancients like me would end you with ease. Are you an abyssal?" Verdisel shook his head, unsure of the word's meaning. The man laughed bitterly.
"Then you are truly a fool. But if you wish to die, so be it—I can hardly blame you." The knight traced a circle, opening a void in space. The inky blackness was much like the tear Verdisel had used to enter this world, though smaller. Reaching inside, the knight pulled out a glowing white orb, casting light that illuminated their surroundings, reflecting off his battered armour. The effort seemed to drain the knight further, likely consuming the last of his strength.
"Take my spirit. I have no use for it now, and you seem to have none yourself," he said, his voice weakening. "I don't know who or what you are, but you are making a grave mistake. Turn back; there is no place for you in this shattered world." With those words, he died, his hand falling limp, and the orb rolled onto the dirt. Verdisel picked it up; it felt impossibly light, like holding pure nothingness. Though he understood little of this world's nature, the orb's presence sparked an urge within him to consume it. Taking a deep breath, he let the soul's essence flow into his being. As it did, his own spirit-space filled, bringing a long-lost sense of wholeness and understanding.
With the knight's spirit absorbed, Verdisel sensed a pathway through the void waiting to be opened. Though he hardly understood realm-stepping, his god had always been cryptic; slaves had no right to knowledge. Still, he had done it to enter this world and would do it again. First, he returned to the fallen knight and took up the massive sword. It was cumbersome, unnatural in his grip, yet he knew it would be necessary against the evils within the cathedral.
Touching the void with his mind, Verdisel traced a large circle for himself to step through. As he moved his hand, the world tore open like a fresh wound, revealing an abyssal blackness. His nerves frayed, wary of the toll the void had taken on his body before, though he hoped the shorter journey would be manageable. Testing the void with his hand, he felt its strange touch, then leapt through.
Verdisel emerged from the pathway and landed flat on the stone before him. He glanced around, trying to determine where the lords of darkness had cast him, but it didn't take long to realise he was on the staircase leading to the cathedral entrance. He sat on the steps, near the edge, and looked out over the terrain from this vantage. From the height, he could see the graveyard stretched on endlessly, gravestones blanketing the land as far as his eyes could reach. In the southern sky, he glimpsed faint outlines of what seemed like a piece of land suspended in the air. His body ached, though nothing close to the agony he'd felt when he first arrived in this world. He pushed himself up and continued up the steps. Up close, the cathedral's might was overwhelming; even the double doors towered ten times his height. At eye level, a gold plate was fixed to the door, etched with many words. They were foreign to Verdisel, likely the language of the ancients, though he could recognise a few words from his exchanges with Galvacaniva.
Domain of the Fifth Terror. Drazic, void of life.
Reading the words even to himself made Verdisel tremble under the name's weight.
"Drazic," he muttered, placing his hand on the rough wood of the enormous doors and pushing. A deep rumble sounded from the hinges as the door opened slowly, just wide enough for him to pass through. The force pressing out from within nearly crushed his newfound spirit, and the thought of being spiritless again filled him with dread. Determined not to face that hollowness again, he took a steadying breath, allowing resolve to replace his fear. Once his trembling ceased and his heartbeat slowed, he stepped into the cathedral.