The group of twelve men stood paralyzed in the oppressive stillness of the cavern. The flickering light licked at the rough walls, throwing jagged shadows that seemed to writhe like living things. The air was damp and suffocating, carrying a foul, metallic stench that turned their stomachs and made their throats tighten.
There she was: the body. An old black woman lay crumpled in a grotesque heap at the center of the ritual circle, her twisted form surrounded by dark symbols carved deep into the stone floor. Her limbs bent at unnatural angles, the skin stretched taut over bone as though her flesh had been drained away by some malevolent force.
Her face was a horrific mask of torment. The skin was dry, cracked, and puckered, pulled so tight over her skull that it seemed ready to split. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream, teeth blackened and jagged, as if frozen in the final, unbearable moment of her agony.
Her eyes, no, the black, hollow voids where her eyes should have been, seemed to bore into each of them. It was as if she could see them, judge them, even in death. The sockets glistened faintly in the low light, as though something wet and unspeakable still lingered there.
A shuddering breath escaped one of the men, a sharp, involuntary gasp that shattered the silence. Another stumbled back, nearly losing his footing, his wide eyes darting to the symbols on the floor as if they might suddenly come alive. The cavern itself felt wrong, alive in its stillness, the weight of the unseen pressing down on them like a predator waiting to strike.
One man, with trembling hands, whispered: "She... she shouldn't look like that. No body should look like that." His words were barely audible over the pounding of their hearts, but they carried a primal terror that echoed in all of them.
A faint noise,a low, wet squelch, rose from somewhere deep in the cavern, as if the shadows themselves were shifting, watching. The men froze, their blood turning to ice, the sound crawling up their spines.
"She's watching us," another choked out, though none dared to meet her empty gaze again. Fear turned to a maddening sense of being trapped, surrounded by something far older and darker than they could comprehend. Whatever had been done here, whatever power had claimed this woman, it hadn't left. And now it had noticed them.
Even though Eoghan's face was blanched and his hands were trembling, he stepped forward bravely as the leader of the group. He drew in a shaky breath, trying to steady his own voice so his men wouldn't lose their nerve.
"Stay calm, men," he commanded, his voice as firm as he could manage. "We won't let this scare us. We've got a job to do, and we're going to do it. Whatever happened here, we'll find the answers. But we can't help anyone if we're running scared like frightened children."
The men met his gaze with a mixture of gratitude and anxiety, but the reassurance in Eoghan's voice did help to calm them down a bit. They still felt the stifling atmosphere, the oppressive heat, and the sense of being watched, but now they also had the strength of their leader to rely on.
"Stick together," he continued, his voice a quiet whisper now. "Keep your eyes open, and don't let anything catch us off guard." He scanned the darkness around them with a grim look, his jaw clenched. "We're in this together, men. We're getting out of here, and we're going to find out what the hell is happening here."
The men nodded, their faces still pale and eyes still wide with terror. But under Eoghan's steadying presence, they managed to pull themselves together, if just a little.
He looked at the body and then up at his men. The thought of touching the corpse was repulsive, but they couldn't leave it here. He took a deep breath.
"Alright," he said gruffly, trying to sound like he wasn't feeling the same nausea as the others. "We've got to take her with us. We can't leave her here."
The other men nodded silently, their faces grim. It wasn't going to be a pleasant task, but it had to be done
"We're camping out for the night," Eoghan announced, his voice gruff but authoritative. "We can't be wandering around in the dark."
The other men didn't argue, the thought of staying in this place an instant longer was unpleasant. They nodded, their faces etched with grim determination.
Eoghan crouched down beside the body, and with a steeled expression, he lifted it into his arms. Even though he was a strong man, the body felt unnaturally light, almost like it wasn't quite of this world. He swallowed his disgust, feeling the cold, clammy skin against his fingertips as he held her.
His eyes scanned the immediate surroundings, looking for a place to hunker down, a less suffocating spot than the ominous cavern.
After a few moment, he pointed to a spot about ten meters away. "There," he said, a tinge of weariness in his voice. "That spot looks secure enough for now. We'll set up camp there for the night. No one leaves the circle of light. Clear?"
The men nodded in understanding, glad to have some direction and to be leaving this grim place. They followed their leader towards the spot, their eyes darting around the surrounding darkness, their every instinct on high alert.
They began setting up their tents and supplies. It was a tense affair, each man casting nervous glances over his shoulder, half-expecting something eerie to appear from the shadows. But as the campsite slowly took shape, there was a slight sense of security. The tents now formed a small, artificial island in the darkness, and the light from their lanterns created a flickering bubble around them.
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∆ ☆▽ ATHERAMOND ▽☆ ∆
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As the night deepened, a silence fell on the camp, a hush broken only by the sound of their breathing and the occasional crackle of the fire. Each man was lost in his own dark thoughts, the horror of what they witnessed still vivid in their minds. But for now, surrounded by the flickering light, they felt somewhat reassured, like they were in a safe, if temporary, sanctuary.
Eoghan, the weight of his role as leader evident on his weary face, sat a little apart from the others, brooding. He was a burly and experienced huntsman who had spent his entire life in the forests and mountains. He was a man of few words, but those few were always direct and to the point. His face was carved with lines from years in the wilderness, and his hands spoke of the hard work he had done throughout his life. He had long blonde hair, with green eyes.
There was an aura of authority and determination about him that inspired confidence in his fellow men, especially in difficult situations like this. His eyes were sharp, his senses taut, and his will unshakeable, making him the perfect leader for their current mission.
He was lost in thought, going over their day's findings over and over again in his mind, trying to make sense of it all. It was an impossible task, made even more difficult by the exhaustion weighing down on him.
He glanced at the other men, all of them in similar state of mind, their faces drawn and tense, their bodies curled tightly around the fire. The light danced on their faces, casting shadows that made their eyes look hollow and their features gaunt. Even in the dim light, they all looked haunted, their spirits weighed down by the sinister events of the day.
Gunder, the oldest member of the group, hobbled over to where Eoghan was sitting. His face was lined with deep wrinkles, making him look far older than his years.
He lowered himself heavily onto the ground next to the green eyed man, grunting as his old bones protested the movement. Despite his grumbling though, there was wisdom and experience in his weary eyes.
Gunder settled himself with a sigh, his body weary but his eyes piercing as they settled on his leader. "You look like you've got the weight of the world on those shoulders," he said gruffly.
The blonde looked up at Gunder, the firelight casting shadows across his tired face. "Feels like I do," he admitted, his voice flat. "It's not the first time, but there's something about this place... It's making my skin crawl."
"I've been on many missions in my time," Gunder said, his voice gravelly. "Seen all kinds of horrors. And this..." he gestured around them, "...this feels different. Something's brewing here. Something dark and not of this world."
Eoghan nodded slowly, his eyes distant. "I've always been a man of science," he admitted. "I don't believe in the supernatural, in things that can't be explained by logic. But..." He looked around at the darkness encircling them, the firelight casting flickering shadows around them. "But when I look at all this... when I feel the air, when I think about that body, there's just no logical explanation. It's like we've stepped into a nightmare, and I have no idea how to deal with it."
The old man regarded him, his old eyes sharp. "Logic has its limits, boy," he said pointedly. "Sometimes, there are things that are beyond our understanding. Things so old, so dark, they defy all laws of nature. This... this could be one of those times."
The green eyed man. nodded, his eyes darkening. "I feel it too," he admitted, his voice a whisper. "It's in the air. In the very Earth under our feet. It's like the whole area is...tainted, somehow."
Gunder chuckled wryly. "You might be right there," he said. "I've met evil. Seen its face. And whatever's here... It's more than that. It's something old. Something that's been here longer than any of us. I can almost feel its age, hanging in the air like a choking fog."
"How do we even fight something like that?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire.
Gunder leaned back against his rucksack, his expression grave. "We can't," he said bluntly. "Not outright. Something like this... It doesn't play by the same rules as us. We've got to be careful, watch our backs. And above all..." He paused, his eyes drilling into Eoghan's. "We can't let it get ahold of us. Physically or mentally. Because if we do... We'll be lost."
The leader nodded, the weight of Gunder's words settling heavily on him. He glanced over at the other men, all of them sitting in grim, anxious silence. Each of them was probably thinking the same thing: How were they supposed to face a threat so ancient, so powerful, so completely otherworldly?
Eoghan nodded, a frown on his face. "I'm worried about the village," he admitted. "When we return with the body, people are going to panic. They're going to want answers, and we don't have any. And frankly, I'm not sure we want the truth either. Whatever this is...it's bad, Gunder."
The old man's face became even more grim. "I've seen villages react to things they can't understand," he said, his voice a low rumble. "It's never pretty. There'll be fear, suspicion, wild accusations. Panic brings out the worst in people."
The leader of the group sighed, staring into the fire. "That's what I'm worried about. We don't want a frenzy on our hands. We need to handle this situation sensibly, but I'm not sure that's going to be possible. Once the villagers see that body...there'll be no holding them back."
Gunder let out a weary sigh, his gaze fixed into the flames. "I've seen towns rip themselves apart because of fear," he said grimly. "It's like a fire that spreads from person to person. Once it's started, it's damn near impossible to stop."
The blonde nodded slowly. "You're right," he agreed. "But it's the head of the village's responsibility to keep things under control, to prevent a panic. We'll just have to bring the corpse back and hope the head man can handle the situation. I'm just a huntsman. But I don't envy him. This is going to be a difficult one."
Gunder chuckled dryly, his face creased in amusement. "More difficult than the night we're about to pass, lad?" he repeated, his voice echoing with a sense of foreboding. "You might be underestimating what we're dealing with here. Let me ask you something, and be honest. Have you ever experienced fear so profound, you could taste it? Felt such dread, it settled into your bones like cold, iron chains?"
Eoghan looked up at Gunder, the flickering firelight casting eerie shadows on the old man's face. The words hung heavy in the air, sending a chill down Eoghan's spine. He could see the gleam in Gunder's eyes, the certainty etched into his lined features. It was obvious that Gunder had faced something truly terrible in his lifetime, something that had left a lasting mark on his soul.
The leader swallowed hard, his throat feeling suddenly dry. "No," he answered honestly. "I've never felt anything like that. But from the way you're speaking...I take it you have?"
Gunder nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the fire. "More than once," he admitted in a soft, gravelly voice. "Sometimes, the world throws things at you that make you question everything you thought you knew. Things that'll make you doubt your own sanity, your own courage. This could be one of those times, lad. Be ready for that."
He let out a weary sigh, his old limbs protesting as he shifted to find a comfortable position. "I reckon it's time for me to turn in for the night," he grumbled. "These old bones ain't what they used to be, and I've had enough of this grim business for one day. You young ones keep watch. I'll try to catch some sleep."
"I'm 32 years, you know?" Eoghan chucked
"And? I'm 56, so you're still a kid." The old man replied
With that, he settled back, pulling his cloak tightly around his shoulders. In a few minutes, his breathing slowed and his gruff voice was replaced by the soft sound of him snoring.
The campsite seemed quieter now, the only sounds being the soft crackle of the dying fire and the occasional hoot of an owl somewhere far away. The other men kept watch, their faces taut with tension and their eyes constantly darting around the fringes of the darkness, as if waiting for some unseen danger to materialise.