The group, battered and exhausted after the battle against the skeletons and golems, stopped at the edge of a new chamber. The silence, previously broken by the din of combat and a distant throbbing, now had a different quality: an oppressive presence, a sonorous void that vibrated in the air, a silent omen of the unknown.
The air in this new space was strangely dry and warm, a sharp contrast to the frigid dampness of the previous corridors. A faint reddish glow, like dying embers in an immense bonfire, emanated from somewhere deep within the chamber, painting the walls with dancing, grotesque shadows. And a strange odor, a mixture of stale incense – used, perhaps, in rituals forgotten by time – and a sweetish, almost cloying and unfamiliar aroma, floated in the air, creating an unreal, dreamlike atmosphere, as if they had crossed the threshold into another plane of existence, far from logic and reason.
Roland, his hand still clenched on the hilt of his sword, where the Mandrake sap had dried into a dark, sticky crust, advanced cautiously, scrutinizing the darkness. Markus, beside him, breathed with difficulty, leaning heavily on his battered shield; the metal, dented, scratched, and now sticky in places from the remains of the spiders, faintly reflected the reddish light. Liam, though less physically injured than his companions, moved with unusual caution, a palpable tension in every muscle, his eyes, sharp and wary, scanning every corner of the chamber, searching for any sign of danger, any hint of movement.
Sebastian, who had lagged behind a bit, felt a shiver run down his spine, despite the heat. It wasn't the fear of an immediate physical threat, but a feeling of unease, of profound disquiet. Something in this place was not right. The absence of sound, the strange light, the smell... everything contributed to a sense of unreality, as if they had entered a surreal painting, where the laws of nature had been suspended.
"What is that smell?" he asked in a low voice, wrinkling his nose. His voice sounded strangely muffled in the silence. "It's... like something's rotting, but at the same time... sweet."
Roland didn't answer immediately. He was concentrating, trying to read the atmosphere, but his "Soul Perception," normally reliable, his internal compass in the darkness, seemed to be failing spectacularly. It was like trying to listen in a completely soundproofed room, or see in absolute darkness. He only felt... emptiness. And a pressure, an oppression in the air, that made it difficult to breathe.
"I don't know," he finally said, his tone revealing his frustration and concern. "But... I don't like it. There's something... unnatural here. My Perception... it's not working right. It's like something is blocking it."
They advanced a few more steps, muscles tense and senses alert. And then, they saw it.
At the end of the corridor, a half-open door, made of a dark and unknown wood, gnarled and twisted like the roots of an ancient tree, revealed an even more intense light, a crimson glow that seemed to throb like an exposed heart.
Roland, with a gesture of his hand, ordered the others to stop. He approached the door, with the caution of a hunter stalking a dangerous beast, and pushed it very slowly, holding his breath.
A metallic creak, sharp and prolonged, like the groan of a hinge that hadn't been oiled in centuries, echoed in the silence, breaking the oppressive stillness and making Sebastian jump.
And then, they saw it.
The source of the reddish light.
In the center of the chamber, floating in mid-air, without any visible support, was an orb. A perfect sphere, of a deep crimson red, that seemed to pulsate with contained energy, as if it were the ripped-out heart of some cosmic creature. It wasn't fire, nor a lamp, nor any natural source of light. It was something else. Something ancient, powerful, and unknown. Its surface, smooth and polished like glass, but warm to the touch (or so Sebastian sensed, without having touched it), reflected the light of the torches, distorting it, creating a hypnotic, almost dizzying effect, that drew the eye and held it, as if it were a magnet for the soul.
And, next to the orb, crouched in a dark corner, like a wounded animal seeking refuge, watching them with a mixture of fear and… curiosity?, was a woman.
A young woman, no more than twenty-three years old, with a curvaceous, but not stout, build. Her skin, pale as milk, contrasted vividly with the dirt and mud that partially covered her, forming irregular patterns, as if she had been crawling on the ground, or perhaps… fighting. Her hair, an unusual green, like dried seaweed or pale jade, fell tangled to her shoulders, framing an angular face with delicate features, now contorted by an expression of intense caution. Her eyes, large and an emerald green even more intense than her hair, shone with their own light, almost feverish, as if they reflected the light of the orb, but without the warmth of a flame. Two small horns, one of them broken near the base, blunt, dull, and grayish in color, vaguely reminiscent of those of a young dragon, but which looked more like malformations, protruded from her head, adding an exotic, almost demonic touch to her appearance. She wore a dress made of dried leaves, in different shades of brown and green, roughly sewn together with what appeared to be vines or thin roots, which barely covered the essentials, exposing much of her shapely legs and arms, now covered in scratches, bruises, and a thin layer of dungeon dust.
"What…?" Roland began to say, his voice surprised, but he stopped, unable to articulate a coherent question. The scene was too strange, too unexpected. The magical orb, the woman with horns… none of it fit with what they expected to find in a monster-infested dungeon.
Sebastian, feeling a mixture of curiosity, concern, and an inexplicable fascination, took a step forward, ignoring the tension emanating from his companions, ignoring the feeling of danger that pressed on his chest.
"Are you alright?" he asked the woman, in a low voice, trying to sound reassuring, approaching slowly, as one would approach a wounded deer. "What are you doing here?"
The woman stared at him, her eyes wide, studying him from head to toe, as if he were a strange creature, a being from another world. She didn't answer. She didn't move. She just observed him, with an intensity that made Sebastian's mouth go dry.
She didn't seem hostile, but not friendly either. Her expression was… indecipherable. A mixture of fear, caution, and… something else? Curiosity? Recognition? It was impossible to know.
Sebastian stopped at a prudent distance, not wanting to scare her further.
"We won't hurt you," he said, in a soft voice, keeping his hands in sight, in a universal gesture of peace. "We just want to know if you need help."
The woman continued to look at him, unblinking, without saying a word. Her breathing was rapid, shallow, and her body, though slender, did not seem weak. There was a tension in her muscles, an alertness in her posture, that suggested that, despite her apparent vulnerability, she was capable of defending herself. Or fleeing.
Then, something in her gaze changed.
Her eyes, of an intense emerald green, shifted for an instant towards the orb.
Towards the crimson sphere that floated in the center of the chamber, pulsating with a silent but palpable energy.
And, in that brief instant, Sebastian thought he saw a flash of… what? Fear? Longing? … Possession?
He didn't know. He couldn't understand it.
But he did know, with absolute certainty, that the woman and the orb were connected.
In some inexplicable, but undeniable way.
"What… what is that?" Sebastian asked, pointing to the orb with a gesture of his head, trying to break the silence, trying to get some response from the mysterious woman.
But the woman didn't answer. She just looked back at him, with an expression that was now, definitely, one of fear.
Markus, breaking his silence, approached them, with slow, heavy steps. His hand, instinctively, went to the hilt of his warhammer.
"Don't trust her, Sebastian," he said, in a deep, resonant voice. "It could be a trap. An illusion. Or something worse."
"I don't think so, Markus," Sebastian said, without taking his eyes off the woman. "I don't feel… evil in her. Just… fear."
"Fear can be a weapon as dangerous as magic," Markus replied, unyielding. "Don't let your guard down."
Liam, who had remained on the sidelines, observing the scene with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism, intervened.
"Let the girl speak," he said. "Or… try to speak. Maybe she knows something about this place. About that… thing." He pointed to the orb with a gesture of his dagger.
Roland, who had remained silent, listening and observing, nodded.
"Liam is right," he said. "We can't jump to conclusions. But we can't let our guard down either." He turned to Sebastian. "Try to communicate with her, lad. But carefully. And don't get too close to that orb."
Sebastian nodded, feeling the tension rising around him. He turned back to the woman and gave her a smile, trying to convey confidence.
"We don't want to hurt you," he repeated, in a soft voice. "We just want to know who you are. And what you're doing here."
The woman stared at him, and then, slowly, very slowly, shook her head.
She said nothing. She just shook her head.
"You… you can't speak?" Sebastian asked, confused.
The woman shook her head again.
"You don't want to speak?" Sebastian insisted.
This time, the woman didn't answer. She just looked at him, with an expression that was both sad and defiant.
Sebastian, feeling a mixture of frustration and intrigue, was about to ask another question when a memory struck him.
A memory of his childhood.
A memory of his father, a herbalist and healer, teaching him to read the language of plants, of animals… and of people who could not, or would not, speak.
You don't always need words, his father had told him, in his deep, kind voice. Sometimes, a look, a gesture, a… feeling is enough. Listen with your heart, Sebastian, not just with your ears.
And then, Sebastian tried it.
He crouched down, slowly, without taking his eyes off the woman, and reached into his bag.
He took out a small glass jar, filled with an ointment of Moonwort, a plant known for its healing and calming properties.
"This… will help you," he said, showing the jar to the woman, not expecting a verbal response. "It's for wounds. For pain."
The woman looked at him, her eyes wide, not understanding the words, but grasping, perhaps, the intention behind them.
Sebastian, without saying anything else, approached her, very slowly, carefully not to frighten her, as he would approach an injured bird.
He knelt before her, at a prudent distance, maintaining eye contact, and offered her the jar, with his palm open.
The woman looked at him, then at the jar, then back at him. Her expression was a mixture of distrust and… hope?
A few seconds passed, long, tense, in which the only sound was the dull, distant throb that seemed to emanate from the depths of the dungeon, and the subtle, almost imperceptible hum of the orb.
Finally, the woman extended a trembling hand, covered in dried mud and scratches, and took the jar.
She did it carefully, as if she feared it would break, or that it would burn her.
She brought it to her nose and smelled the contents.
Her face, previously contorted by fear and distrust, relaxed slightly. A subtle easing of the muscles around her eyes, a slight lessening of the tension in her jaw, almost imperceptible. She said nothing. She made no sound. But, in her gaze, in the way her fingers, now less trembling, caressed the small glass jar, Sebastian thought he saw a flicker of relief. And, perhaps, even gratitude. A silent thank you, transmitted across the barrier of language, of species, of fear.
Sebastian was about to try, again, to communicate with her, to find some way to understand her situation, or at least, to offer her more help, when a movement to his right caught his attention.
Liam.
He had moved. Not much, just a step or two, but enough for Sebastian to notice. He was looking at the orb. Not with fear, nor with Roland's caution, nor with Markus's concern. He was looking at it with… interest. A growing, palpable interest.
"What do you think it is?" Liam asked, in a low voice, without taking his eyes off the crimson sphere. His voice wasn't hostile, or threatening. It was, simply… curious.
Roland, who was watching the woman with a mixture of suspicion and concern, turned to Liam. "What does it matter what it is?" he said. "The important thing is that we don't know what it does. It could be anything. A trap. A weapon. A portal to… who knows where."
"Or a treasure," Liam murmured, almost to himself.
Sebastian, feeling a slight chill, sensed where Liam's thoughts were going.
Markus, who was closest to the woman, frowned. "Don't start, Liam," he said, in a low voice. "We've had enough trouble for today."
Liam, ignoring Markus, took another step towards the orb. "I'm just saying… it could be something valuable. Something that… could help us."
"Help us with what?" Roland asked, with a warning tone in his voice. "Liam, remember our mission. We came here to investigate the goblin activity, not to look for treasure."
Liam stopped, but he didn't back down. He looked at Roland, then at Markus, then at Sebastian. His expression was… strange. A mixture of defiance, excitement, and… desperation?
"What if this…," he said, pointing to the orb with a gesture of his head, "…had something to do with the goblins? What if it were the key to everything?"
"Or what if it was a danger even greater than the Goblins?" Asked Markus, with a tired tone.
It was at that moment, with Markus' words floating in the tension-filled air, that a memory assaulted Roland.
The tavern. The night they met. The smoke, the beer, the laughter… and the promises.
He saw himself, young, reckless, full of dreams, toasting with Markus and Liam.
We'll be rich, Markus had said.
We'll be powerful, Liam had added.
And we'll always be together, Roland had concluded, sealing the pact with a clash of mugs.
A pact.
A promise.
A promise that, now, in the darkness of the dungeon, facing a mysterious woman and an enigmatic orb, felt heavy, complex, difficult to keep.
He returned to the present.
The orb was still there, pulsing softly, emitting its red and mysterious light.
Liam was still looking at it, with an increasingly intense expression.
"We don't know, Markus," Liam said, answering his companion's question, his voice now with a different nuance, a tone that Sebastian found disturbing. "We don't know. But… what if it were? What if this orb… were the answer to all our problems?"
His gaze turned to Roland. "Roland," he said, in a pleading voice, "…you've always said that you have to take advantage of opportunities. That you have to take risks to win. Isn't this… an opportunity?"
The tension in the chamber became dense, palpable.
Sebastian looked at Roland, at Markus, at Liam, and then at the woman, who was still crouched in her corner, observing them all with her large green eyes, without saying anything, without revealing anything.
Markus nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the woman. Doubt was reflected in his face. He too remembered those early days, the laughter, the promises. Loyalty to Roland and Liam ran deep, a bond that transcended mere expeditions. But the thought of taking advantage of this strange situation, or worse, harming a defenseless creature, churned his stomach.
"I'm not so sure, Liam," Markus said in a tired voice, rubbing his beard with a scarred hand. "This woman... she doesn't seem like a threat. And Sebastian is right. This is not what we came for."
"Not what we came for?" Liam repeated with a hard look, his eyes shining with an almost feverish intensity. "After all we've risked? After all the battles we've fought? Are we going to give up an opportunity like this for… cheap sentimentality?" His hand tightened around the hilt of his dagger.
The tension in the room thickened. Glances were exchanged, heavy with doubt, ambition, and conflict. The orb's glow seemed to intensify, casting shadows that danced on the walls, like a premonition of the brewing storm.
Roland sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. The promise he made to Markus and Liam echoed in his mind, but so did his growing friendship with Sebastian and the image of the frightened woman huddled in the corner. The dilemma tormented him, tearing him between two loyalties.
"We need to think this through calmly," Roland finally said, trying to ease the growing tension, although his own voice sounded unsure. "Let's not make any rash decisions."
But the seed of discord had already been planted, sprouting quickly in the chamber's charged atmosphere, fed by uncertainty, ambition, and the fear of the unknown. The orb, silent and enigmatic, continued to pulse, like a silent witness to the fragility of human bonds in the face of the temptation of power.