The heavy air of the crypt pressed against Kaelen's chest like a vice, damp and suffocating. The echoes of his own breathing filled the silence, mingling with the steady drip of moisture from the cracked stone ceiling. His candle's wavering flame cast wild, elongated shadows along the ancient murals.
With every step forward, the stench thickened—no longer just mildew and decay, but something fouler. A rancid, meaty stench of corruption clung to the back of his throat and threatened to make him gag. He pulled his collar higher, though the meager cloth did little to filter the air.
Beneath his gauntleted hand, the ancient tome pulsed faintly against his side. It was subtle—like the heartbeat of something old and restless. It had been reacting ever since he'd entered the cathedral, growing more insistent as he descended into the crypt's bowels.
He knew this place had not been touched by any sane soul for decades, perhaps centuries.
A wide chamber opened before him, carved directly into the bedrock. Here, the true heart of the corruption revealed itself.
Dozens of skeletal remains were scattered across the floor like discarded offerings—warriors, priests, perhaps even those foolish enough to search for the covenant before him. But it was what stood in the chamber's center that froze Kaelen in place.
A towering, blasphemous monument of fused bodies rose into the gloom, their twisted forms contorted in agony. Limbs merged together at impossible angles. Hollow eyes stared outward in eternal horror. The flesh of the dead seemed half-preserved, slick and glistening with some oily secretion that shimmered in the candlelight.
Kaelen could hear faint whispers now.
"Closer..."
The voice was not human.
Then, something stirred.
At the base of the monument, a mass of pulsating flesh shifted violently. A figure uncoiled itself from the grotesque heap — half-man, half-abomination. Its emaciated body was stretched and disfigured; muscle twisted like coiled rope beneath gray, cracked skin. Jagged antler-like bones erupted from its back, each one twitching like grotesque insect limbs. One eye was milky and blind, while the other burned with sickly yellow light.
It exhaled with a wet, rattling gasp. The sound of fluid sloshing inside its ruined lungs sent an involuntary shiver down Kaelen's spine.
Then, it moved.
With unnatural speed, the creature lunged forward, its long talons slicing the air where Kaelen had stood a second before. He barely dodged, throwing himself to the side as the creature's claws shredded through a stone pillar, sending debris clattering across the floor.
Kaelen's blade flashed as he slashed at the beast's exposed flank. The steel bit into corrupted flesh, but instead of blood, a black, tar-like ichor splattered onto the ground, sizzling as if alive. The creature screamed—a sound between an animal's howl and a man's final death rattle.
Kaelen rolled back, breathing heavily. This was no ordinary monster.
Some say sorcery takes from you what it gives. The old words echoed in his mind, unbidden.
Kaelen lunged again, aiming for the creature's exposed throat. The monster swung one of its massive limbs to block the strike. Steel met bone with a sharp ring, sparks showering the stone beneath them.
The creature bellowed in rage, lifting Kaelen clean off his feet and slamming him hard into the cold floor. His breath was knocked from his lungs, and for a brief moment, black spots danced before his eyes. The tome at his side seemed to hum louder, feeding off the growing proximity to the covenant fragment.
The thing loomed over him, its grotesque maw opening wide — far too wide for anything that was ever once human. Rows of broken, splintered teeth jutted from its gums like jagged stalactites. Saliva dripped onto Kaelen's face, burning his skin like acid.
Summoning every ounce of strength, Kaelen twisted his torso and drove his dagger upwards, sinking it deep into the creature's exposed underarm. The beast shrieked and recoiled, thrashing wildly. Seizing the opening, Kaelen scrambled to his feet, grabbed his longsword from the ground, and pressed the attack.
He slashed again and again—precise, methodical strikes. Each blow cleaved through tendon and sinew, slowing the creature's frenzied movements. Finally, with a desperate overhead swing, he severed one of its antlered limbs entirely. The appendage crashed to the ground, still twitching.
The monster stumbled, gurgling, its ichor pouring freely now. It staggered back toward the grotesque monument, as though seeking refuge in the pile of corpses that birthed it.
Kaelen closed the distance and drove his longsword straight into its chest, piercing whatever remained of its blackened heart.
The beast convulsed violently, releasing a final, pitiful screech before collapsing into the pool of its own rot.
The chamber was still once more.
Kaelen stood motionless, chest heaving, as he wiped his blade clean. He could feel it—just beyond the monument now—a hidden recess in the far wall. Slowly, he approached, running his fingers along the carved stone until they found a hidden latch.
With a deep grinding noise, part of the wall shifted, revealing a narrow alcove. Inside lay the first fragment of the Ashen Covenant: a black crystal the size of his fist, pulsing faintly like a dying star.
The moment his fingers brushed against its surface, a surge of cold washed over him. His vision blurred as fragmented whispers invaded his mind.
"This power was not made for you..."
"Yet you seek it still."
"One fragment... of many."
Kaelen clenched his jaw, pushing the voices aside. The cost was steep. He had known it would be. But the blight spreading across Ravenglen would not stop on its own.
Behind him, the corpses that made up the grotesque monument began to quiver again, as if something unseen stirred beneath them. Kaelen turned swiftly, retreating back toward the stairwell.
He wasn't finished here. Not yet. But neither was the cathedral.
The deeper he went, the more he would understand—and the closer he would draw to the terrible truth buried beneath Ravenglen.