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The Mistress of the Shadowland, Second Book, The next Chapter
It is sunday and that means, it is time for a new chapter. Please enjoy and thank you so, so much for reading! ♥
It had led Anwyn through scorched wasteland, the earth soaked with dried blood and ash, countless places where uncontrolled fire had ravaged the land, consuming everything that could not be saved. The few trees that remained were burned down to their black trunks, silhouetted against the dark horizon. Numerous skeletons of animals, humans, and elves lay scattered across the wasteland, as did the remains of goblins, orcs, and creatures she did not recognize.
The sky was covered with such dark clouds that it appeared almost black.
She walked barefoot across the scorched land, and where she expected to see the sea, there was only a greasy gray mist, impenetrable like a wall that could not be overcome.
To the west, she recognized the castle of the Blackwater Lands, standing proudly on the high cliffs, standing out against the darkness, but appearing lifeless. Anwyn began to run, and the faster she approached the fortress, the more she felt that the distance to Blackwater Castle was increasing.
She heard herself screaming, whispering prayers to the gods, sobbing and begging for her loved ones to be safe.
Then suddenly a terrifying roar was heard and Anwyn sank to her knees in terror, pressing her hands to her ears as the piercing pain in them was unbearable. She squeezed her eyes shut, but felt herself swaying on her knees as her sense of balance failed her. An almost pulsating pain formed in Anwyn's head and tears of agony welled up in the corners of her eyes. As the huge dragon, its black scales shimmering like pitch-soaked gold, its eyes red, flew over Anwyn, out of instinct she crouched down and tried to make herself as small as possible.
When Anwyn opened her eyes again, she suddenly found herself standing in an old, weathered crypt. Black, pointed thorns pressed through the stone, seemingly breaking the walls apart, and deep cracks appeared in the old masonry. Shattered roof tiles lay on the floor, and only a single crack allowed a faint ray of light to illuminate the darkness. Anwyn followed the faint silvery beam with her eyes through the shadows, which led directly to an open entrance in the wall.
Slowly and holding her breath she walked past the old sarcophagi of long-dead elves, covered in dust and ash, until she reached the opening in the masonry. She leaned forward cautiously and peered down into the impenetrable, menacing darkness. She saw a staircase leading down into the darkness.
Her heart beating rapidly, Anwyn looked back over her shoulder, anxiously expecting something or someone to be following her, but the silence and desolation of the crypt remained unchanged.
She swallowed and gathered all her courage as she took the first step. Slowly, she felt her way through the darkness, and as she cautiously took one step after another, Anwyn felt a strong sense of unease, as the passage was menacingly narrow and she could hardly see where her path was leading her.
Brightly glowing sparks from a burning fire, the source of which she did not know, swirled slowly in the air, giving her the opportunity to concentrate on the stairs in front of her, which she nevertheless sensed more than she could see.
Step by step, stair by stair, she descended into the unknown depths. As she heard faint cries from afar and the whispering of many tongues in foreign languages, she felt as if cold hands were wrapped around her neck, squeezing slowly but steadily, crushing the breath out of her.
Avernus ...
Was this the path to hell that Anwyn was walking? Down into the darkness, watched from the shadows by countless bloodthirsty eyes? Or had she already passed through Avernus, the burning wasteland with all the corpses and skeletons, the ground soaked with blood, was this a battlefield of the blood war that had lasted for eons?
Anwyn placed her hand against the cold masonry, which felt damp and slippery. As she tried to brace herself with her hand and couldn’t get a safe hold, she almost lost her balance. As another spark whirled past her body, she held her hand in front of her eyes and recoiled with a gasp.
Blood...
A sob broke in her throat and panic filled Anwyn, who ran headlong down the stairs when her foot suddenly stepped into the void and she fell. Falling palm first, she hit the ground so hard that it literally knocked the wind out of her lungs. The skin on her knees and palms burst open and began to bleed. Her chin felt as if it had broken into dozens of pieces on impact, but when she carefully touched it with the fingers of her right hand, she couldn't feel any serious injury.
Nevertheless, the fall had been so violent that for a few seconds she was worried, every bone in her face might have been shattered.
Groaning, she looked up, but the room she was in was dark. Anwyn began to cry, and as she squeezed her eyelids shut to prevent the tears from sliding down her cheeks, she could see a yellowish-reddish glow at the end. Was it a fire?
She sat up with a groan, and suddenly the screams and whispers around her grew louder, closer, seeming to want to engulf her and overwhelm her.
Anwyn felt something reaching for her and jumped aside in panic, lashing out in confusion as a sharp pain shot through her knee.
When something unknown grabbed the hem of her skirt, she screamed and stumbled forward headlong. She could feel the ash and dry earth beneath her feet, and with every step she took, something cold and lifeless seemed to take up more space. Slowly limping, she approached the distant light and noticed that she was now walking on something sharp and hard, almost like glass. Confused, she looked down at the ground and saw herself standing on a river of... lava? Was this lava?
Carefully, Anwyn leaned forward slightly, her hand on her chest to calm her rapidly beating heart, and stared down. The red-yellow liquid was too fluid to be lava, and something dark seemed to be floating in it.
With a pained groan, she sank to her knees to get a better look at what she was standing on when she suddenly let out a panicked scream.
She lost her balance, fell to the side, and was only able to support herself with her left hand at the last moment, as she had covered her mouth with her right hand to stifle the scream.
Corpses... Eyes, cloudy white, followed her every movement, their black mouths open in a pitiful, silent lament, the rotten fingers of their gray bodies, their flesh hanging in shreds from their bones, pressed against the glass floor beneath her.
Countless bodies, countless souls trapped in this hellhole she had stepped into. Anwyn straightened up, pressed her hands to her ears so she wouldn't have to hear their lamentations, their tortured cries, and limped straight ahead toward the light. When she was not too far away, a kind of platform illuminated by several torches came into view. Massive stone pillars could be seen on either side, from which heavy, rusty chains hung down, some with cages attached. With eyes wide with panic, Anwyn stepped closer and looked up at the figures, human-like beings, emaciated, skin rotting, their eye sockets empty, their lips torn away as if a monster had feasted on them.
She lowered her gaze, swaying, and began to cry, desperate, lost, abandoned.
Anwyn felt weak, and with a sob, she gave up. She sank to the ground, her hands pressed against the glass, the red river of misery and death beneath her. Only when she heard the rattling of chains did she look up.
In front of her, just a few steps away, stood a man, upright, his naked body filled with such tension that his arms were pulled upward by the chains on his wrists. His body was covered with numerous cuts, bite wounds, and festering sores. His wrists were rubbed raw to the bone, the wounded flesh had become foul, his head hung so far forward that his long hair fell into his face and covered it.
A cut on his stomach was so deep that his intestines had squeezed through it and slid to the floor, where they now rotted away at his feet.
A desperate sob escaped Anwyn's pale lips, and she heard his voice as he tried to speak.
“An... a...”
Such a tortured howl filled the room that even the lost souls in the river of liquid fire sought refuge.
Anwyn looked up at him, saw the numerous scars carved into his face, the banished skin on his right cheek, the festering blisters. Half of his right lower lip had been cut away, and dried blood stuck to his chin.
Then she stared into his eyes... eyes as turbulent as the wild sea.
“Anwyn...”
She screamed.
It had led Anwyn through scorched wasteland, the earth soaked with dried blood and ash, countless places where uncontrolled fire had ravaged the land, consuming everything that could not be saved. The few trees that remained were burned down to their black trunks, silhouetted against the dark horizon. Numerous skeletons of animals, humans, and elves lay scattered across the wasteland, as did the remains of goblins, orcs, and creatures she did not recognize.
The sky was covered with such dark clouds that it appeared almost black.
She walked barefoot across the scorched land, and where she expected to see the sea, there was only a greasy gray mist, impenetrable like a wall that could not be overcome.
To the west, she recognized the castle of the Blackwater Lands, standing proudly on the high cliffs, standing out against the darkness, but appearing lifeless. Anwyn began to run, and the faster she approached the fortress, the more she felt that the distance to Blackwater Castle was increasing.
She heard herself screaming, whispering prayers to the gods, sobbing and begging for her loved ones to be safe.
Then suddenly a terrifying roar was heard and Anwyn sank to her knees in terror, pressing her hands to her ears as the piercing pain in them was unbearable. She squeezed her eyes shut, but felt herself swaying on her knees as her sense of balance failed her. An almost pulsating pain formed in Anwyn's head and tears of agony welled up in the corners of her eyes. As the huge dragon, its black scales shimmering like pitch-soaked gold, its eyes red, flew over Anwyn, out of instinct she crouched down and tried to make herself as small as possible.
When Anwyn opened her eyes again, she suddenly found herself standing in an old, weathered crypt. Black, pointed thorns pressed through the stone, seemingly breaking the walls apart, and deep cracks appeared in the old masonry. Shattered roof tiles lay on the floor, and only a single crack allowed a faint ray of light to illuminate the darkness. Anwyn followed the faint silvery beam with her eyes through the shadows, which led directly to an open entrance in the wall.
Slowly and holding her breath she walked past the old sarcophagi of long-dead elves, covered in dust and ash, until she reached the opening in the masonry. She leaned forward cautiously and peered down into the impenetrable, menacing darkness. She saw a staircase leading down into the darkness.
Her heart beating rapidly, Anwyn looked back over her shoulder, anxiously expecting something or someone to be following her, but the silence and desolation of the crypt remained unchanged.
She swallowed and gathered all her courage as she took the first step. Slowly, she felt her way through the darkness, and as she cautiously took one step after another, Anwyn felt a strong sense of unease, as the passage was menacingly narrow and she could hardly see where her path was leading her.
Brightly glowing sparks from a burning fire, the source of which she did not know, swirled slowly in the air, giving her the opportunity to concentrate on the stairs in front of her, which she nevertheless sensed more than she could see.
Step by step, stair by stair, she descended into the unknown depths. As she heard faint cries from afar and the whispering of many tongues in foreign languages, she felt as if cold hands were wrapped around her neck, squeezing slowly but steadily, crushing the breath out of her.
Avernus ...
Was this the path to hell that Anwyn was walking? Down into the darkness, watched from the shadows by countless bloodthirsty eyes? Or had she already passed through Avernus, the burning wasteland with all the corpses and skeletons, the ground soaked with blood, was this a battlefield of the blood war that had lasted for eons?
Anwyn placed her hand against the cold masonry, which felt damp and slippery. As she tried to brace herself with her hand and couldn’t get a safe hold, she almost lost her balance. As another spark whirled past her body, she held her hand in front of her eyes and recoiled with a gasp.
Blood...
A sob broke in her throat and panic filled Anwyn, who ran headlong down the stairs when her foot suddenly stepped into the void and she fell. Falling palm first, she hit the ground so hard that it literally knocked the wind out of her lungs. The skin on her knees and palms burst open and began to bleed. Her chin felt as if it had broken into dozens of pieces on impact, but when she carefully touched it with the fingers of her right hand, she couldn't feel any serious injury.
Nevertheless, the fall had been so violent that for a few seconds she was worried, every bone in her face might have been shattered.
Groaning, she looked up, but the room she was in was dark. Anwyn began to cry, and as she squeezed her eyelids shut to prevent the tears from sliding down her cheeks, she could see a yellowish-reddish glow at the end. Was it a fire?
She sat up with a groan, and suddenly the screams and whispers around her grew louder, closer, seeming to want to engulf her and overwhelm her.
Anwyn felt something reaching for her and jumped aside in panic, lashing out in confusion as a sharp pain shot through her knee.
When something unknown grabbed the hem of her skirt, she screamed and stumbled forward headlong. She could feel the ash and dry earth beneath her feet, and with every step she took, something cold and lifeless seemed to take up more space. Slowly limping, she approached the distant light and noticed that she was now walking on something sharp and hard, almost like glass. Confused, she looked down at the ground and saw herself standing on a river of... lava? Was this lava?
Carefully, Anwyn leaned forward slightly, her hand on her chest to calm her rapidly beating heart, and stared down. The red-yellow liquid was too fluid to be lava, and something dark seemed to be floating in it.
With a pained groan, she sank to her knees to get a better look at what she was standing on when she suddenly let out a panicked scream.
She lost her balance, fell to the side, and was only able to support herself with her left hand at the last moment, as she had covered her mouth with her right hand to stifle the scream.
Corpses... Eyes, cloudy white, followed her every movement, their black mouths open in a pitiful, silent lament, the rotten fingers of their gray bodies, their flesh hanging in shreds from their bones, pressed against the glass floor beneath her.
Countless bodies, countless souls trapped in this hellhole she had stepped into. Anwyn straightened up, pressed her hands to her ears so she wouldn't have to hear their lamentations, their tortured cries, and limped straight ahead toward the light. When she was not too far away, a kind of platform illuminated by several torches came into view. Massive stone pillars could be seen on either side, from which heavy, rusty chains hung down, some with cages attached. With eyes wide with panic, Anwyn stepped closer and looked up at the figures, human-like beings, emaciated, skin rotting, their eye sockets empty, their lips torn away as if a monster had feasted on them.
She lowered her gaze, swaying, and began to cry, desperate, lost, abandoned.
Anwyn felt weak, and with a sob, she gave up. She sank to the ground, her hands pressed against the glass, the red river of misery and death beneath her. Only when she heard the rattling of chains did she look up.
In front of her, just a few steps away, stood a man, upright, his naked body filled with such tension that his arms were pulled upward by the chains on his wrists. His body was covered with numerous cuts, bite wounds, and festering sores. His wrists were rubbed raw to the bone, the wounded flesh had become foul, his head hung so far forward that his long hair fell into his face and covered it.
A cut on his stomach was so deep that his intestines had squeezed through it and slid to the floor, where they now rotted away at his feet.
A desperate sob escaped Anwyn's pale lips, and she heard his voice as he tried to speak.
“An... a...”
Such a tortured howl filled the room that even the lost souls in the river of liquid fire sought refuge.
Anwyn looked up at him, saw the numerous scars carved into his face, the banished skin on his right cheek, the festering blisters. Half of his right lower lip had been cut away, and dried blood stuck to his chin.
Then she stared into his eyes... eyes as turbulent as the wild sea.
“Anwyn...”
She screamed.
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Poor Anwyn!!
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