Shadow of the Abyss

Chapter 217: Evolution or Devolution

Raven snickered soon after, "Is Master shy? Fear not, Master, I, the great Raven, is not ashamed of her body! Nudity is our most natural self."

"Spoken like a true nudist. You really believe that shit?" Altair asked, studying Raven's perky breasts, thin waist, and wide hips. But more than that, her eyes seemed so serene. So carefree, he felt a little bothered, if not jealous.

They were soft like the winds, so ephemeral he feared if he looked away, they lose their luster.

"Of course!" she pointed to her feet. " Those foot prisons seem so stifling. How do you all do it?"

"Foot Prisons?" he tilted his head, mulling what she said over. "You mean shoes?"

Raven nodded. "Yeah. Those things. Gods, I hate those things. Worse thing mankind ever made."

Altair froze, his expression turning rather unusual, "wait a sec, could you always go into human form?"

"Yup. But being a crow is so much cooler. I have wings and a badass beak, and I can Caw loudly. It's so awesome! Not to mention the corn! Master!

Raven loves Corn!" she exclaimed, running in circles around her Master. She beamed like a love-struck child.

"Alhail Corn! Hip-Hip Corn!!!"

'This woman is insane,' Altair thought. He forced a smile and said, "Then how do I get out of here? I'm in danger."

"You can't," Raven said, shaking her head. "You're in a state of spiritual exhaustion. You're stuck here until you mentally and physically heal."

"... I tried calling you guys," he revealed. "what happened?"

"Iliana's isolation barrier stopped us. No idea how, but she did."

Altair looked at the mist obscuring his vision past the edges of the lake.

He sighed, flopping down onto the Black Lake. Raven drew in on him, falling on her knees. She grinned, brushing her hands through his ashen hair.

He glanced up at her then. Finding his eyes wandering toward her naked bosom. They were without blemish. While her nipples were a luscious pink.

'I wonder what she tastes like.' Altair chagrined with the realization that his mind, for the first time, began to wander. He shook his head, though his eyes never strayed, and neither did his manhood, rising with the drums of war. He tried to calm the drum of his heart, to control the flow of breath, to regain some semblance of control.

It was for not.

Shame and guilt struck cords against the prince's heart, unsure why he felt so… frustrated.

'What is wrong with me?' he thought, biting his lip.

Raven did not seem to notice as she ran her fingers through his hair, closing her eyes. "Master… Do you think we'll survive?"

In the midst of his many sensations entwined within his mind's continuous stratum, Altair shifted an eye towards his Protector. Echoes of transcendent awareness coiled through the mind of the Prince like the endless flow of a river. Pain approached, stirring the black lake of the soul that stilled soon after.

"Yes," He said, a confidence protruding from the deepest reaches of his soul. The spiritual nature of his body dimmed, slipping through the fingers of Raven.

She stood petrified, pulled within those scarlet eyes that reflected a nexus of awareness spanning far beyond that of the Myriad Heavens or Arcadia, revealing an abyss. And within the Abyss, she saw its shadow.

The Shadow of the Abyss… The Vale

***

Within the southern tower, one could peer at the four towers of Vesem stained by the scent of blood wafting through the air, clouding the castle in a dreadful silence.

It had been so loud hours ago. Those of Babels Tower, Denizens of Yarwin, and humans were wailing. Screeching cries, howls of mercy, and moanful roars were now bearly audible to mortal ears.

There in the distance, Jorm saw it from up high, the flickers of steel against steel flickering back and forth, fading to nothing. Blood was practically spilling from the northern observatory tower. The area of the sacrifice stained the air with an acrid aroma.

"So it begins," Jorm said, turning his back towards the bloodstain castle. He approached his master in an unfamiliar room. The former king's son had been beheaded the day his father met his end. Cut down by the Knight of Dawn, the Heralds of Astaroth devoured his remains as an offering, alongside the king's daughter and wife.

The slaughter had been led by Tasha, ensuring no one outside the castle walls noticed. She'd laughed then, devouring the delicious sight of Vaquees, fucking the king's wife bowlegged over his corpse before he offered her up just the same.

No one had been spared, their skinned skulls mounted on the walls of the Sothern Tower. The very tower Tasha laid her head. She could still see their pained expression, hear their wails, taste their last breath.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" Tasha asked in a rocking chair beside Altair, studying the skulls on her wall.

Jorm didn't so much as glance her way. It had been his terrible luck that they'd wandered upon her chambers but also a blessing.

"The dagger I describe." He said calmly. "Do you recognize it?"

Tasha struggled. "I went towards the location you told me about but found it empty. Someone must have taken it. I tried looking into the past, but nothing."

Jorm turned to her then. "You… You can look through the past?"

"It's not hard. Though I suppose you need to be at least a ninth star. Altair ought to be able to do it when he gains his fifth star." she folded her legs, lifting the glass of wine to her lips. "Though I suspect that one might be able to see it earlier."

Nia snorted. She'd never been more disgusted with a person than she was with Tasha. From the instance she saw those skulls, she perceived the horrid way they'd all died.

Tasha smirked. "Do I surprise you? You know I'm a devil, right? I do sometimes indulge."

"I—"

"Do not entertain her," Jorm commanded beside his master's bedside. He glanced up at his fellow sister. "All that's important is his survival. We've already lost Aurora. We can't afford to get distracted."

Nia ate her words.

'This one seems to be an excellent commander…' Tasha thought. There was a hint of admiration in her eyes, though it quickly faded.

In retrospect, Talia seemed almost to be enamored with Tasha, falling in love with the sight of the skulls.

"That settles it. I'm going to start collecting the skulls of my victims. I'll make a belt of it. A Victim Belt, if you will. Think Master will approve?"

Through the scattered outburst of discontent, Tasha fell into laughter. "What a cute one you are. I'm sure he'll love it. Who can say no to a pretty little thing like you."

Talia giggled, arching her head triumphantly. She slapped her chest. "Then I shall create me a Victim Belt."

'There both fucking crazy,' Nia thought when she felt a stir within her consciousness. Awareness pulsated from her mind as she whirled to see Altair's trembling lids. A bright smile rose as she charged over.

He opened his eyes, sensing a great weight dragging him down. He couldn't move his body, couldn't move his fingers, much less his toes. A dryness burned at his throat as the sigils of his pupils glowed. He glanced at Nia with an awfully worried expression.

She was shouting, shaking his shoulders, but Altair could neither hear it nor feel it.

The dryness in his throat ached like the prickling of needles along the inner lining of the throat.

"B-B-B-Blood," He mouthed or said, unable to tell which.

Nia didn't hesitate to snatch Drupnir from off Altair's fingers and summoned a veil of Reina's blood, which he'd stored in case of emergencies. Her neck had been the only source of sustenance these past few months, keeping him sane.

Popping the cork, Nia slid the blood down her Prince's mouth, finding the color return to his ashen complexion. She drew out another and another and another until nearly fifteen liters of Reina's blood was consumed. Only then did Altair retain a somewhat healthy complexion.

He grinned, feeling some of his faculties return to him. Still, he found moving his body was too difficult.

"How long was I out?"

"Seventeen Hours," Jorm answered. "We are coming upon the last remaining hours of your deal with Keres."

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"What happened to Aurora." He asked, noticing the slight lack of danger he thought he was in.

Nia took the lead, explaining the strange scene to her master, leaving nothing out.

"Did you send someone to find Ren?"

"She sent Syris," Nia said, pointing up. "She's on guard outside, watching for danger. She's currently monitoring the sacrifice. It looks nearly complete."

'None of that sounds good. But this dagger thing… that's slightly concerning.' He glanced down at the small scar on his palm, nearly faded, and looked towards Tasha, rocking back and forth.

"Do you know something?"

"What can you give me for that info?" Tasha teased, leaning a palm over her chin. She licked her lips, savoring the wine.

"I can tell you my next destination after this," Altair informed her.

"If I were you, I'd journey through Babels Tower. So I'll pass. However, I am interested in the first floor. 'Tag' is so much fun. No matter how strong you are, once touched, you'll be frozen. If touched again, you die."

A little taken back by such a revelation. His lips twitched. "Then what is it you want?"

"Hmmm. Let me come with you. I'd like to openly walk beside you."

Altair narrowed his eyes. "You ask a lot for simple knowledge about a damn dagger."

"I'm a devil. It's what I do."

Staring dead into her profane eyes, Altair mulled over the options given to him and grinned. "Why not? Journey with me. Though, you'll have to keep up."

Tasha chuckled, though her eyes did not. "The dagger Jorm described to me looks to be a dagger from the Age of Mist. Devils, if you don't know, have the innate ability to read every known language within the Myriad Heavens. Call it a gift." She lifted her palm through the air, weaving a sketched image out of mana, mirroring the runes Jorm had drawn for her.

"It's a Blood Curse," She continued. "That's what it reads. Though I've no idea what it does exactly, not without actually seeing the dagger personally."