Two darkened hearts were to become one, but they were separated by the threads of Fate.
Now they find themselves stranded in a cold, hostile world alongside only a handful of survivors, ruled over by a dark, omnipresent force.
Though they are not to...
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The room smelled strongly of burning metal and sweat, and the only sounds that filled it were that of labored breathing and the slow rumble of the river. I sat down on the warm metal grate, surrounded on all sides by pieces of scrap steel and automaton limbs. I was across from Jolly, a bearded heavy-set man clad in worn armor. His face, though only dimly illuminated, was very clearly marked with numerous scratches that bled slowly down his face. I silently wondered how easy blood was to clean out of a beard, as I had always made sure I was clean-shaven.
"Ya know, scrag," he began, still catching his breath. "Dunno how ya found me, or why yer naked, but by the gods above I do appreciate ya more than ever now."
"Think nothing of it, my good man." I said. "It has been a long time since I have felt the thrill of battle. Too long, I am afraid."
"Yer alive ain't ya?" he said jokingly. "Sound like ya did fine to me."
My thoughts immediately flashed to Nemenera, the Guardian of Thalor. How he had overpowered me, made me feel weak, useless. He did not employ magic, nor did he resort to trickery, he was simply better than me. I remembered the pain, the sorrow, the regret, how everything came crashing down before my eyes.
"Scrag?" Jolly asked. "Ya alright?"
"Jolly," I began. It was as if I had to force the words out. Something inside me, it wanted me to hide, it wanted me to hold back, but I could not. I had to let him know.
"Jolly, I died." I told him.
For a long, uncomfortable moment, there was silence. It was so quiet, so unbearably tense that not even a fly would dare to buzz near us. Not until Jolly spoke once more.
"So the rumors are true..." he said. "Scrag, I... cannot possibly imagine what you just had to experience. Facing death, it's is bad enough on its own. Experiencing it? Dunno if I would wanna come back to chance it again. Not unless I died happy. Then maybe I'd have another go-around."
"I did not die happy, Jolly." I said. Sweat and tears mixed together, stinging my eyes. "There was this... creature. A statue that came to life, calling itself Nemenera."
"Theris, please tell me you didn't just say that." Jolly said hastily, forgetting to call me 'scrag,' whatever that meant. His bloody face was frozen with a look of wretched fear.
"Do you know of this Nemenera?" I asked.
"He's a warden, scrag." Jolly said, his voice quaking with terror. "Oh, gods, no. Not like this."
"A warden?" I asked. "What does that mean?"
"I've never seen one myself, scrag, but they're pure evil. They're so powerful that they can take on multiple groups of armed, trained men at once and win. Happened in Clemence a few times, and has happened in the Collapse too many times to count. It's said only a marked one can release them from their prisons, and only a marked one can send them to their dooms. Scrag, did you... happen to touch anything before fighting him?"
"A symbol, much like the one on the palm of my hand, carved in to a beautifully handcrafted door." I said. "The artistry rivaled that of the greatest masters of our age."
"Enough about the door, scrag." Jolly said. "What ya did was set him free. Now he can roam about the place as he pleases till he kills the both of us."
"Can we not simply leave?" I asked.
"Dunno, scrag." Jolly said. "Ya seen any exits?"
"What about the trap door that led us here?"
"Sealed off." Jolly said. "Tried to get backup for us, but the damned thing wouldn't budge. It's like this place don't want us to leave until we're, well, you know..."
How, then, could we possibly escape? I had seen no doors to the outside down here, nothing to suggest that escape was even possible, except maybe...
"There is a roof to this accursed building, Jolly. I found myself on it when the lift took on a mind of its own and separated us."
"Don't plan on jumpin' off a roof, today, scrag." Jolly said. "Seems we'd be tradin' one death for another."
"True." I said. "Jolly, you brought supplies, did you not? What do you have with you?"
He pulled the pack off of himself and set it down on the grate with a thud. Unclasping one of the many compartments, he began to produce multiple necessities. Berry preserves, bread, a few flasks of water, a hunting knife (possibly for slicing the bread or spreading the preserves), and a few boxes of matches. Nothing looked particularly useful for scaling the side of a building. I had hoped he had rope.
"Nothin' here for rapellin', scrag." Jolly said. "Unless ya wizard types have some knowledge of how to get down the side of a building with water and jam."
"I do believe that, even if I had my magic, neither of those items would be very useful to us right now, other than the water."
"And, what, scrag, are ya plannin' to do with that?"
"Let me show you." I said as he handed the flask over freely. I then uncapped it and drank deeply. It would do us no good to be starving or thirsty while we figured out how to kill that blasted monstrosity. The water tasted so good, so sweet. It was always strange just how wonderful the bouquet of flavor was in everyday spring water after strenuous effort and, apparently, after death.
"Save some for me, scrag." Jolly said lightheartedly. "Else I'll eat the bread and jam all on my own!"
