Chapter 108: Sanctum XXXIII
But on top of the fact that the ingredients were devilishly rare, the potions half-life was incredibly short, lasting less than two days before it went over. It was also practically pointless to use outside the sanctumif the expanded pathways werent flooded by the increased ambient mana in the sanctum strata, the change was temporary, and the mana paths would return to normal.
Casikas had referred to this as the golden grail of sanctum potions. The sort of thing that even the most talented alchemist would only have one opportunity for. Given our current situation, that was almost poetic.
I was a bit nervous during the process. The brewing required a sustained high-heat, but I only messed up the first batch, leaving us with enough for five. It didnt have an additive effect, so after Vogrin confirmed everything was in order, I handed out the rest and pocketed the last one.
We all drank our potions in grim silence. The low-humming of the gate served as a constant reminder of what we were about to do.
Jorra finally hacked a violent cough. Lord below, thats disgusting.
Like taffy thats gone over. Bell smacked her lips.
Still, quite a bit more pleasant than the iron-lung potion you gave me, Maya said.
I shifted towards her. You used that?
Oh yes. She winked. My initial year in the sanctum was harried. I will tell you the story after we make it through.
There was a feeling not unlike all my muscles were expanding at once. A chorus of groans followed, telling me the others were experiencing something similar. The feeling of stretching moved away from my muscles, to my neck, to my legs.
It is officially worse now, Maya moaned.
A few minutes of discomfort later, the feeling passed, and we rose shakily to our feet.
I squeezed my fist tightly, looking at the gate, then released my fingers with a slow breath. Okay. Order of operations. Jorra, use your demon to check for any hazards. The tiny insect on his shoulder nodded in unison with him, which was slightly eerie. Maya, hang back.
I can take a more active role, Maya protested.
I shook my head. I know you can. But if you go down, were all at risk.
Finally, I looked at Bell. There was a mix of emotions on her face. Excitement. Trepidation. Trust.
Something twisted in my gut. I ignored it.
Bell. Youre with me up front. Were going to push this hard. As long as Jorras demon can clear the area, we go as fast as we can, and only clear what we have to.
Im ready. Bell grinned.
I wanted to say more. But any sentiment I had was repetitive at this point. They knew the plan. And they would follow me, no matter the outcome. So instead of waxing poetic, or repeating myself, I drew my sword and set it aflame.
Ready?
They drew their weapons.
Lets get this done.
I turned and ran headfirst into the portal.
/////
Entering the portal to the enclave was a simple experience, only off-putting the first few times. It was like stepping through a membrane that offered slight resistance, then snapped, and you instantly found yourself in another place. I think, on a subconscious level, I expected something similar.
It was entirely different. Instead of pushing against you, the violet portal pulled you in, a gelatinous vacuum. It pulled at my eyes until I was forced to close them. Panic tugged at me for a moment, as it was not unlike the sensation I felt when I died and was pulled into the void. But there was no feeling of disembodiment, just a constant, unyielding pull.
I was assailed by images. Infernals at war, using primitive weapons against demons. They appeared to be losing, constantly pushed back by a massive collective of nightmarish throngs. I immediately recognized Asmodials in the mix of opposition, as well as massive insects, dogs, and beings that looked like angels that I took to from the Decarabia legion.
Does that happen? I asked, lowering my tone to match his.
Only if something greater is keeping them here. Vogrin answered.
The tiny ticking sensation grew louder. It wasnt so much what Vogrin had said, more how he had said it. The demon carried a constant air of irritability and hated explaining things, no matter the question.
I spoke carefully. Vogrin, do you remember what you said? When Ozra gave you a choice in the Twilight Chambers?
Vogrin was silent, continuing to lead me on the circuitous path. If hed stayed that way, I likely would have yanked my arm away and drawn my sword. But then, he answered.
That Id rather return to hades. Judging from our current circumstances, that clearly would have been the better option. His voice was snide and irritable. The sort of tone I expected from him.
The alarm in my head lessened. That last sentiment had been quintessentially Vogrin. Perhaps it was just paranoia. There were times he had been more serious, less pathetically glib.
Hello? I heard a voice call.
Vogrin stilled. Dont move, He growled quietly. One of the specters has awakened.
My entire body tensed as we paused in the darkness.
The voice was loud, with a slightly pompous way of speaking. Heard you calling, friend. Not sure if you know what youve gotten yourself into, but youve stumbled into a trial. You cant believe anything you hear in there.
You cannot trust spirits, Vogrin whispered, his hiss cutting off the new voices words.
Its probably telling you right now that you cant trust me, the voice said. Vogrin stiffened. But if you can hear me, run towards my voice.
My mind raced for a moment. There was no give away, no tell, the only thing putting me off Vogrins slight hesitation. Like Id fall for that. I scoffed.
A wise choice. Vogrin said.
Without a seconds hesitation, I called the flame and plunged it into the back of his head. For a moment, everything was so bright it was almost blinding, a single image imprinted on my retinas.
A fleshy, melting facsimile of my demon was lurching forward, reaching up toward the fire that burned at his skull. Long medallions of bloody skin hung from the creatures chin and neck. He was clad in a butchers apron, covered in crimson and blood, a giant cleaver in his left hand. Before us was a coffin filled with cruel scarlet painted spikes.
There was no question what it was intended for.
The darkness rushed in and snapped his head forward, extinguishing the demon-fire before it could do any meaningful damage. I turned and sprinted toward the voice. The monster howled in rage as I stumbled through a field of bodies, tripping and tumbling at every turn, hollow bones cracking beneath me and flesh giving way.
Run friend, run! The voice called out to me. I reoriented towards it. Pale white specters rose, barely visible in the blackness, howling, hands and nails clawing at their faces, swiping at me, seething with rage.
The monster huffed behind me, breathing laborious wet breaths. I propelled myself forward with the inscriptions, finding to my relief the darkness did not seem to care about internal magic, and sprinted. But the monster picked up speed.
I felt its breath on my neck.
All I could think about was the moment I would go back to. Forever fighting that battle against the corrupted mercenaries, trying over and over until my mind left me. Watching Maya die, over and over again.
I bent down deep and dove forward, using a flat platform of air magic to prolong my jump.
The light blinded me as I rolled into the room. There was a loud thunking noise as the door slammed shut behind me.
I blinked my eyes furiously, trying to adjust to the light, scrambling up to my feet and brandishing my sword.
Heart racing in my throat, blurry objects slowing coming back into focus, I honed in on the last person I expected to see. The hells are you doing here?
A younger, more spindly version of the infernal I came to know as Ralakos looked me up and down. A better question, human. What the hells are you doing here?