forgotten shadows.

“The Cult preaches balance; mandating that shadow priests must never forget the dangers of falling too deep into the dark energies they manipulate, for it is often too hard to find one’s way back to the shadow from the deep reaches of the darkness.“

- Shadow Priest Allister

Moving under the iron-clad archway, I slowly took my dreary ascent to the monastery entrance. Skull piles protrude through the persistent low fog and I struggle to catch my breath in the biting cold. I followed lit braziers up the cobbled pathway as a low, monotonous chant hung on the air from a distance. I could feel the leered gaze of people watching me through the fog; leaving me to continue though, she’d have asked for that. They knew what lay in store for me inside the warped bastion of the Light.

My mere presence unsettled some horses in a nearby stable; I could hear them writhing around in their tight bonds, desperate to be cut loose and flee. The chanting that had been present since I entered these desecrated grounds was getting progressively louder as I approached the grand monasteries magnificent entrance. It was time. I paused for a moment to respect and absorb the beauty of such ancient architectural design. The limestone walls were the foundation to the spires that curled out like malevolent hands into the midnight sky. Small torches laden the walls gently gave light to the myriad of tapestries that floated down from the parapets and steeples in a rich sanguine glow. You could see candle light flicker in the uppermost towers where scholars would be busy twisting their influence on to the archives of the world’s past.

As I continued onward I eventually arrived under the intimidating stone archway that signalled the entrance to the scarlet monastery; despite all the torches the eerie silence from the surrounding land made warmth a distant memory. I held up my now filthy, dust-ridden robe as I started my climb up the polished marble staircase. As I approached the top I seemed to enter a large, shadowed room full of roof high columns and identical thick doorways. Innocuous devouts were blind to my presence; fully transfixed in their constant prayers. I crept past them tightly hugging the walls till I arrived at the most decorative and emblazoned door. ‘This must be it’, I thought - it had to be. She adored finery in everything she possessed. I leant heavily on my gnarled, worn staff and slowly turned the key left in the lock until a sharp clicking noise allowed me to push the door slightly open.

I instantly began to choke up and my eyes were subject to searing heat; startling back a moment before regaining my focus and pushing the door fully open. I could barely see inside the room as a crimson hew swallowed the entire space. I attempted to breathe through my nostrils but the stench was unbearable: burning flesh. I knew where I was.

“Vishash”, I snarled as a slimey, worm of a man appeared from the corner of the room; “I wasn’t expecting to find you in here.” I could see the fiery hot pokers in his hand and it didn’t take my eyes long to find the partially dismembered victim on one of his torture racks. The young woman was drenched in sweat and blood as well as missing some limbs. “Ah,” he muttered, “again you let your arrogance get the better of you; she told me you’d pick this room first.” I saw his body tense up to show wiry strength and prepared myself to the inevitable assault. He attempted to lunge at me with his fiery reckoning, screaming as he did so; “I’ll rip the secrets from your flesh!” Moving my palm into his way his body stopped dead in its tracks; frozen in place and with his pupils beginning to expand till he bore only black pearls in his sockets. With complete control over his mind I expelled the interrogator backwards and forced him to string himself into one of his many racks layering the nearest dank wall. I slowly relinquished control over him and free of my will be comes to his senses. “We’re not finished yet”, I utter as the large wooden door is bolted shut.

A gentle breeze was whispering eerie tones through the cracks in a nearby doorway. I deduced that this must lead to the outside courtyard I was searching for. I hastily picked up my pace and disregarded silent movements to slam open the door. It crashed open revealing an empty narrow corridor that snaked off to the left. Wrapping my robe tightly around me as I scuttled towards the pitch black corner. I moved my head through the darkness to discover that which I had dreaded: over 1000 loyal men and women bearing arms, stationed in the courtyard leading up to the cathedral.

A grand fountain dominated the centre of the courtyard, depicting a vigilant and proud looking member of the Mograine lineage. I succumbed to the realisation my dark powers would be of no use against a number this great and she would immediately be alerted of my presence - if she didn’t already know. A thought sprung to mind and I back-peddled into the opening chamber I’d just come from. I quietly stalled one of the juttering old devouts traversing the stone floor before placing my hand upon his shoulder. His body went cold to the touch and he dropped his offerings, spilling them all over the floor with the ashes and embers giving the plain stone a chaotic beauty. The devout was now subservient to my will; I had shown his mind’s eye the riches and glory and happiness the world has to offer, then burned them down to nothing but dust. I discovered his true fear and made it run around his body like a pulse till he collapsed on the floor in terror.

Quickly undressing I traded robes with the broken follower and began scuttling back to the entrance to the crowded courtyard. I hung my head low as I walked ominously around the edge to reach the cathedrals steps. Snarling dogs could be seen patrolling the lawns, snapping at the heels of the hound master on his hourly round. I feared the mutts would smell my presence so I stayed as far away as possible to masque my scent. Several times I was forced to extend my will to soothe the minds of some of the more sceptical guards that I passed. Making a faux prayer to the Mograine fountain and ascended the large cobbled steps until I reached the looming oak door. Two of her royal guards stode motionless and unwavering as I approached the gap in the doors; unaware of my identity nor purpose. It turned out my bravado was a grand underestimation and they had in fact noticed I was not all I appeared to be - foolish on my part to think they wouldn’t notice a devout late for midnight mass. I had to end this, and end this quickly.

Unsheathing their royal blades I uttered words from the darkest tomes in the church library to instil wracking pain in their minds. They crumpled to the floor screaming and reeling back in unfathomable pain; teeth bare and their brows pouring with sweat. They hurriedly tried to remove their armor and digging their fingers deep into their skin in an attempt to carve out the agony that’s inside them. Lacerations littered their bodies before they succumbed to the only release possible; death.

I had to act quickly as the whole courtyard was alarmed and began rushing towards my position; standing on the corpses of two of her favoured servants. Creeping through the two great doors I closed them behind me and barricaded myself inside. This disruption interrupted mass and the innumerable followers turned to look at me. I was in no mood for tact now so hurried down the centre aisle with my arms raised high, projecting an image of pure nightmare and hysteria into their weak unguarded minds. Skittering away they tried to hide from me under the wooden pews like I was now a revered god.

“Whitemane!”, I yelled out. “Show yourself.”

My unparalleled fury was racing around my body as dark wisps began to consume me and the ascension into my true form began. I felt empowered and ethereal as I glided forth towards the sacrificial altar; drenched with both dry and fresh innocent blood, seeping down onto the cold stone flagons the devouts worshipped upon, swirling around their knees and fingertips as they prayed. I circled this pestilent, heretical symbol before noticing an up-turned rug beneath my feet. I kicked it aside to to reveal a dust smothered wooden trap door that looked as if it hadn’t been disturbed since shortly after the monasteries opening.

Digging my heels into the ground I had to call upon the strength of my now emaciated body to aid me in opening the hatch. Sweat dribbled down to my clenched teeth, muscles strained under the immense tense in the shackles, groans came from my ailing body. Finally the remaining clasps cracked and crashed open to reveal a dank staircase descending into darkness. An instant smell of ancient damp hit me as I began my climb…