Chapter 6 - Voices Beneath the Stone

Drip… drip… drip…

Arcea awoke to the sound of water, groaning in pain as she shifted. Her whole body ached from the fall. With a wince, she reached into her pouch and pulled out one of the healing orbs her father had given her. Pressing it to her chest, she crushed it, feeling a gentle warmth surge through her, knitting muscle and bone back together. The ache dulled, her breath steadied. She opened her eyes fully, realizing she was lying on cold, uneven stone. The ground beneath her was paved with old bricks, slick with dampness. A faint blue glow pulsed in the distance. Where am I? Did Dad fall somewhere else?

She sat up, scanning her surroundings. Moss-covered stone walls rose on either side, thick pipes running their length. Every so often, a mounted crystal — glowing softly with stored mana — lit the way, much like the one in the guardhouse where she and her father had rested earlier. _At least there’s light… I hate the dark. Better than that pitch-black cave in the Overlook Mountains… those lurker mutants almost had me that time.

“Dad!” she called out.

Her voice echoed, but no answer came. No… don’t tell me he’s not down here.

Her eyes fell on her trusty slab of metal lying nearby. She slung it over her shoulder and glanced back. The passage behind her was a collapsed wall of rubble — no way back. Guess forward’s the only way.

Quietly, she began moving forward down the long corridor, hoping to find her father. Stay calm, just keep moving. He’s tougher than anyone… he’ll be fine.

The further she walked, the louder the sound of rushing water became. Turning a corner, she found herself in a massive chamber. Hand-laid brick channels carried streams of water through the room, converging at large sludge gates. Overhead, thick roots dangled from the ceiling, dipping into the flow, while green vines crept along the ground and walls. Here and there, mana crystals glowed faintly, their hum joining the soft churn of the water. It’s like some kind of old waterworks… still alive down here.

Strangely, the place seemed intact despite the earthquake. The vines were everywhere, winding into cracks and seams, sealing leaks, even bracing damaged walls as if holding the structure together. Holding this place together… or holding it prisoner?

But then she noticed the bodies.

Corpses lay scattered across the floor — shriveled, skin clinging tight to bone, their faces locked in expressions of horror. Vines were wrapped around their limbs, torsos, and necks as if feeding. What… happened to them? Her grip tightened on her weapon.

She stepped carefully between them. Then her foot caught on a vine.

She stumbled — and the vine coiled instantly around her wrist.

A sudden wave of weakness washed through her, her energy being drained. No! Let go! Panic flared. More vines stirred, snaking toward her from every direction.

With a sharp pull, she tore her wrist free, bits of vine fiber snapping and clinging to her skin. She ran, scanning desperately for an escape. Anywhere, just away from here.

There — a narrow hole in the far wall.

She dashed for it, diving through the gap. The tight squeeze forced her to let go of her weapon, but once through, she reached back and dragged it after her just as the vines closed in.

Arcea scrambled to her feet and ran without looking back, the distant rustle of vines chasing her into the darkness ahead.

Arcea finally stopped, glancing back — the sound of the pursuing vines was gone. Good… I think I lost them. The long pathway ahead was littered with rubble, forcing her to climb over small piles of stone. Every muscle aches… but I can’t stop. Eventually she made it out and turned the corner into a medium-sized room.

Two of the farmhands she had rescued earlier lay on the ground — one was a petite young woman, the other a heavyset man. They must not have gotten far after the earthquake and were swallowed up too.

The only other path forward was blocked with rubble. Roots from trees above hung through the ceiling. The sound of water was loud here, flowing just beneath her feet — she could see it through small grates, running along channels beyond the wall. Feels like the whole place is alive… and watching.

I’d better make sure they’re alright… she thought, moving closer.

They were breathing. Arcea rolled the young woman — who looked around eighteen — onto her back. Besides bruises, she seemed fine… until Arcea spotted claw marks across her arm and chest.

Her eyes widened. Claw marks… beastman! She spun, but too late — a shadowy beastman dropped from the roots above. She swung her slab-weapon in a wide arc but barely missed as it darted past, claws raking her back. Pain flared and her limbs went numb. No… not now… I can’t move! She collapsed to the ground, still conscious but unable to move.

“Good. I was able to catch this brat. She’ll be added to the sacrifices,” the beastman growled. “Now we just need to find that man, if he survived the fall.”

The beastman grabbed them roughly and dragged Arcea and the farmhands into the corner. I can’t… do anything. Dad… where are you? Fear tightened her chest.

Footsteps echoed from the tunnel. A man Arcea had never seen before entered — tall, lean, draped in a tattered brown hooded cloak over segmented metal armor. A metal mask hid his face, violet eyes glowing faintly beneath the hood. One arm was wrapped entirely in bandages, the other armored with metal plates ending in claw-like fingertips.

The beastman sniffed the air and bared its teeth. “What luck — another human sacrifice.” Poison dripped from its claws as it strode forward.

The cloaked man paid him no mind, mumbling to himself.

“Think you can ignore me?” the beastman snarled, charging.

The man finally looked up. He raised his bandaged hand and spoke a single word: “Mjolnir.”

Violet light flared, shaping itself into a war hammer. In an instant, the man hurled it. The weapon slammed into the beastman’s chest, driving it backward into the wall. The hammer didn’t stop — it pressed forward with relentless force as cracks spiderwebbed across the stone. A sickening crunch followed as the beastman’s chest caved in. The weapon returned to the man’s hand before fading into violet light.

Arcea stared, stunned. He… killed it in one blow.

He walked toward her, still muttering. This time she caught the words: “An unusual result… this could work. I’ll have to check the branches to see the outcome of returning them to that point.”

Kneeling beside her, his voice softened. “You’ve no need to fear, little one. I’m just a traveling merchant — I explore every corner of the world, looking for unique and rare things. I’ll heal you now. Don’t be afraid.”

His bandaged arm glowed again. A snake-entwined staff formed in his hand, radiating violet light. Warmth spread through Arcea’s body, flooding her with energy. That feeling… it’s like the healing orbs Dad carries, but stronger. Feeling returned to her limbs.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

But the man was already walking away, heading toward the tunnel she had come from.

She noticed he hadn’t healed the other two and hurried after him. “Can you heal the—”

He turned down the path, and a bright violet flash lit the tunnel.

Arcea rounded the corner, finishing, “—other two…?”

But the tunnel was empty. The man had vanished into thin air. Who… was he?

Arcea finally got ahold of herself and turned to take in the situation. They were trapped — one direction led back toward the long tunnel of life-sucking vines, and the other was blocked by a wall of rubble. No good options… but standing around isn’t going to help.

“I guess I’ll have to try and break through this path,” she muttered to herself.

She hefted her metal slab weapon and slammed it against the largest stone over and over, each strike cracking the surface. Come on… break already. She thrust the weapon forward again and again, gouging out a crater in the rock. But then the ground trembled — the pile of rubble shifted violently, and the floor gave way beneath it. Stone shattered, revealing a yawning chasm where the blockage had been. Another massive slab fell, crushing down on her weapon and ripping it from her grasp. The rubble kept falling, vanishing into the darkness. The gap was bottomless, stretching into what could only be the Darklands.

Arcea clenched her fists, frustrated at losing both her weapon and the path forward. Great… no weapon and no way through. She turned away, deciding to wait until the farmhands recovered. Then she remembered something. “Oh, right — Dad gave me those antidotes.” She felt a little foolish for forgetting. If I’d remembered sooner, maybe they’d already be awake.

She knelt beside the two unconscious figures, popped open the vials, and poured the contents into their mouths.

A few moments later, they began to stir. The young woman was first to rise, dressed not in farmer’s clothes but in a simple town dress and hooded cape.

“Thank you for saving us,” she said breathlessly. “I thought we were going to become one of their sacrifices. By the way, my name’s Lana.”

“No problem,” Arcea replied, glancing at the heavyset man still struggling to stand. “What about him?”

“Oh, that’s Quinn,” Lana explained. “He’s one of the farmhands.”

Arcea tilted her head. “Aren’t you a farmhand too?”

Lana giggled. “Oh, no — I just bring food to the workers during their breaks.”

Quinn finally managed to get to his feet and gave a stiff bow. “Thank you for saving me. Now, help us get out of here before more beastmen show up.”

He began pacing the room, stopping at the long tunnel.

“We can’t go that way,” Arcea warned. “Unless you want your life force sucked dry by vines.”

Quinn quickly stepped back from the tunnel, continuing his nervous pacing — until a wet, gurgling laugh drew their attention. The beastman Arcea had fought earlier was still alive, blood spilling from his mouth.

“None of you are going anywhere,” he rasped. “Once the wagon gets back and sees we’re not waiting, they’ll send reinforcements.”

Arcea strode over to him, glaring down at the barely-breathing creature. Without hesitation, she drove her foot into his skull. Bone burst beneath her heel, and she felt the rush of his soul flowing into her soul gem. One less problem to worry about.

Quinn flinched, pale. “H-how are we going to get out of here?”

Before anyone could answer, part of the wall behind the beastman crumbled from the force of her earlier blow. The sound of rushing water filled the chamber.

Arcea stepped over the corpse and peered through the new opening. Beyond lay a vast cavern with a broken stone road leading to an overflowing reservoir. Dozens of water channels branched from it into the darkness, and glowing mana stones still lit the area. Near a massive sludge gate at the edge of the reservoir, she spotted a metal mechanism.

If I can open that and lower the water level, I can reach the paths that are flooded now.

“Stay here,” she told Lana and Quinn. “I think I’ve found us a way out.”

Lana nodded. “Alright.”

Quinn stepped in front of her. “No — you have to stay with us. If you leave, who will protect us if more beastmen come?”

This man’s a coward, Arcea thought.

“No,” she said flatly.

Quinn tried to block her again. “You can’t go—”

Lana cut him off sharply. “Arcea’s right. If we don’t find a way out, we’ll be stuck here. Quit acting like a coward — she’s younger than both of us, and she’s still moving forward.”

Quinn looked between them, then sighed. “Fine… but hurry back, or my heart won’t be able to take it.”

Arcea stepped through the hole in the wall, into the giant flooded cavern. This has to be the way out… and I’m not coming back empty-handed.

Arcea entered the cavern and followed the broken stone road curving around the reservoir. But soon, the path began to change — instead of a proper road, it looked jagged, like a row of massive stone teeth. She had to start leaping from one section to another, each gap revealing the fast-moving water below.

She looked down and swallowed hard. The channels beneath churned violently, ready to drag anything under and suck it away into the flooded tunnels. If I fall, I’m done for.

Step by step, leap by leap, she crossed cautiously. Then, one of the slabs shifted under her foot — stone crumbled and dropped into the water. She lunged, barely catching the edge of the next platform. Pulling herself up, she watched with dismay as the collapsing piece struck others, taking more of the road with it. No going back now.

After several tense jumps, she made it to the other side. The path back was gone. With a resigned sigh, she turned toward the large metal device beside the sludge gate.

It was covered in strange writing she couldn’t read, but there were two buttons under a sealed case. She gripped the cover, ripped it free, and tossed it aside. The blue button glowed faintly — she pressed it, but nothing happened. Then she pressed the green button, and her eyes lit up as the gate began to creak and rise, chains groaning as water rushed through. But the smile vanished when the machine’s blue glow died and the gate slammed shut with a splash.

“Fuck!” she shouted — the first time she had ever cursed. In a burst of frustration, she hefted a loose stone slab and hurled it into the reservoir, listening to the distant splash echo through the cavern.

Arcea slumped to the ground, arms wrapped around her knees, head lowered. I can’t… I’m trapped here. Dad… I wish you were here. Her eyes stung as tears slid down her cheeks.

After a few moments, she sniffled and wiped her face. Something caught her attention — a faint pulsing glow at the base of the machine. She crawled closer, seeing it formed a rectangle. Pulling open the small panel revealed an extremely dim, weakly glowing tube.

Her heart lifted. “My treasure,” she whispered. She pulled the dim tube free, then dug into her pouch and retrieved the bright mana fuse she’d found earlier in the ancient city. Slotting it into place, she grinned as the machine roared back to life, fully powered.

Slamming the button again, she watched the sludge gate open at full speed, the chains rattling as water surged out in a torrent. The reservoir began to drain rapidly.

She slipped the dim, spent tube into her pouch as a keepsake of the moment. Sitting down at the edge of the platform, she pulled out a strip of dried jerky and chewed contentedly, watching the water level sink lower and lower.

Eventually the water reservoir drained low enough for Arcea to safely cross the rocky bed. As she made her way toward the other side, a faint glimmer drew her attention—light spilling from the back of one of the passages. Curiosity stirred within her, and she ventured into the once-flooded channel, its stone floors slick and walls glistening. The narrow path led her to a broken section where sunlight poured through. Looking up, she saw a bright opening above, roots hanging down like a natural ladder.

Could this be a way out? Or something more? The thought sent a shiver of excitement down her spine. She gripped the thick, living ropes and began to climb, each pull straining her arms yet pushing her toward the unknown.

When she emerged, her breath caught in her throat. This… this can’t be real. Before her stood a vision from the fairy tales her parents used to tell—an immense tree rising from a carpet of lush green grass, its vines glowing faintly with an iridescent shimmer. At its base lay a colossal sword, its dark blade etched with glowing runes that shifted colors like living light. A sapphire gem gleamed at the hilt, drinking in the radiance from above.

Her mind spun. Why is it here? Who left it? Is it meant for me? The air was heavy with the perfume of countless flowers in every imaginable color, surrounding the ancient tree. Overhead, the core’s light poured down through a massive chasm, bathing the grove in an unearthly glow. It’s beautiful… it feels alive… like it’s been waiting all this time.

Arcea’s pulse quickened, a grin breaking across her face as she stepped forward, each pace bringing her closer to the weapon that seemed to call her by name.

Arcea approached the sword slowly, eyes tracing over its massive form. The blade gleamed with an iridescent sheen, runes shifting faintly like living light across its surface, and a deep blue gem rested in the hilt. The ground around it seemed untouched by time, flowers blooming in impossible colors beneath the soft light pouring down from the chasm above. Even without touching it, she could feel a quiet thrum in the air, as though the weapon itself was breathing.

The moment her fingers curled around the hilt, a voice echoed in her mind.

“Hey, little girl.”

She gasped and instinctively let go, stepping back. Heart pounding, she whipped her head around, scanning the radiant clearing, the massive tree, and the glowing flowers for any sign of the speaker. Her eyes darted to the roots, the shadows, even the air above, but there was nothing. The voice didn’t fade — it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“I’ve been trapped in this place for… who knows how long.”

Her empty hands flexed reflexively — she had lost her old weapon earlier, and the absence made her feel exposed. She glanced around the clearing warily. Are you… the sword? she asked cautiously.

“Yes,” it replied, tone oddly casual. “And no, I’m not truly the sword. A bad man tricked me and sealed me inside it.”

If that’s true, then how can you still talk to me if I’m not touching it?

“I moved my soul into your body when you touched the hilt. The sword now holds only a fragment of the power that was used to seal me. In your body, I can eventually learn to control that power and help you — but I have one request.”

What request?

“Help me find a body.”

She frowned, unease prickling her skin. You expect me to trust you when I don’t even know who — or what — you are?

“I understand your caution,” the voice said smoothly. “But if you let me stay, I can grow stronger and help you.”

And if I say no?

“Then I’ll return to the sword… but I’ll be powerless to assist you.”

She narrowed her eyes. Fine. But you follow my rules. You return to the sword when I say, and if you try anything, I’ll throw you into the Dark Lands.

“That’s fair. Now, take the sword.”

Arcea stepped forward warily and wrapped her hands around the hilt again. With a hard pull, the blade tore free from the ground, heavier than anything she had ever lifted. Iridescent runes flared faintly along its length, and she felt the pulse of its strange power — unsettling, yet somehow hers to command.

She cast one last look at the radiant clearing, imagining her parents here, before disappearing back down through the tangle of roots into the drained water reservoir below.

Arcea returned to the reservoir, the water still lapping at her ankles. As she approached the far side, she spotted Lana and Quinn above, waving frantically. She couldn’t hear them, but the urgency in their movements made her glance back—just in time to see a massive shape rise from the deeper water. A serpentine neck as long as a bus, two clawed forearms, and a hulking, finned body emerged, water cascading off its scaled hide.
Her pulse spiked. I can’t fight something that big in here… She tried to sprint, but her sandals sank into the mud, every step a battle to free her feet. If I stay here, I’m done for. Struggling toward rocky footing, she called to the sword in her mind. “Can you do anything?!”
“Give me a moment,” the voice replied. “Swing for now—it may have been forged as decoration, but it’s sharp enough to carve through almost anything.”
The beast lunged, maw gaping wide, its long, serpentine neck whipping toward her in rapid, snake-like feints that made its true strike hard to read. Arcea twisted and ducked, barely slipping past one snapping bite before another head-feint came from the opposite side, forcing her to throw herself aside in desperation. She dove fully clear at the last moment, heart hammering. She timed her next move, charging forward to slash deep into its chest. Blood fountained from the gash, but the creature’s sheer size made the wound little more than an irritation. That should have dropped it… why isn’t it slowing down? It roared in fury, one claw lashing out. Arcea’s blade flashed, severing a thick, taloned finger. The other claw came in too fast—she pivoted, turning the sword to use the flat as a shield. The blow slammed into it with bone-jarring force, flinging her backward into the shallow water. She rolled, coughing as cold soaked her clothes. That thing hits like a falling boulder…
Pushing to her feet, she froze—the monster’s throat was glowing. With no cover, she jammed the sword into the ground and pressed herself behind the wide flat of the blade. Fire erupted, a scorching torrent that turned the air to an oven. Her arms and legs prickled with burns, but the sword stayed cold. Around her, the water vanished in an instant, leaving cracked, dry mud and scattered pockets of violently boiling puddles. Steam hissed up around her, the heat shimmering in the scorched basin.
“Two basic moves,” the voice said. “Crude, but they’ll work.”
As the flames ebbed, Arcea stepped out from behind the sword, scanning the steaming ground. The monster’s maw was glowing again. Not this time. She hurled the sword into its gullet, the blade sinking deep. At her mental call, power detonated—the sword tearing out in a vertical explosion of steel and light, shredding bone, teeth, and meat. Blood sprayed as the weapon spun back into her grip.
The monster stumbled, blood pouring from its mouth and nose as it hacked up chunks of torn meat, splintered bone, and shattered teeth onto the scorched ground. Still, it lowered its head and charged in a final, reckless rush. “Let’s try the other,” she said, lifting the sword in both hands. Light surged from the blade—ten feet, twenty, thirty, fifty—until a massive spectral edge hummed before her. She leapt, bringing it down in a thunderous cleave. The blow split the beast from crown to belly; entrails, gore, and steaming viscera poured out as the halves crashed into the shallows. The strike shattered the earth, opening a fissure that drained water in a roaring current.
As the beast’s carcass slid apart, Arcea felt a violent surge through her soul gem—a fragment of the creature’s essence forcing its way in. The raw power flooding her was far greater than anything she had absorbed before, almost overwhelming in its intensity.
Breathing hard, Arcea trudged across the cracked mud toward the ledge, each step crunching on the scorched earth. Her arms still trembled from the fight, and her skin stung where the fire had grazed her. She pulled a green healing orb from her pouch, rolling it in her palm. Should I use it now? The cool glass felt reassuring, but she shook her head. No… I’ll save it. If something worse is waiting ahead. She tucked it away and exhaled.
Pulling herself up onto the ledge, she was met by Lana’s wide-eyed stare. “That was… incredible,” Lana breathed, her voice caught between awe and disbelief. Quinn, on the other hand, hovered close but said nothing, his eyes darting between Arcea and the sword in her hand.
“Did you find us a way out?” Lana asked hopefully.
“Sort of,” Arcea replied, still catching her breath. She pointed toward the now-drained reservoir. “We’ll have to explore the waterways. Some of them might lead back to the surface.”
As they set off together, Arcea glanced sideways at Lana. “Why aren’t you looking at me the way the others in Bernswick did?” she asked.
Lana’s brows drew together. “You mean… like they hate you?”
Arcea nodded.
Lana sighed. “It’s mostly the older folks. Middle-aged and elderly. They can’t let go of the past, whatever stories they’ve been told. Us younger ones… we don’t really care. One bad incident doesn’t mean every demi-human is a monster. Bernswick can try to scare us all he wants, but nothing else has ever happened in the village except people going missing now and then.”

Arcea took that in, quietly wondering how many others in the world thought like Lana. Her gaze flicked to Quinn. He avoided her eyes.
They eventually reached a rusted maintenance ladder bolted to the wall. Quinn stepped forward. “Here—let me hold the sword for you while you climb.”
Arcea hesitated but handed it over. The moment she let go, it slammed into the ground with a heavy thud. Quinn’s arms dropped like he’d just tried to hold up a collapsing roof beam. He strained to lift it again but couldn’t get the blade an inch off the floor. “How the … how are you even carrying this thing?”
Arcea smirked faintly. “Guess it just likes me better.” She climbed quickly, her hands finding steady grips on the cold rungs. At the top, she found a sealed hatch wedged against a block of stone. She gritted her teeth, twisted the handle, and felt the old metal groan under her strength before finally giving way. Cool, stale air drifted down as the hatch swung open.
Looking down the ladder, she called, “It’s clear—come up.”
Lana climbed next, followed by Quinn, who kept glancing at the sword on the ground like it might bite him.
Arcea extended her hand, remembering the way the sword had flown back to her before. Let’s see if I can do it without your help this time. At first, nothing happened. Then the weapon rattled, scraping along the stone floor before rocketing up the ladder tunnel, banging into the walls as it came. The hilt smacked into her palm, and she gripped it firmly, dragging the rest of the blade up.

Arcea pointed to the sword. “Mr. Sword.”
Lana blinked, then gave her a small smile, deciding not to push the issue.
They moved on, following the corridor until they stepped into a vast chamber. A towering door, etched with glowing runes, dominated the far wall. Beside it stood a strange, dormant machine covered in buttons labeled in an unfamiliar language.
Arcea approached the door first, giving it a testing push with her sword. A magical force lashed out, flinging the blade back. “Figures…” she muttered. Peering through a narrow slit in the door, she spotted what looked like a large chamber beyond—one corner bathed in corelight. That might be a way out.
But with no clear method to open it, they gathered around the machine. The buttons’ inscriptions were meaningless to them, each glowing faintly.
“We’re not figuring this out in a hurry,” Arcea said at last.
They sank down to rest, Lana and Quinn looking pale and worn from hunger. Arcea split her last bit of dried food into three portions and cracked open a small blue water orb, letting its fresh, cool water fill a dented tin pot she’d found in the corner. They drank and ate in silence, the air still heavy with the faint scent of scorched mud and steam from the battle she’d just survived.