Gathering

As days have gone by and more layers were traversed, the atmosphere only got darker and darker. Many of the stairs that hugged the crumbled edges of each layer had become nonexistent, forcing us to find another way up in the darkest ruins. The rays of light that once nurtured our path were now nothing but slits of dim yellow in the distance. The shadows Fesha and I have had to creep through just to find a way up has taken a toll on my mind, and having to feel around in the dark just to take a couple steps forward went from a menial task to something grueling and tedious. The dark had not gotten any cozier since first entering it. The echos of sounds whose sources could not be seen left scars of anxiety on Fesha and I's psyches. The only thing that had been upholding my sanity was the little spark of flame that Fesha had been using to guide our way. Still, the flame from her little trinket was far too dim; the ruggedness of the terrain at my feet still posed as a hazard. 

Fesha and I struggle through the piles of rubble as we wandered over mountains of small rocks to large boulders. Fesha stood at the top of one of these piles, her dimly lit face staring off in the distance. I climbed up to her ghostly pale face against the pitch black to see what had caught her attention. Like a sight you would see only after you died, there was a small dancing light in the distance, completely disembodied from the far off line of yellow haze. I looked at Fesha's dimly lit face and she nodded. We made our way down the mountain of wreckage and toward the shimmer of light. As we slowly approached the only thing in our sight, an eerily similar feeling washed over me. I glanced around in the eternal black, watching it, observing it. Like waves, the darkness had a subtle movement in its shadows. Yet again, I knew something was there, lurking, silently waiting in the dark. I looked over at Fesha and she knew exactly what was up. We continued onward toward the light until we saw the shape of a flame, or rather multiple flames, leading up a staircase. We made our way up the stairs which were surprisingly free of any loose rubble. 

At the top of the stairs, we found ourselves at the start of a long and grand hallway. There were black stands of twisted metal that held up blazing torches. The walls on both sides were lined with broken down doors and windows. Looking through the broken glass, I could see lines of broken wooden shelves and fallen stands and tables. Fesha put out her tiny flame and we took a couple steps forward and proceeded down the hall. Our steps bounced off every surface and back into my ears, seemingly more amplified. Instinctively, I looked back the way we came, the darkness behind taunting me. I thought I had heard footsteps from behind, but perhaps it was just my own echoing back at me. I had a constant uneasiness traveling down this hall. I knew something was very off, then in an instant I had realized that it was staring me right in the face: the torches. For there to be this many, there must have been a group of people nearby.

As we walked deeper into the hall, we found a large archway that opened up into a large balcony on our right. The sound of what a could only describe as dissonant singing could be heard from below. As Fesha and I approached the balcony, the hint of something sweet sent tingles into my nose. We stayed low, hoping that whatever was beneath would not see us. We hid against the thick, ornate pillars of the balcony's railing, cracked from wear. Between the short columns we watched the parade from above. Lines of people filled the halls below, all of them holding a bowl of something red. They wore long black robes with hoods and a silver embroidered design on its front. They were marching toward something far to our left while singing in an alien harmony. We watched as they conducted themselves in an orderly fashion, remaining in perfectly parallel lines as they marched on. Fesha and I began to follow them, staying knelt against the thick columns of the railing. As we followed their march, their destination came into clarity and a new nightmare had been realized.

The sweet scent of white flowers mixing with the rot of carcasses became far too apparent. The sounds of a monstrous and hollow groaning echoed in the large open district. I gaze upon the amalgamation that these people had been steadily marching toward. Piles and piles of blackened and decayed corpses littered the ground below. Vinnuluses bloomed within the crevasses of the carcasses. Between the piles of bodies, large black tendrils snaked their way through. As I followed the path of each tendril, I was met with a pitiful sight. A woman was sat atop the tallest pile of corpses, her clothes in shreds and her hair dirtied with blood. She sat slumped over like a rag doll, her one arm placed palm up as if it were numbed. Where her other arm should have been, a black mass had grown, twisting and convulsing, as if it were a separate entity from her. The mass grew out from her shoulder, splitting off into the tendrils I had seen amongst the thousands of decayed bodies.

My heart sank as I lost balance from my squat and landed on my behind. Fesha had covered her eyes and looked away. I had not seen her like this before, agonizing silently over the brutal sight. In our processing of the horrid sight, something had interrupted us. A tug on the back of my collar pulled me back with immense force. I landed on my back, the impacted freezing me in place for a split second. As I tried to get up, I was met with an axe head directly pointed at my face. I followed the handle to the tall man holding it. His long brown coat was heavily stained with something dark, and his fearsome stature struck dread into my heart. Though I had prepared myself for a fight, something instantly took me aback. I felt like I had met this man somewhere before. Suddenly, it had clicked.

"Dente?" I muttered softly.