In the sickening, green light of this damn labyrinth, I stood before one of the doors the groups of skeletons had guarded, studying the engravings. A lot of symbols seemed to be arcane or esoteric in nature, at least to my untrained eyes, but a few pictograms in the middle told a little story about the history of bipedal creatures or people who seemed to have a culturally engrained love for digging and mining, seeing as there were a lot of them shown doing exactly that.

There were scenes of work, a pictogram depicting a king or queen on a throne, battle scenes against creatures of all sizes and varieties mainly painted a deep black who seemed to rise up from deep pits and darkness.

The whole thing was held together by a runic script that surrounded the pictures. I had never seen anything resembling these letters before. And more importantly: I had met dwarves and seen their runic alphabet. And those looked different, both people and letters.

But while the door did not tell me much about what was going on in this labyrinth, it all but confirmed that these structures had been built by a real race of deep-dwelling creatures. And that meant that a civilization had dug down to the Abyss. They would have created a way to the surface as well, surely? Suddenly, I had a goal and a way to get there.

The doors swung open with almost no sound, the lock was clearly burnt away with acid, but there had been no other signs of fighting around the rooms. Other than my own. The skeletons did not seem to have fought their way inside.

The door opened into a huge hall filled with diffuse light coming from stones in the ceiling hundreds of feet above me. The light had to force its way through clouds of swirling dust to reach the ground.

An eery stillness welcomed me, but the hall, and the shadows beyond, were very much vibrant with the faintest sounds. Every now and again an undiscernible clang or whisper would grow louder and louder the longer it traveled across the smooth stone of the long-abandoned halls.

The unease I felt was leagues above what I felt in the darkness just a few feet behind me. There, I was trapped in a confusing and restricting space of hallways. But it did not matter that I had no orientation back there because it did not really matter where I was going.

Furthermore, I was protected from the sides and above at all times. But here? I felt vulnerable and small, saw countless shadows moving in the dust particles swirling all around me, my mind already painting pictures of danger and horror.

There was also a difference between more or less natural caves and tunnels and an ominous structure of unknown origins which was obviously abandoned and filled with the undead and possibly dead. Something had happened here. Something scary. Because they would not abandon a place that grand for nothing.

I felt my Essence trickle through me as I almost instinctively covered myself in the shadows of [Walk the Night Unseen], while I set my first careful steps into the hall. It was impressive beyond belief. Smooth pillars in exact symmetry reaching a ceiling I could only make out because of the light embedded there.

The ground was laid out of tiles of stone, the texture of the stone itself used to form intricate patterns and an indication of pathways. There was a lot of rubble as well, here and there a pillar worn down by time. A cracked stone or a fallen piece of the ceiling.

I saw them coming from miles away. Whatever merits they may have had in life, stealth was not one of the strong suits of the esteemed 7th Cohort of the Ravenguard. They rushed through mist and dust, eyes blazing in intense blue fire, silent but for the sound of bone on metal and stone.

And yet, as terrifying as that was, the adrenaline and chaos purged the fear and the unease from my mind. I found myself smiling against my better judgment. They were scattered through the whole expanse of the entrance hall, and when the first reached me, flames of blazing eye sockets cascaded through the murky lights, dozens more activated one after the other. As if the first one had the meanings to call more of them to the fight.

I caught a hit with my armored gauntlet. I staggered a bit. Then the head of my hammer reached his skull and splinters of bone rained through the silence. I kicked the remains back and ducked steel coming from the left. I had to keep moving, had to keep them separated. Killing fast-moving on even faster.

So I danced my dance in the darkness of the halls of the dead, my arms burning in glorious exercise. I ducked and swung the hammer, grabbed and shoved, pivoted, and evaded. I had no idea how many of them I had laid to rest for real - Lily would of course not distract me with messages mid-fight - because every room I created was soon filled again, while I danced backwards, always backwards.

I caught a moment where 3 skeletons were closing in on me, and I had kicked one, who should by now be somewhere behind me. When I saw one of the three jumping forward, I pivoted under the slashing sword and rushed a few steps back, then jumped as far as I could, rolling over my shoulder at the end.

I heard the impact of metal and bone behind me, where the skeletons had attempted to catch me with their unnatural jumping attacks. Now I had time, if only a breath or two.

I sprinted to the side, away from the mass of skeletons. I caught the glimpse of a small set of stairs, leading to a doorway. I ran towards it, but the skeletons were faster.

They rushed to intercept me, and while I could outrun a few of them, one planted his feet directly in my way. Chaos erupted as one shot out from the left, barrel-rolling through the air with speed. I hurdled the mass of bones just as it would have caught my legs. I found myself sailing above it, straddling the betrayer with my thighs around his neck. What followed was instinct, glorious instinct.

The momentum carried me forward - him backwards. I dropped over his back, head first, snapping his vertebrae - while I rolled smoothly over the ground, coming to my feet already sprinting. My [Improved Agility] was hard at work. I jumped the stairs four steps at a time and reached the protection of the doorway. They could only come to me one after the other now. My heart was pumping frantically, but I grinned in a wild show of triumph. I turned around - and they were stupid enough to come.

I knew how to fight them in confined spaces, how to position them between me and the following, so they could not use their jump to help. With every swing of my hammer, I send bones flying in splinters. Soon blood flew as well as these splinters cut me in the face and my unprotected arm. I killed them quickly and, more importantly, efficiently. But time moved with inevitability and it was not on my side, for my blood was still warm, and injuries, as small as they might have been, began to stack up to something bad.

I had them, I had them where I wanted them. They did everything wrong and still...it was my blood on the ground. They did not have such problems. Because their existence didn‘t mean anything. I could kill a hundred and it would not matter if I could not walk away afterwards. Every now and again, I toggled [Stonehide] for a few minutes, and honestly, that was the only reason the stray swords, teeth, and splinters had not cut me to pieces already. But I had not much Mana and I had to be economical with it.

I alternated between tactics: I would be on the defensive trying to survive as long as possible until I had enough Mana for another round of [Stonehide]. When the Skill had manifested its layer of craggy stone, for me as flexible as say a thick leather vest, I went on the offensive, taking risks and going all out, while just shrugging off the hits I would receive for my recklessness. But even with protection like this, I was being worn out. [Stonehide] did not make me invincible. Only very hard to actually injure. But I did collect scratches and much worse: bruises.

Soon my vision began to swim. I say soon...I had lost myself completely in the rhythm of ducking, grabbing, striking, and kicking them. I had begun moving backwards, ever so slowly down the hallway, to not slip on the blood or the bones. Even breathing hurt.

Something in me clicked into place.

A pressure I had long felt began making sense all of a sudden. Noise swelled up in my ears, indiscernible at first but growing louder and louder. Rising up into a flutter of wings, the cawing of crows, crescendoing to a cacophony of birds in anger and anguish, hundreds of them. But there was a rhythm to it as well.

A beat, mesmerizing and easy to follow, took over. It guided me even while consuming me, taking me over so as not to let my senses be taken over by anything other than the rhythm. Not tiredness, not fear, just a rhythm of angry souls manifested as crows in their lust for vengeance.

My mind got swept up in the whirlwind of noise while my instincts and reflexes took care of my tortured body. Then something snapped inside me again and all my so carefully saved up Mana rushed out in a wave of power and the [Murder of Crows], vengeance made of talons, shadow and rage erupted into reality.

Now, I was barely conscious, but I saw the shadows descent onto the skeletons, and while my logical brain assumed that they could not really harm bones, wherever the raging birds struck, reality itself tore like dried paper. Pieces just ... disappeared under the ghostly assault. Where talons and beaks hit bone, nothing was left behind. The damage was small individually, but there were a lot of them. En masse they were a whirlwind of talons and beaks flying around less and less skeletons.

As fast as it came, it went away, a burning hole in my soul where my Mana used to be. But the sudden silence was deafening, only my labored breath somewhat disturbing it. I was done, there was still blood trickling down my finger, which I all but had to pry from the handle of my war hammer.

Once my adrenaline began to fade, all the little bruises and cuts began to rear their ugly head. I did not have a serious injury, but the sum of them left me swaying on my feet. I was exhausted beyond belief. There is no exhaustion like the feeling you get after a battle. Every ounce of strength left me at once. I just sank down, my back to the door behind me, allowing my mind to shut down already. Catching a break.

I sat there until my ass hurt, my pursuit of a little bit of comfort and peace in my muscles and wounds proved to be futile. Getting up again was impossible, and yet I stood up. I knew that I had to move, to warm the aching muscles, or to pay the price again the next day. I rolled my shoulders and stretched my limbs, but the pain never seemed to be manageable.

I felt a kind of snap of clarity as my Mana regenerated fully, and took the chance to press my ear against the heavy door I had leaned against, as well as fought with my back against. And because I did not fancy the idea of climbing over the mountain of bones and refuse in the hallway, I pulled the door open and slipped through.

The door was heavy, even reinforced with iron, but it moved without a sound. The room, and a few others behind it as far as I could tell at first glance, was a guardroom or a small barracks of sorts. That made sense for the room nearest to the exit to a labyrinth and subsequently the caves of the Abyss. There was structure to this place.

The decorations on the door were not only pretty. Someone had built this place to live in and to defend it. It was not the afterthought of an experiment of a mad god or whatever. There could be something- what was I talking about- there definitely was something malicious out there. But whatever that was had not built this place. This was not a mausoleum for the dead. It was an abandoned place, made by living, breathing beings. And that meant it made sense.

The barracks itself was empty and had no connection to other places beyond the 4 rooms it consisted of. Completely empty. No bodies, weapons, tools, furniture that was not carved from the stone of the walls. Nothing but dust and trash, a bit of rubble and spiderwebs. Normal-sized spiderwebs. I left it behind and returned to the scene of my desperate battle.

When I stepped back into the great entry hall, the oppressive silence settled heavy on my shoulders again. I was sure now: these halls played with my emotions. Neither before nor after had I let that influence my decisions, but these halls were cursed, or someone tried very hard to make it look that way.

It did not matter that I now suspected to know why I felt something. The feeling inside of me was really still. And I felt my unease rising. I felt small and vulnerable. I felt manipulated. And the feeling of unease rose and rose as a constant noise of metal scraping over stone slowly but surely came closer.

I recognized the first signs of a panic attack, felt my world turn and twist, and stopped it. Saying it out loud. "Stop“. Mumbling. "Iron mind behind an iron mask“. Never accepting the spiral of dread, focussing on the present instead. I slipped behind my iron mask, put my emotions aside for later, facing it...him.

The Betrayer himself, Lord Commander of the Avalanche, The Regicide, The Kingkiller, godsdammned son of a bitch.

There he peeled himself from shadows and dust, rising up to his full height. A skeleton, yes, but his head aflame in blue fire where once hair had grown, hungrily licking out into the darkness. He pulled a sword behind him, the reason for the scraping noise, and it was huge, almost unwieldy so. It was long, at least a bastardsword for sure, but twice as wide as any I had seen.

This was the famous Kingsbane, the blade of treason and betrayal that had tasted the blood of countless foes of the realm as well as its King's. In his left hand, he pulled a thick chain of glittering metal, glued together with more of the same fire that had created and invigorated the undead. The chain was long, 25 feet or so, and hard to look at. It seemed to move on its own, vibrating, unclean like a painting splashed with water. He was in a full plate of a knight of the Ravenguard, all his long banned, cursed, and forgotten insignia proudly on display.

I spat in greeting. Took a stance as well as I could and drew sword and hammer. My shabby little rusty sword against the Kingsbane, what a joke. It was time for bravado if nothing else. "You are mine!“ I sneered at him with as much contempt as I could muster.

He stopped and tilted his skull as if searching for the unexpected sound. Then a gurgling rasping sound came out of the flames on his skull. Laughter.

"I smell....fresh mountain air. I smell a home forgotten and a king long dead.“ Again the rasping laughter. "You will do. You will be enough.“

Step after excruciatingly slow step he came closer, and I had to will myself to stand my ground. The air grew colder to the point of small crystals of ice forming on the metal in my hands.

"I will see your death sentence completed, traitor! I will finish what you seem to have avoided until today.“ I screamed at him.

"No. No, you will not. Your justice means nothing to the powers I bartered with.“ He did not slow down. He approached with a sense of inevitability.

"Is that what you did? Cheated death by selling your soul like an apple on market-day?“ I tried so hard to stand my ground, but I found myself moving backwards along with his shambling steps.

"No. I sold myself and got paid well. Salvation for me and mine. A misdeed undone by the merit of suffering for something greater than me or your little Kingdom.“

Now it was my turn to laugh. It sounded hollow and ugly, even to my ears.

“The greater good? Walking bones and hollow souls are the mark of the greater good?“

His flames blazed with anewed rage. "Mock what you will, Raven spawn, but know that every breath you ever took was paid for by the suffering of the Avalanche and me, who you call Regicide. Who I call savior of humanity.“

He roared but calmed as quickly as his anger had risen. He continued calmly: "It does not matter. My days are numbered. I feel the bond weakening as we speak. The gods won’t answer and I fear they are gone. And with them the reason for my vigil. There is just one thing left to do," he whispered. His eyes, purple flames in a sea of blue, turned to me. For the first time really looking at me. "To kill the spawn of a king so foul, it took its own guard to kill him. May the world be better for it.“

The chain in his hand snapped to life without any movement from him, as a mountain snake disturbed, and shot through the air where my head had been a moment ago, had I not seen it coming and dodged away. I stormed towards him. My sword aimed for his neck, but he caught it with his own blade and was quick enough to even batter away my hammer on the swing back.

Again, his chain smashed to the ground, dust exploding, and this time I had to jump clear of him to escape it. The chain could strike on his own, but he could swing it as well, with much greater force. If I let him lure me into a fight, sword versus sword, the chain could attack my back and blind spots.

I retreated further, under the laughter of the Regicide, while dodging the chain twice as I went. And suddenly he rushed forwards, like the avalanche he liked so much. I dodged and parried where I could, but he was at least as fast as me and I lost my footing by the second.

The attacks came from all directions, he pressed heavily with this monster of a sword of his from the front, while the chain snaked around me, whirling and snapping, the spiked head of the chain suddenly changing directions at the last second. I was overwhelmed, and soon bleeding, for his slashes parted even my [Stonehide]. I was caught and outclassed.

I was fighting a legend of his time and mine and I was just a man. Not even Level 5 in my class, Twice - Born or not. Who knew what the Regicide had for Skills and Levels or had he lost them all in his death? He did not seem to have activated any so far. But he was easily overpowering my [Improved Strength] and [Improved Agility]. And he was a master with a blade, his skill far beyond anything I could muster.

As soon as I realized that I was a mouse fighting with a dragon, I unleashed [a Murder of Crows], with as much Mana as I had, ending [Stonehide] prematurely. They raced forth, emerging from my fluttering cloak in their cacophony of sounds, bringing chaos and disruption to the otherwise unsettlingly silent fight.

And I followed as soon as my foot had a good grip on the smooth surface of the stone. I shot forward into the storm of crows, the chaos, into the sword even and the whirling chain. I hit metal and bone hard and pain erupted in the shoulder I had hit him with.

We went down and every careful thought left my mind. What remained was frenzy and me lashing out in fear and the will to survive. He was dangerous, strong, and fast, skilled even, but he was still a skeleton. A being without any body mass, no amount of armor could rectify that fact, quite the contrary. He had to fight my weight and the weight of his gear at the same time.

I buried him under me, and we wrestled. Cold air bit me, frost crawling under my metal and leather. With a sharp pain, the chain snapped around my neck from behind, cold steel squeezing and grinding my flesh. Breath left me as my windpipe got squashed. Light left me. My head began to swim in a sea of wool, of dampened sounds and darkness.

Something crushed under me, my hammer finding something important, smashing it to bits. The chain went lifeless and limp in an instant, but I had to struggle still. To pull the chain off my neck, to force air through beaten and bruised neck and lungs. To see something behind dancing stars in front of my face.

I fell down, hitting my head hard on the stone. But he was still under me, still moving. I spat a glob of fresh blood in his grinning, burning face. It sizzled.

"Now you belong to me, asshole.“ I went to town, hammer rising and falling, a dull sound in a silent hall. But music to my ears.

Just lying there, just behind his broken form, I still couldn’t catch a sane thought for the life of me. A frenzied whisper of many voices tormented me with an energy I could not place. It was frenetic and angry, but also ecstatic and happy. And in the center of this chaos was a negative space.

Stillness and silence where the betrayer should have been or was. And I felt it...him...there. Or rather his absence. It was an emptiness waiting to be filled. And so I reached out. And I felt something. Something I could grab. Something I could pull.

"Again,“ I croaked. "I claim you. You do not get to get away“

And I pulled. Something in me pulled with me. And with a cold snap, the emptiness in the chaos of voices was filled. Filled with something silent. His soul was mine. The souls around me, my flock of souls, howled in triumph and satisfaction. And as soon as the crescendo began to rise to levels that hurt my ears, it went away, leaving me alone again. Alone. Again.