Professor Kal - Chapter 106

In a fit of rage, he struck out at the smirking figure standing in the mirror, shattering it into hundreds of razor-sharp pieces that fell to the ground. A dull ache radiated up from his hand, looking down, he saw that the old, wrinkled flesh once again covered his bones. Across his knuckles was a large gash that oozed blood and exposed his moving tendons. Taking a handkerchief out of the pocket of his robe, he wrapped it around his hand and continued on, his footsteps grinding the broken glass into the plush maroon carpet that lined the hall.

After what felt like hours of walking, he finally found the end of the hallway. A spiral staircase came into view, it was magical in nature as that the steps were not supported in any visible way, just silently floating in place as they led down. Carefully, he put his foot on the first step, testing it with ever increasing weight. Satisfied that it wouldn’t give way and send him tumbling down the steps to his death, he slowly made his way down.

The last floating step led him to a cavernous room teeming with activity. Young men and women were hurrying about, some in groups of three or more, all talking amongst each other, producing a cacophony of voices. A large board set imposingly in the center of the room; a long counter placed directly next to it. Many of the men and women were either looking at the board or talking to the people behind the counter.

As he nervously weaved his way through the throng of people, many of them bowed and acknowledged him as ‘Sir’ as he passed. Ignoring them completely, he stopped in front of the massive bulletin board. Pinned to it were many pieces of parchment, all completely blank. He shook his head quickly back and forth before looking back at the board, only to find that nothing had changed.

Fed up, he turned away, only to come face to face with a young man staring at him with those dull, white eyes.

“You’re going to die.” The young man said, both his face and tone of voice apathetic.

“Shut up!”

“You’ll never get out of here.” Another, more feminine voice informed him from his right.

Turning his head toward the additional voice, he saw a mousy, young woman looking at him with the same white eyes. Looking around himself, he noticed that all of the hustling people had grown still, all turning to look at him with those lifeless, white eyes.

He took a step back.

“You’re already dead.”

Then another.

“Your soul will rot in here forever.”

Another.

“Just give up.”

A magnitude of voices derided him as he retreated toward the back wall. It was becoming harder and harder for him to keep his terror in check. He was beginning to believe those voices, that he was already dead, that he was in hell, stuck here for all eternity. He started to run. The monsters with their dead eyes parting for him as he ran, watching him, always watching.

He burst through a door, closing it hastily behind him, the dust drifting down and coating his balding head as it was shaken from the rafters above. His chest billowed up and down as his body starved for air. His heart was racing, threatening to burst from his chest, ending his terror once and for all.

Slowly but surely, his heart slowed as well as his breathing. As the adrenaline faded away, it was replaced by extreme fatigue, he only wanted to lay down and rest but knew he couldn’t. He had to keep pressing forward, he had to find a way out of this horrid place.

There was a short hall in front of him, the only light being given off came from two lit torches hanging off of stone walls. The short hall led to a dim stairwell, the light from the torches unable to pierce the veil of darkness as the steps ran down into the earth. Taking a torch from its sconce, he held it before him, using it to light up the darkness as he made his way down the treacherous steps.

A cool, damp breeze sapped the strength from his feeble frame, the sound of dripping water reached his ears from further down. Running his hands over the moist, stone walls, he felt the ancient chisel marks left behind by whomever had built this passageway. Eventually, an orange glow could be seen, growing brighter with each step as he drew closer.

The stairs opened up into an underground room, a few braziers burning merrily in the four corners, providing dim, orange light. Taking a breath in, he observed, that other than the smell of mold and moisture, there was the thick smell of iron, of blood. A large table was set up in the center of the room with many different items separated into neat piles sitting atop of it.

Taking the torch, he examined the contents of the table, the harsh glow casting flickering shadows on the nearby walls. Everything listed on the ancient parchment that he had found within the desk was sitting on this table. Nightshade, crushed unicorn horn, arsenic… an infant’s liver, everything he needed was here. He stopped at that sudden thought, why did he need all of this? Was there something that he was supposed to do?

The papers in the desk listed the ingredients, and the steps to follow during the ritual, but it failed to mention what the ritual was supposed to accomplish. Was he meant to perform the ritual, the Endless Dusk? Everything was already prepared, a magical array was drawn into the dirt floor in the center of the room, all the ingredients were present, all he needed to do was complete it. But should he?

What if this was what the monster with the white eyes wanted, maybe it was just a trap? If it wasn’t, then why would it let him come this far? Then why did he feel like he needed to, had to perform the ritual. That if he failed to complete it, everything would be lost forever.

Heavy thuds could be heard echoing from the stair way, sounds of creaking wood accompanying each one. Something was trying to break down the door at the top of the stairs, sending him into a momentary panic. He wasn’t certain how long the door would hold; he didn’t remember locking it, but he must have, seeing how much trouble it was giving whatever was on the other side.

Steeling his resolve, he began mixing the ingredients as per the instructions he had read on the parchment. His old and feeble body moved with practiced motions, as if he had been practicing alchemy for many, many years. He tried not to put too much thought into why he knew what he did, he just allowed his body to follow its own path as he watched the concoction come together.

He was starting to feel a little bit dizzy as noxious fumes wafted up from the beakers in front of him, an acrid smell clung to the inside of his nose, overpowering any other scents that might have been in the musty air. He mixed the two of them together, creating a deadly looking purple liquid that bubbled and belched inside the clear glass flask. He held it up to the dim firelight and swirled it around, making sure that it had completely blended together.

A booming crash came from atop the stairs, quickly followed by heavy footsteps that grew louder with every passing moment. Startled, he fumbled the container he was holding, nearly dropping it. Luckily, his old body still had somewhat reliable reflexes and was able to catch it at the very last moment. He moved as quickly as he could toward the center of the magical array, keeping one eye on the dim entrance to the stairway as the footsteps drew near.

Emerging from the darkness was what he had feared the most, an abomination with a stretched human face and bulbous dead eyes. The orange glow from the braziers caused shadows to move and dance across its horrid face, making it appear to be constantly changing as its eyes locked onto him from across the room.

“Theeeeeeeere you are.” It said in a soothing, feminine voice. “Still putting up a fight even though you’re already dead?”

Still clutching the glass beaker in his arthritic hand, he edged closer to the center of the array. “How am I already dead? What are you? What is this place?”

The monster slowly moved in closer, a smile spread across its pallid face. “It means just that, you are dead, only this little bit of your soul remains.”

“So, this place is constructed just to torment me? Are you here to pass judgement upon my soul?”

Its eyes seemed to shift between him and the flask in his hands as it answered. “This wretched place is of your own making, the last bastion of your pitiful existence. Although I am fascinated with how it managed to keep me out for so long. I was only able to influence you at a distance, but no longer, it is time you except your fate.”

He took the final step into the array, keeping his eyes on the monster in front of him. “And if I refuse?”

“I GROW TIRED OF THESE GAMES!!” It bellowed, its feminine voice morphing into one fitting its appearance. “You obstinate worm! Just roll over and die!”

As the monster charged forward, knocking the large table to the side, and sending it crashing against the wall, he brought the flask to his lips and guzzled it. The effects were immediate. He doubled over in immense pain, the potion ate away at his insides, turning his flesh into fuel for the magical array. The dozens of runes and glyphs making up the circle exuded an oppressive, crimson hue.

The monster dashed into the magical array, attempting to put an end to the process, only to be repelled by a solid wall of red light that surrounded it and the man inside. It used its many clawed hands to strike at the forcefield, each hit creating an arc of red lightening accompanied by harsh buzzing sounds, but no matter how violently it attacked, the wall held firm.

On the other side of the transparent wall of light, the man was collapsed on the ground, his body convulsing as wafts of smoke from his melting insides poured from every orifice. He was past the point of feeling pain, what he was feeling now was worse than anything he could have ever imagined. It was as if every nerve in his body was being dipped in scalding hot saltwater before being raked over hot coals to dry, like his very soul was being cut up into minuscule pieces only to be sewn back together with needle and thread.

His wrinkled flesh began to blister, some growing as large as lemons before bursting open, spilling thick yellow pus onto the dusty ground. All of his hair had fallen out and his eyes dried up to resemble shriveled prunes before dropping out of his skull. His blistered skin sloughed off in large chunks, revealing rotted muscle and white bones. Even his black robes were being eaten by the vile potion, rotting away with the rest of his body, turning into dust.

The monster never ceased its attempts to break through the barrier, in fact, its attacks seemed to take on a frantic speed as the ritual progressed. It could only watch as the flesh disintegrated off of the man before it, leaving only a bleached white skeleton curled on the floor.

With no more flesh to burn, the magical array’s power dissipated, causing the barrier separating the monster from the man to fall. Just as the monster took its first step into the array, the skeleton at the center began to move, its snow-white bones working to stand themselves upright. The beast moved faster, desperate to cross the final few feet between it and its target.

Thick, iron chains burst forth from every direction, wrapping themselves around the monster, barbed hooks digging into its waxy flesh. Thrashing about, the hooks burrowed deeper into its large body, causing black blood to spatter on the walls and ceiling. Quickly finding that the restraints only tightened the more it struggled, the monster unwillingly gave up trying to escape.

“I think it’s time we get to know each other better, don’t you?” Mage Khorag Kolbrúnarskáld, or more recently known as Professor Kalcifer, spat in a deep, grating voice, the flames in his eye-sockets blazing with fury.