Spirit's Awakening: The Path of Lightning and Water

Chapter 96: Beseeched

Lassim followed through the draped hide curtains that led to the inner entrance of the spire, thinking that there’d be the interior of a warm and cozy hut inside. But this was merely the façade of their habitat, a prelude to the true heart of their existence in this plane.

With a firm push from behind, encouraging his steps forwards forcefully, the veiled Drow priestesses guided Lassim towards what appeared to be a hidden room behind a wall of bones and tree branches, only to reveal it as the entrance to a vast subterranean network.

The ground beneath him gave way to a steep descent, and the company began their journey into the earth.

The tunnels they navigated were clearly ancient, the walls scarred with the evidence of monstrous claws, telling of a past where possibly colossal beasts had burrowed through the soil. The massive skeletons Lassim had seen outside giving credence to this assumption of his.

As they delved deeper, the chilling embrace of the surface cold had dissipated, replaced by an eerie warmth emanating from the tunnel floors beneath his feet.

The air grew thick and humid, carrying a heavy, earthy scent that clung to Lassim’s senses. He felt the warmth envelop him, a stark contrast to the icy grip of the world above.

It was as if the village had been built atop a geothermal anomaly, its heat harnessed by the Drow as he noticed some vent-like holes in the walls that also seemed to radiate a flow of heated air from down below.

Arriving at a communal area where the High Priestess had stopped, he admired how she still appeared to be like a wintery queen. The leaves on her unique draping of leaf litter and roots appeared perma-frozen which left him curious. He also still didn’t even know her name.

As he admired and thought about the High Priestess, he was forced to his knees before her once again by the other Drow.

Lassim could feel the pulsating heat through the earth, an almost rhythmic beat like the heartbeat of the plane flowing directly beneath the surface. It was a little odd, but everything so far had been odd and he could hardly make sense of it all.

His main thought that replaced his curiosity was just slight thankfulness for being pushed down again as now his extremities began to warm a little faster.

The torch-lit tunnels that led to this communal area revealed the shadows of more Drow villagers as they navigated the labyrinthine passages with ease, their whispering voices now amplified by the closeness of the earthen walls as they commented and shared their thoughts with each other, beholding Lassim’s weakened frame in the middle of the room.

Here, in the bowels of their underground refuge, the Drow’s savage nature was undeniable.

Not just on the surface was there the bones of the dead used as their shelter, but also in the tunnels carved out by some behemoth creature were there ornamental trophies of slain animals and skeletons decorating every surface.

It was savage beyond belief, the above and below both morbid to Lassim’s tastes, where the macabre aesthetic of the village was but an insight into their preferences.

With Lassim on his knees before the High Priestess, he was handed a cup made of the skull of some smaller creature. Inside was the melted snow and some bits of leaves, the container warm in his hands as he received it.

The High Priestess nodded and he grimly took a sip, before suddenly chugging the rest of it. The first sip sent a relief all throughout his body and the warmth led him to drinking the rest. Then a wave of relaxation sent through his muscles and body as whatever the leaves were started to reinvigorate him slightly.

With his body and mental state slowly recovering from the bitter cold, the High Priestess once again mind melded with Lassim to communicate once more.

The High Priestess explained that the black markings on their bodies, which Lassim had mistaken for tattoos, were indeed manifestations of Khaalseru’s influence—a physical representation of their god’s power and a sign of them being one of its children.

Every drow born under Khaalseru’s watchful gaze was marked from birth with these sigils, which pulsed with a life force tied directly to their creator’s heart.

"The markings," she whispered into Lassim’s mind, her thoughts tinged with both reverence and sorrow, "are currently our blessings and our curses. They link us to Khaalseru, grant some of us the abilities to manipulate the spaces around us, and others to use some of the elements you are familiar with.

But worst of all, they also tether us to the god’s faltering health and the dark fate of the corruption inflicted upon Khaalseru."

"Our god is both our creator and soon will be our destroyer if we cannot resolve this situation," the High Priestess continued, her mental voice a mixture of fear and devotion. "Khaalseru’s touch can warp space, create pathways between worlds, and twist the very fabric of reality. But the corruption...

it festers, and it spreads, influencing all it touches, including the very essence of this realm and its creatures. Some of our tribe members have succumbed to the corruption and gone insane. They become twisted amalgamations of Drow mixed with whatever source the corruption is from. There are only around 1,500 members of our tribe left… When we first arrived we were in the millions…"

Lassim listened, his heart heavy with the tragedy of their fate. He was saddened that these beings, so fiercely otherworldly and so intricately tied to their god, were caught in a struggle that threatened to undo their world.

"Now, let us take our conversation to the outside so others can learn of you like I have. I shall impress upon you my memories of our language so you may speak and understand us, like I have done for you. It may feel overwhelming, but bear with the pressure."

Lassim’s mind was then flooded with an intense amount of information. The High Priestess showed her life as a child and the happy moments of learning how to speak from her parents and chatting with friends. He learned her name was Sanvra Yathrin.

The pressure and rapid fire memories were absorbed into his mind, making him feel like he was losing a tiny part of himself but felt strangely affectionate now towards the Drow. Their sense of aesthetics and culture seemed to become one with him at a surface level state, where he could appreciate what he found slightly revolting earlier.

Yet, the information was a bit too overwhelming in his weakened state as he directly fell unconscious.

As the connection faded and the High Priestess withdrew her touch, Lassim was knocked out for a time.

While he was asleep, Sanvra explained Lassim and his situation to the gathering of Drow that had come to witness the newcomer. Shock and disbelief in Lassim’s potential ability to help them spread among them.

Lassim awoke, feeling slightly odd about his body, like it wasn’t his, for a few moments before his normal feelings returned to him.

As his grasp on his surroundings returned, Sanvra gave a final, desperate plea in Drow language. "[You, who walk among gods, if you hold any power, any favor with these Elder Gods… we beseech you to make them remember us, the forgotten children of a primal deity. Perhaps in your time here, you might find a way to shine a light into our darkness.]"

Lassim felt a little odd realizing he fully understood her words when the full weight of her gaze and the gaze of the hundreds gathered around him lingered on his body, leaving him alone with his thoughts in the chilling air, pondering the lives of these wild, beautiful creatures bound to a miserable fate.