Meeting in the Dark

Jaxxor the Jackrabbit screamed as the seemingly solid rock he was standing on suddenly gave out and he found himself hurtling into the darkness. The paladin let out a startled cry before he hit the ground with a thud, right on his rear.

“Ooof!” he grunted, his whole body hurt, but he was pleasantly surprised to find the fall was shorter than he expected. He looked up towards the dim light of his companions' torches.

“Jax?!” one of them called down, worry in his voice.

“I’m alright!” the jackrabbit called up seeing the furry lagomorph faces of his companions peering down at him.

“We can’t get you out of there,” Commander Lursh called down to him. “We don’t have any spare rope.”

“We have to press on,” Lilly - the lone female of their troop - added.

Jaxxor silently cursed. “It’s okay, I’ll find a way back up to you. You three press on, find the ancient texts, the texts to destroy Veilwinter.”

“Catch!” One of his mates said as a torch was tossed down to him.

The paladins of Tyr had been given a task: to enter the cursed cavernous realms of The Abyss and find an ancient tome - A tome that was said to hold the key to destroying their current prime enemy, the sinister cult of the Veilwinter Temple.

They knew the trip would be dangerous - In fact, it was one they would very likely not survive - but, if it meant destroying their enemies, it was a journey their oaths had compelled them to make.

Time passed differently in the Abyss. They had been inside for mere hours, but on the surface days could have already passed. Those that returned from the Abyss had usually become mad, to say nothing of the voracious giant insects and undead they had already encountered who would clean up any survivors.

It truly was closer to the Hells physically and in spirit than anywhere else.

Jaxxor lit his torch the light of the flames showing runes etched into the stone floor.

“Where exactly am I?” the hare asked himself aloud.

“I know where you are!” a raspy voice grunted. “You’re down here - with me!”

“Who’s there?” Jaxxor shouted, thrusting his torch out, the flickering light showed a creature in a tattered green cloak, a muzzle protruding from the cowl. Looked like a canine of some sort.

Jaxxor didn’t trust canines, even ones who were supposedly paladins of Tyr.

He especially didn’t trust canines who loomed out of the darkness of the Abyss.

“Stay back!” Jaxxor ordered.

The canine lifted a gnarled old paw. “I mean you no harm. I have been down here for a long time. A long, long, long time.”

Jaxxor swiveled an ear back. “You live here alone?”

A low chuckle. “I suppose you could say I was thrown down here, but others will claim that I jumped in willingly... and I’ve been trapped ever since.”

The figure drew closer and Jaxxor recoiled reflexively.

“Look,” Jaxxor said, stepping backward into the dark, “I can’t help you. I need to get back to my companions.”

The cloak tilted his head. “Mmm, yes. The Abyss is a dangerous place. Perhaps I could be of assistance?”

The jackrabbit scowled. “I doubt that.”

The figure drew closer leaning against a cane of some sort.

Whoever he was, he was damn persistent. “Why are you here?”

“I’m not going to tell you that,” Jaxxor scowled as he looked around with his torch.

“You came for knowledge, perhaps?” the mysterious figure rasped.

That perked up Jaxxor’s interest. “You know of the thing I am searching for?”

The figure drew closer, “The ancient texts, the grimoire: Yes, I know of it and I can take you to its resting place.”

Jaxxor drew closer, the light of his torch reflecting briefly in the figures eyes before he turned his head away from the light.

“You can get me there?” Jaxxor questioned.

“Most certainly,” the figure rasped. “Please, this way,” a gnarled hand beckoned the Jackrabbit.

“You first,” Jaxxor grunted.

The shroud laughed. “Do you not trust me?”

“I don’t KNOW you,” Jaxxor replied, his paw kept a firm grip on his torch, his other paw resting on his dagger.

The figure shifted, “Well then, let’s change that. Shall we? Would you mind if you called me Scott?”

Jaxxor shook his fluffy head, his long ears flapping. “Call me Jaxxor.”

“This way,” Scott grunted, shuffling along the dark.

Hesitantly the jackrabbit followed after the strange canid, his sword drawn in case there was any funny business.

The two plodded along Scott leading the way. “The Abyss is no place for gentle creatures. You’ve no doubt learned this already.”

Jaxxor grunted. “I’m no gentle creature, I’m an elite Paladin, bringer of the light. My superiors entrusted me and my companions to carry out this mission.”

“Your superiors sent you down here... to die,” Scott retorted.

“If we must sacrifice ourselves, we will. Others will follow after us,” Jaxxor said thumping his chest.

Scott chuckled. “Brave of you, truly inspiring. I was like you once, my father was a great hero. I wanted to be just like him, he brought down a wicked king with just a bow, a sword, his wits, and a few loyal beasts. I tried following in his footsteps, but getting out of one’s shadow is a difficult process. Sometimes you never really leave the shadow.”

Jaxxor paused, “I actually understand what you mean, our fellowship, I’m always taken for granted.”

Scott turned his hood towards him. “And you wish to stand out?”

“I want to be appreciated,” Jaxxor replied.

Scott stopped walking. A subtle twitch of his ear, nearly imperceptible in the gloom, betrayed satisfaction. He turned his head slightly, the firelight from Jaxxor's torch catching the faintest glint of sharp teeth.

“Oh, you will be,” Scott said softly. “Down here, everyone finds who they really are. The Abyss has a way of… stripping off the masks we wear.”

Jaxxor frowned, the comment scratching at something just beneath his thoughts.

“Let’s keep moving,” the young rabbit said.

“Of course,” Scott replied smoothly.

They continued on, the stone beneath their feet becoming more twisted, the runes on the walls more chaotic, as if carved by maddened hands. The air thickened, heavy with the scent of old ashes and something else — something wrong. Jaxxor’s grip on his torch tightened.

“So this… grimoire,” Jaxxor ventured, breaking the silence. “What do you know of it?”

Scott didn’t answer at first. When he did, his voice was quieter, almost reverent. “It’s older than any temple you’ve ever sworn yourself to. Written by a being who saw not just the truth of light and dark, but the frailty of both. Its words reshape minds. Its pages bleed secrets.”

“That doesn’t sound like something to wield lightly.”

“No,” Scott said. “And yet… can your enemies be destroyed with half-measures? Can Veilwinter be ended by righteousness alone?”

Jaxxor didn't respond.

Scott went on, his pace slowing. “The Paladins will send more after you. And after them, more. Until none are left. The grimoire is power. Not to destroy you, but to save you. To save all of you.”

Jaxxor hesitated, ears twitching.

“Here we are,” Scott said. A cold wind from somewhere deep in the crevices of the world chilled Jaxxor’s thick winter fur.

They stood before a door, or something like a door. A jagged arch of obsidian-black bone jutted from the earth, rimmed with pulsing crimson sigils. A sense of vertigo washed over Jaxxor as he gazed at it.

“Scott, how do we get past this?”

A low chuckle. “You have to want to. It requires purity of intent.”

“Purity?” Jaxxor questioned.

“Not goodness,” Scott clarified. “Just… commitment. Resolve. The will to choose, even if the choice costs you everything.”

He turned to the jackrabbit, the torchlight revealing, for just a moment, something under the fur of the creature that Jaxxor didn’t recognize..

Jaxxor blinked, unsure of what he had just seen.

“...And a sacrifice,” Scott added in his raspy voice.

“What?” Jaxxor said.

“The opening of this gateway requires your commitment... Your resolve... and something more.”

Jaxxor blinked again, one of his ears twitching.

“What happened to you Scott? What did you give up?”

“I made a choice. Now it is your turn. The grimoire is powerful, no? You seek power. Power to do what is of no concern of mine... But the shortest road to power always requires sacrifice.”

Jaxxor twitched his nose. “Do I have to cut my own arm off?”

Scott bellowed a laugh, setting the Jackrabbit’s fur to stand on end.

“Oh, how quaint. First consider, then decide. Once you have chosen, I shall either guide you through the doors... or you will find the others hiding in the dark and beg for their guidance instead.”

Jaxxor thought about him swearing his oath to Tyr on the altar, he thought of Lilly’s smile, and Lursh’s firm voice. But he also remembered Lilly overlooking him, Lursh not calling on him for anything unless necessary.

I just want to be seen.

Scott kept speaking. “Has your faith - your God - alone been enough to defeat Veilwinter?”

Jaxxor almost responded with the standard answer of how mighty Tyr was, but before he did all he saw were his lost friends, dead, reduced to madness, or made into empty, soulless vessels of Veilwinter.

Scott raised up his snout. “From your silence I gather that your oath, your prayers, and your God have been unable to stem the tide of evil.” His voice softened. “Perhaps your answer lies behind this door. Perhaps it does not. At least you will have tried.”

Jaxxor stepped forward, even though he felt his very soul screaming at him to stop. Scott guided the young paladin to a circular rune carved into the floor of the cave and handed him a knife - seemingly carved from some kind of bone. It glowed gently with an inner light.

Still softly, the canine spoke.

“Just a splash will do. Spill on the floor, and be sure to cover the rune completely.”

Jaxxor swallowed as he made a shallow cut to his palm, wincing as he did and letting the blood spill upon the floor.

“Yes,” Scott said. “More. Cover it completely.”

The pain Jax was feeling was searing. Not only in his palm, but somewhere else too. The knife - definitely a bone of some kind - glowed brighter in his hand and, when the ritual... or whatever it was... was done, Jax saw something in his companion that made his very soul recoil. The fox was but bones and mummified flesh held together by magic. Jaxxor knew, this decision would haunt him forever.

“Excellent!” ‘Scott’ said as the huge, stone, double doors surged with red lines of magic and began creeeeeeeeaking open.

“I… know what you are… I know WHO you are!” Jaxxor said in a trembling voice.

“Does it matter?” the ancient evil said, pointing towards a column in the distance, illuminated by red light whereupon a large black book sat. “Look before you young one. The grimoire. And you have retrieved it... for me.”

Jaxxor ran for it as the lich cackled. His paws grabbed the book which he thought was bound by leather, but as he looked upon the book he found it was bound of skin. Skin from a beast like him.

“I’ll not let you have it! You’ve lost vile vermin!”

Scott did not reply he just watched the paladin run.

“Savareth,” Scott said. “Traveller. Your wills be done.”

Jaxxor run, and as the jackrabbit ran visions began to fill his mind. Villages afire, himself standing upon bones.

Still the old lich’s voice echoed after him.

“You know, I tried to live after my father’s image. I tried to be a hero once too.”

“I don’t care!” Jaxxor shouted, his eyes watering. More visions filling his mind as he found himself running through the darkened caverns.

“Little bunny,” came another voice. Colder than the steppes.

“No! I am mighty, I am strong,” Jaxxor shouted to the darkness. “I will be the greatest hero of all.”

“Indeed you will,” the voice said, like a scar on his mind.

“Jax? JAX!” a friendly voice for once. Up ahead, on a nearby cliff, came friendly lights.

“I GOT IT, FRIENDS! I GOT IT!”

“Finally you did something right,” Lursh said, a little teasing in his voice as he pulled Jax up.

Jaxxor bristled. “You never respected me.”

“What are you-” Lursh stated before he recoiled, nearly dropping Jax back down. “What vile thing is this?”

“It’s an abyss creature masquerading as our friend!” Lilly shouted, pointing her clerical staff, burning with Tyr’s light, towards him.

“Friend? Friend? Is that all I ever was to you?” Jaxxor shouted. “Get that light out of my face, Lilly!”

“They are not your friends,” another voice - subtle, quiet, very similar to his own - whispered. “They wish to harm you. ...They are not who they seem.”

Jaxxor recoiled. “No, you’re not my friends! You are the abyssal creatures!”

What happened next was hard to say, there were flashes of light, and splotches of darkness darker than the rest. There was the rasp of blades, cries of pain, and the scent of blood being spilled. When it was all over, the stones were wet with the blood of his friends, their bodies splayed on the cold ground as if a careless child had thrown them there.

“What have I done? What have I become...” Jaxxor wondered, clutching the wound in his side that burned his very soul. Lilly’s staff lay on the ground in her own blood, flickering.

Tyr’s light wasn’t welcoming or comforting anymore, it was killing him.

Chittering, then the sound of a hundred chitinous feet. A giant centipede scampered past Jaxxor, then eyed the motionless bodies of his friends. It reared up on its tremendous thorax and came down, splitting Lilly’s body in two.

Abyss dwellers recognized their own, and this place was now his home - or, more accurately, his tomb.