Even as time approached midnight, the capital city of Drakoria was still heavy with gloom, and thousands waited outside of the goddess' temple for their turn to be healed. No one was in the mood to celebrate their 'victory'. More than 18,000 people died, and it would have been much worse. Much much worse.
In the silence of the grief, Nelson Nattkryper, the shadow mage, melded seamlessly into the darkness, his form becoming one with the shifting shadows. He navigated the city's byrinthine alleyways, his destination the King's castle. It was less secured than he thought, but he still went on with caution.
Donned in attire as dark as the midnight hour, Nelson's figure blended effortlessly with the obscurity of the castle's interior. As he strode along the hallway, the whisper of approaching footsteps jolted him into the protective embrace of a shadow-draped pilr. From the left corner ahead, a female demi-human with tiger-like features emerged. She wore a set of pace maid garments that appeared noticeably snug, almost as if they were meant for someone smaller. She must be a sve but she didn't bear the colr of one.
Nelson quietly watched as she walked by, carrying a silver tray with a wine-filled kettle. She never gnced his way, her focus locked ahead. Once she disappeared around the bend in the corridor, he stepped out from the shadows and continued his mission.
Having committed the castle's yout to memory, he navigated its corridors effortlessly. As he moved onward, he reached a hallway within the King's wing. Peering cautiously, he spotted two vigint knights stationed near the distant door. Swiftly, he vanished into the concealment of a nearby pilr's shadow, then darted from one shadowy refuge to another, silently closing the gap between himself and the guarding knights.
Upon reaching the vigint knights, Nelson halted and observed them closely. Fortunately, he noticed that a pilr's shadow on the opposite side stretched beneath the chamber's door. Still melded with the shadows, he climbed to the shadow on the ceiling above. From there, he smoothly moved into the shadow of the pilr, using it as a pathway to slip under the chamber's doors, all while remaining concealed from their watchful eyes.
Shadows coalesced gradually, materializing into the form of a man. Nelson now stood atop a grand stone staircase, its steps meticulously carved. Descending the stairs, he arrived at a dimly lit hallway. At one end, a colossal wall stood encased between two majestic, meticulously designed pilrs and at the other end iron gleamed. He started to walk towards the gleaming iron. Eborate sculptures adorned the walls, suggesting very old stories, but Nelson's urgency compelled him to disregard their tales as he pressed forward.
He reached a colossal bck iron door, its surface a masterpiece of intricate craftsmanship, depicting the imposing figure of a formidable dragon. The vault of Drakoria.
He approached the door, bringing out a red fist sized crystal from his belt bag as he walked. Reaching the door, though he was a tall man, he had to climb onto the dragon to pce the crystal into it's heart. It fitted, and glowed a bit then the door suddenly snapped open and pushed back a bit with a gentle creak, leaving it ajar.
It was completely dark inside. Nelson looked behind him, studied the shadows for a bit then pushed the doors, effortlessly. He didn't feel comfortable going into the darkness and also there's the fear that the door might sm shut once he get past it but Nelson knows he doesn't have time so he took a step in.
The moment his foot touched the ground inside, the air crackled with energy, and the torches burst into vibrant blue fmes, one at a time but very fast that it seemed like it was all at once. Dozens of them and they showed a great expanse.
Nelson walked in fully. The torches were held with both hands by lifelike sculptures of knights of old. A heavy disappointment gnawed at him as he was slowly moving forward, eyes looking around. This is the great vault of Drakoria that he had heard tales of as a child? The vault, once the stuff of legends, now y in ruin, cobwebs clinging to empty cupboards, and only a scant few treasures remained. Ahead of him were two colossal sculptures. They had hands resting regally on the hilt of real, razor-sharp swords that doesn't seem affected at all by time. A better door than the one Nelson had opened stood shut in between them. The King's tomb. Final resting pce of Drakoria's Kings of past, including Rond Dragonhart.
Nelson would love to go inside but he doesn't have the key. There's only one of it, and it stays with the king.
Ignoring the tomb, he began walking around the vault, looking around. The vault is rge but it is empty so it would be ea---found it! Inside an open cupboard, stood the egg. He approached it. It looked more beautiful than was described. It various colors seem to reflect the light of the vault.
The moment Nelson stretched out his hands to grab the egg, the atmosphere of the room changed. All of a sudden, there was a presence behind him. His heart began to pound heavily and his whole body froze. The fear that gripped him was beyond anything he had ever felt before and it was coming from the presence behind him. Whatever it was that was standing behind him, it wasn't natural. It was something far beyond, and it was very angry.
The vault's door smmed shut, plunging the chamber into darkness. It should have been an advantage for him, but strangely, it left him powerless, his abilities stripped away. A massive palm, dwarfing his head, cmped onto his skull, holding him still. A searing pain bzed under his feet, like the start of a fire. He panicked and grabbed hold of the massive hand to break free but it wouldn't bulge. Blue fmes enveloped his feet, the acrid scent of burnt flesh filling the air. He screamed in unrelenting agony, his cries echoing through the vault.
Then, as quickly as it began, it ended. Nelson's body disintegrated into a cloud of dust, vanishing into the invisible currents of an unseen wind, leaving behind only echoes of his final scream.
