text: Brought to consciousness by the piercing chill of a mountain wind, a man wearily creaks open his eyes to see snow crumbling from his face and clenched between the grasp of his closing fists. Confused and groggy, he begins turning over to see the sun struggling to breach through the cloud that seems to surround him, and also finds himself coming face to face with a young woman; a woman whose long obsidian hair lightly brushes some of what is left of the snow from the man’s face, during its somehow gentle whipping in the midst of this forceful and brisk mountain air. Her complexion almost entirely opposed that of her hair color, and her carried expression was at a crossroads of longing and optimism. He met her gaze of acknowledgement with one of confusion. As he attempts to take in his surroundings and perhaps gain a clue as to what is going on and who this woman is, she places her hand on his cheek to softly run her thumb across it. The man turns back at this new development and begins to open his mouth to speak but is cut off when the woman voices herself in a demanding and caring tone instead. “You will remember, Ronin.” With that, the gentle, warm, and welcome touch of this mystery woman is replaced by a stiffer texture and a much dryer cold as the mountain top on which Ronin had seemed to be atop had now changed. Instead of the choked sun breaching through a cloud, the light is almost nonexistent except for some ambiguous glow that had no clear point of origin, shedding itself no-farther than arm’s length before tapering back into the darkness that seems to be so prominent in this chamber. The snow-covered craggy rocks are being traded for a much flatter and questionably worked stone, but it’s too dark to clearly tell if the ground has been cut. Once again having to gather himself, Ronin begins to shift up from the position he was lying in, atop the peak, all the while every movement made is echoing throughout this perfectly still chamber. The possible expanse of the darkness, growing each passing moment, as any semblance of walls grow farther away; the more fearful thoughts are put in. Ronin, finally getting to his feet, feels the blood begin to rush to his head for the first time in what feels like ages. Ronin exhales a short sigh through dry lips while brushing off what looks to be either dust or dirt, or perhaps even both from his coat buckled over with leather fittings. The clothes he’s wearing appear to fit perfectly and the leathers look to bare nicks from what could possibly be a blade. The slim cuts are too clean to be from the rocks of a mountain top, but he cannot recall being in any confrontation. In fact, reaching into the farthest depths of his memory seemed to show it as empty as this hollow atrium. Inspecting himself further revealed a mundane broadsword sheathed in a metal scabbard riddled with scrapes and pockmarks. Neither the sword nor the scabbard showed anything that would allow them to be identified with any person or place. Just as he’s taking this in, Ronin begins to hear a shuffle along with a murmur. His head begins to quickly spin around in an attempt to locate where these scattered muffled noises are coming from, but pinning a spot of emergence proves itself a hard task with the sounds reverberating off of whatever far-reaching walls are holding them in. Before Ronin has a chance to draw his weapon, a face emerges. And then a body draped in what looks to be, at one point, a beautiful set of ornate robes, now tattered by altercations or time itself. This entity was exuding its own light as it shown a pale green human like form that began to pace through what was still a mass of black. Ronin remained still, waiting for this creature to act. But it continued its seemingly pointless path, stepping back and forth while mumbling some incoherent phrases that trailed off into new thoughts. This moment is taken to more closely inspect what at first sight has the look of some incorporeal specter floating through the space only fifteen feet away, but now is proving itself to have some footing in the material world with each of its barefooted feet finding purchase on this now clearly cut stone. Filling the immediate space of this chamber with the pattering of skin and the sound of bone, it becomes clearer that what would be the skin of this hairless creature is not fully intact. Pieces of flesh missing on spots of the decayed cheek where the teeth are visibly clenched; the moving mandible jostling a chunk that batters against the throat which is vibrating with the indecisive speech of a man who has all but lost his mind. However, the most prominent feature this being possesses are the larger feathered wings that sprawl and twitch with every other step of the pacing. The wings themselves were missing patches and seemingly lacking an air about them, which must have once been a beautiful sight. Ronin then spoke out to this remain of what is now a miserable and wretched version of an angel. He managed to utter words through an extremely dry pair of vocal cords that produced a husky and worn sounding, “Hello?” Followed by his own cough and the completely still animation and noise of the angel. The head quickly turned to the space next to Ronin and then snapping to look him directly in the eyes, the sound of the neck turning being a mixture of dry bones and stringy sinew squishing out of a large gash in the neck, but no signs of blood or any other lubricant that would give it moisture. In this stare, it was now clear both the harrowing gaze this being possessed and also the intimidating size of the angel. The height reaching what could be guessed to be around thirteen feet and the wings, furling out in an uneven and curious manor, making themselves between five to six feet on their own. This towering stature mixed with its horrifying visage created an aura that infected Ronin’s own courage and began to turn it into a rot that he could feel eating away at any thought of fighting this fiend. Shakily the angel took its bony finger with its over-extended fingernails and rubbed its sickly jade colored scalp in almost a nervous fashion before bringing back down to interlock with its other spindly match. It was then that it seemed the angel began to notice Ronin’s physical presence as opposed to the dead stare that seemingly peered into his own doubt. The angel’s single step forward was met with two steps back from Ronin. There’s a pause and then the ghoulish being spoke. “Those like you should never walk among us. You should not be walking this HALL!” The angel shouted with an intensity and strength which heavily conflicted with its appearance but, nevertheless, reached whatever far lying walls escaped to the edges of this now named hall. “What are you?” Ronin manages to force out without showing too much shakiness in his voice. “He’s here you know...” The angel snaps his head back with a creak and a gasp as he stares back into the abyss-like void of no light that surrounds them both just long enough for Ronin to begin to look in that direction as well before whipping back around as the lobe of its left ear falls away onto the stone below. Now leaning in intently to Ronin as if guarding a secret. Strangely the stench of decay doesn’t permeate the angel, but rather, the smell of old stored away leathers left for years at a time. The cold, but still full of emotion, eyes looking into Ronin’s; two rings of white surrounding entirely dilated deep black pupils darting back and forth almost as if trying to figure out which of Ronin’s to speak into. “He...” The angel starts again but chokes out his own words by beginning to chew on the skin of the tip of his fingers beneath the nail. This making whatever apparent warning impossible to hear over his masochistic devouring of his index and middle fingers simultaneously, but still mumbling through them, nonetheless. “Come now Ithreaus, your revolting habits are no way to welcome guests, now are they?” A voice billows out of the dark that is much stronger and sure of itself than that of the angel’s, but still disembodied. “Yes, my lord.” Ithreaus says fearfully as he places his hands back into their interlocking positions resting on his chest as his gaze has now shot to the floor. “How was your slumber Ronin?” The faceless voice turning its attention to the, seemingly, only living being in this exchange. “My slumber?” Ronin scratchily works out. “How did you sleep?” Ronin now able to watch the unnaturally deep words ease themselves out of the smirking lipless mouth of a lion shaped face without a mane for contrast, made of what would appear to be burning coals or embers, emerging itself into the lurid pale green light emanating from Ithreaus “I find it hard to imagine lying underground for years, covered in dirt can be a pleasant and forgiving experience.” Now the entity has all but fully emerged from the shadow and showing its body wrapped in some form of dark toned tapestry. It is clear there is a scene embroidered upon it but being wrapped around this, perhaps, demon in a dark chamber makes it impossible to surmise. “I was asleep?” Ronin asks almost instinctually as to keep the conversation going while processing what it is he is seeing. “No, actually you were dead; for many years in fact.” The answer from this manipulated form of a feline creature grasping Ronin’s full attention. “If you’re saying I was dead? Then why am I standing here now? What are you? What is he? And what am I doing here?” Ronin, beginning to grow more comfortable with his place in the conversation, lets out a flood of questions that have been building since he woke here just a moment ago. “Careful.” The unnamed creature sternly warns with a snarl; all playfulness and welcoming spirit suddenly gone from its voice. This outburst is taken back immediately by Ronin who has had the tiniest bit of conversational leverage he perceived himself to have ripped away, and now feeling smaller on the standing on the cold floor than he had before. “You are a guest after all...do not overstep. You are alive now because I have willed it Ronin. Your resurrection was manifested by my hands. Not only does your life belong to me but so do your memories. I’ve found that if not withheld, memories cause the thralls to run back home and join in reunions, and I find that quite boring. I will say that I do enjoy watching their faces when they realize what trepidation they brought upon their families when I splay their beloveds on the ceilings of their homes or burn them all inside, screaming, while the one belonging to me feels no heat at all.” The devilish monster lets out an at ease sigh as it seems to be momentarily relaxing in a tranquil thought somewhere deep in a recess of his undoubtably horrific mind. “I digress; you’re the first of a new kind. You see I’m going to use you Ronin. You will be a vessel for me when I need it and when I don’t, you’ll be free to wander or do as you please. Doesn’t that sound much better than feeding the crawling worms beneath the ground?” Ronin takes a moment to consider. “If I were to refuse, what then?” While still extremely petrified by the towering figure that is more or less giving him an order, Ronin finds that no matter how frightened he has become there seems to be a bit of mettle that protects his own bravery from sinking too low in this darkness. The lion-like features on the face glow with a subtle light, almost emerging from some interior flame. This flickering glow extends to the hollow sockets where eyes would normally situate themselves. After hearing this question, a large grin begins to widen underneath the snout of the fiend. “Then you take his place.” He then gestures his smoldering paw towards Ithreaus who now has taken to his knees and appears to be rubbing the stone in careful detailed circles while one side of his face looks to be crying and the other seems to be in a dead stare into the distance past Ronin. “I’ll let you have a little taste of what it was to walk on the earthen soil instead of filling it; then you can make your decision.” Just as the demon finishes his sentence, the crushing sound of stone scrapping on stone fills the space just before a small light in the distance shines a natural light in the hall from behind Ronin. With this little bit of light now breaching through the pitch black that had become normalcy, Ronin is now able to see that the wide body of the dominating figure was human like but only in its shape and stance. Two muscular arms slipped out from underneath the black and silver tapestry; sprawling out below was what might have been its most terrifying feature. The body continued down unto two cat-like legs but where the body would naturally taper into a tail, the torso continued into a snake like design that looked to be moved by several more pairs of resting legs. The extent of the length disappeared back into the shadow. “Go on now.” The demon said with a smugness and a suggestive smile before extending a paw towards the opening in the room. Before turning around, Ronin took one last look behind the creatures and noticed a shrine along with what looked to be the shape of pillars leading out of view into the shadow of the darkness. He looked to be standing in some ancient place of worship lost for some reason likely only known by this malicious monstrosity. Slowly and suspiciously, Ronin began to turn to leave and as he did the nightmare now looming over Ronin moved with his eyes until he faced away entirely. The first sight to Ronin’s eyes is a staircase of twenty or so large stone steps descending into what shows itself to be a field of statues leading to the opening of light. Taking slow steps down these large stairs and occasionally looking back to be aware of any movements from the two stationary beings he’s leaving behind. The ember-glowing lion still smiling and Itheaus still on his knees but peering out past Ronin into the field of statues with a contortion of almost guilt animating his face, making his way down the staircase and now entering the long expanse of these statues all shaped into different stances. Walking through them now, he is able to see that they hold a strong likeness to Ithreaus if he were what he was before whatever fate happened upon him. Some of them stuck in mid-stride wielding great claymores or shields and others depict angels leaning down and perhaps caring for a fallen ally. All seem to be faced towards the staircase and toward the shrine. A few of the works closer to the shrine have faces twisted with fear or pain and others seem to be bracing for something. Walking through this underground field, it is clear there are hundreds of these, and the light continues to show more the wider his gaze expands. Eventually Ronin comes to find his way to the light, and he begins to feel the warmth of the sun melt its way through the chillness of the chamber. Slowly he climbs the last set of stairs, as the sunlight blinds his unadjusted eyes, leading back into a world completely new to him and holding a destiny that may or may not be his to decide.