Stepping forward Tharne listened intently, tilting his head slightly, as if trying to catch a faint sound in the darkness. damp gusts of cold wind mixed with the dry ash surrounding their feel, clustering it into loose clumps, like delicate grey-black snow. all the companions seemed hesitant to move, as if unsure what to do next, their enemies scattered and vanquished, yet none of the questions had been answered.
finally, steeling himself, Tharne let the glow of his staff intensify, its blue hues mirroring the wet and dripping stone walls beyond, and after a short pause, closed his eyes and simply strode slowly forward into the unknown gloom, placing one foot in front of the other.
the sounds of footsteps followed him as he felt his friends Auras resonating behind him. Ahead, stood only the inky black and sounds of delicate drops, as streams of dark water rained all around, musically playing their random percussion and chimes through the thick cold air.
After what seemed hours, yet could have been only minutes shuffling around in the dark, Tharne jumped as a hand touched his shoulder. Turning quickly, he brandished his staff, stopping as he saw Blake’s stern face. Blake’s outstretched hand, held the end of a long rope, and Tharne saw all the others carefully tying themselves together. Even the outspoken Yuri and the boisterous Tomu seemed to be quelled by the ambiance and crushing weight of the tunnels around them, and silently, they strung themselves closely together, as if the fear of separation threatened to freeze their hearts still.
The tunnels continued, strange pipes and mechanisms, covered in sticky brown sludge whirred sporadically as they turned, providing the only respite from the bleak dark stone and dripping waters.
Wandering endlessly, Tharne felt his thoughts growing sluggish and dull. time seemed to disappear as they wandered together, barely daring to make a sound, as if a mere whisper might wake the darkness itself from its slumber. something felt amiss, as if they were swimming through thick thoughts and each breath felt labored through Tharnes cold, clenching lungs.
a grey lifeless mist began to billow around their feet, drifting cold and damp in concert to the dripping waters and bubbling currents of waterfalls sprouting from pipes and cracks in the face of the towering columns and pillars of great expanses of bare rock and extended narrow corridors.
reflections and shimmering patterns played in the mist, rising and falling as the mist itself grew and fluctuated.
A sudden pull from his waist woke Tharne from his dreamy state. The rope had gone tight.
Turning, he saw the others staring off into the darkness to their left, eyes squinting and staring into the gloom.
There, across the great expanse of a rough chasm, torn through the very floor itself, the flowing mist seemed alive as it drew through the air and twisted around stone.
Tharne’s eyes grew wide, as he saw strange figures emerge through the substance of time and space itself. Nameless yet familiar faces grew and dissipated, waxing and waning in a pulsating tide, their mouths silent and closed, as though sealed and shut. Forever silent, forever hollow, lost in the oblivion.
The others stood with Tharne and watched the strange procession with silence and awe, the very walls and air seemed sorrowful and torn, as if trying to hold together, like delicate ribbon shredded by a mighty yet silent storm
Then they were gone, whispers on the wind, the fog once again stood still.
Ivy clutched to Tharne, the air in the cavernous room seemed pressing and thick on his skin, palpable resonance and pressure confined his thoughts and filled his skin with impending terror.
Then the figures came, just one or two at first, but soon dozens appeared from the deep mist draping the walls and floor in its white curtain. Their eyes broken, their mouths clenched in silent screams, vicious teeth bared.
Their tattered clothes echoing a thousand lost nations, a million citizens, forgotten in the flow of time now coming towards them, and as they turned and ran, the silence of their footfalls was counterpointed by a single long screaming word.
“Death”
Then the sounds of battle once again shattered the quiet balance. Echoing cries spurred them onwards, stuck at the front of the long rope, Tharne could only run forward as he lead the way through the twisting tunnels.
Blasts from Nima’s Bow strung great scores across the walls beside him, piercing and penetrating a ghostly apparition. yet the beast continued to advance only seconds later as if it were indestructible and undeterred by each blow. Nyms Guns of Bamboo sung a humming song of projectile wooden bolts, blazing through the creatures as their forms leapt forth from walls and clutched at their feet from below. Tharne turned to help Vasius as he stumbled beneath the overbearing weight of several tearing visions, barely managing to avoid tumbling and dooming the others behind to fall on tangled rope.
Tharne led them on as fast as he could. Left, right, hundreds of paths, each different and yet the
same, each he took he encountered horrible visions of lost time and forgotten ages. A startling spectre leapt from a wall ahead of him and he pulsed a barrier of energy above him, pressing it out and above as he and his friends leapt past.
he began to press forward along a series of long corridors, all sloping upwards. his thoughts became stronger as they moved forward. The fog began to thin, the spectres fading and moaning with grief, anger and pain as they left them behind and leapt through a set of arches and into the great stone colonnades of a hanging garden. Light filled their eyes and Tharne felt his thoughts become once again his own.
Panting together, they removed the ropes and lay motionless except for the rising and falling of their
chests. The air, cleaner and more crisp and fresh than that of the tunnels, filled their lungs and Tharne felt their Auras become clearer again as their heads and bodies cleaned whatever foul magic had infected them below in he tunnels.
For what seemed hours they lay there, some silent, others gasped or muttered quietly at what they had just seen. Together they had fought demons and horrors of shadow and smoke, but these ghosts and spirits, they were people like them, from ages and eons past. facing the onslaught from tempered spirits of their own kin brought him such distress that he turned and shed tears for both himself and for the loss he felt in each of their hearts. The spirits below had blamed them for their deaths, he could feel it, and the tears which ran down his cheeks and clouded his eyes reflected the guilt of a crime unleashed upon his own people, a crime he could not remember, a crime that he never committed, yet understood at his core was his.
Finally standing, he was the first to move forward and peer out from between the columns, surveying the surrounds with unease and cautious optimism as he attempted to ascertain their location and any dangers which threatened them.
Creeping forward through a long arced corridor covered with thick Jasmine and Ivy vines, warmth
lifted his heart. For there, with joyous eyes, he saw the great spire of the Crystal Citadel rising above the ruined buildings of the great city and its walls. Beyond, the swirling inferno of raw energy and matter, frozen in its perpetual descent upon the last bastion of civilisation, littered the sky with great chunks of planets, stars and time itself all frozen in a beautiful and terrifying last breath of the universe beyond the shelter of the dome above them.
Thinking of the small kitchen they had barricaded in their first hours together, hidden somewhere in that towering structure, a smile came back to Tharne’s face.
“we are finally almost home” he said quietly to himself.
Shattered Cosmos 
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