RE: Monarch-Chapter 295: ??? XVI
It's the fall that kills you. Not the impact, the fall.
You get a few seconds to look around, feel the iron weight of the world dragging you down, see the ground rushing up from below. Every misstep and murky self-assurance parades itself before you in stark clarity—so foolish, now, framed in the immediacy of impending mortality. Because it didn't have to happen. A little massaging from a sanctioned church or a local lord friendly enough to throw you a bone, and you could've swapped that writ of service for a writ of servitude, or joined the priesthood.
But no. Whether you sought glory or were simply too stupid to see which way the wind was blowing, you ended up here, in servitude of another name.
Now you're falling, and all that protection you're strapped up in is making the fall even faster.
Even if you somehow survive it? You're not coming back the same.
The voice that echoed in my mind as I painstakingly made my descent was from my old life. My uncle's. It was the tail end of a bitter rant that took place during the wind down of one of the Elven campaigns. As always, the humans had the numbers advantage—but the elves dug their heels in, chose their battles carefully, and used an array of advanced tactics rarely seen in the typically one-sided campaigns.
Aethermancers—essentially air mages, though supposedly it was a bit more advanced than that—made the most of tight, treacherous terrain by working in pairs. They'd pluck fully armored men from the ordered front lines, lifting them directly upward and back, dangling them perilously high in the air as if they'd been chosen by the gods themselves for rapture. It disrupted the range of archers, casters, and artillery for as much time as possible, before the aethermancers simply ended the spell and let them drop, raining improvised projectiles upon the army below.
It was apparently effective enough to turn several presumed victories into narrow losses—and the number would have been higher if those failures hadn't earned the King's personal attention.
Luther told me all this, of course, because he was a mean drunk and I was a child who was afraid of heights.
For what it's worth, he apologized eventually.
But his recounting had always stayed with me. Even now, as I made slow progress down the rope, I couldn't help but consider how long I'd have to work through my mistakes if my tether failed.
I'd been descending for what felt like an age. The warm sphere of the lantern's light had begun to feel more like a prison than a boon, its brightness restricting my sight, leaving me claustrophobic and blind. Only the occasional brush of stone at my side when the rope swayed gave me any sense of stability.
It was still and silent enough that the blood circulating my body sounded raucous in my ears, every thud of my pulse tangible.
Every so often, I'd glimpse glistening red upon the rock walls—the only evidence that the ghouls weren't some terrible nightmare birthed by foul air.
What is she up to?
"Where the hells are you going?" The voice was immediate, ear-shattering after what felt like an eternity of silence.
I started badly, nearly losing grip on the rope before over-correcting, clinging to the now-swinging purchase for dear life. It took a moment to spot her. The white curtains of her hair registered in my mind first, then the rest of her pale visage, leaning over what must have been a ledge. There was a narrow rectangle in the surrounding rock, too clearly symmetrical to be anything but man-made.
"How was I supposed to see that, exactly?"
"With your eyes."
"Right. Great. The light from a candle would have done perfectly to mark the destination, but sure, use my eyes."
"Stop whinging. I found it easily. Without the convenience of knowing where to look." It was difficult to make out Thoth's expression, but I was certain she was smirking.
The narrative has been taken without permission. any sightings.
"Yes. You are
so much
better at finding holes in walls." As I begrudgingly ascended, I tried to glimpse what lay behind her. There wasn't much to see. But a small, shell-like glass protrusion directly above her caught my attention. "Is that… a mana lamp?"
Thoth took a step back, looked up towards the ceiling, and clapped once. Crimson flooded outward, illuminating the doorway and its fringes in a predominantly ruddy hue. "Huh. Would you look at that? Too bad I missed it. Would have made the climb easier."
"I swear to all the gods, you must be the oldest child I've ever met."
Her smile faded. "Stop wasting time."
Now she wanted to hurry? It wasn't exactly a summer jaunt, getting down there, and it would have gone faster if she'd simply marked the entrance somehow.
I swung out and leapt from above, closing the gap.
Wrestling the oozing ghouls in through the relatively tight opening had left it badly marked. There was a great deal of blood spread on the walls and, unbeknownst to me, the ground as well.
What should have been a clean landing immediately dissolved into panic as my boots slipped on floor with less traction than ice. And in the horrible interim, as I felt my weight shift towards the abyss below, my uncle's words came back to haunt me once again.
Shit. What a stupid end.
As my feet slipped entirely free of the ledge and I plunged backward, a dark shadow bolted from the doorway, unbelievably quick. The momentum of the fall was suddenly brutally halted, and a disorienting swing carried me outward, then back again, hurled through open air until I landed hard, rolling as an afterthought, sliding across the stone.
I panted, closing my eyes to clear the dizziness and vertigo, until a swift kick to my boot roused me.
"Did you slip on purpose?" Thoth's crimson-washed face stared down at me, utterly placid.
"Nearly fall to my death?"
"Don't play stupid. I've said enough for you to get ideas about dying early."
"And just as much about how easy it would be to find me in the next iteration if that happened. Which has been thoroughly demonstrated." I returned bitterly, using the nearby wall as support as I struggled to my feet. "I'm as invested in finding out what happened here as you are."
Her eyes narrowed. "Too much so."
"Well, which is it?" I asked, exasperated. "Am I too interested, or trying to off myself before so much as glimpsing what we dragged ourselves here for?"
"Why does it matter?" Thoth continued on, as if she hadn't heard me. "It's over. All you have left are your memories. Why taint them unless the entire purpose is to take stolen knowledge back to the beginning of the iteration—"
"—
Come off it.
Maybe this is difficult to understand, because whatever humanity is left in you has dwindled to the size of a fucking stunted peanut, but it's normal to want closure in the face of death."
Her eyes flashed. "Imagine. Having the
luxury
of—"
There was a loud guttural groan and a metal clatter that echoed down the hall.
Both our heads turned towards it.
"I swear, if they broke out because of your incompetence…" Looking particularly displeased, Thoth left it there, jogging toward the din.
"
My
—What the fuck are we even—"
I caught myself, then took several deep breaths, using the distance to mentally center and force the seething tightness in my chest to unclench.
Getting along with people was an attribute I once considered my greatest strength. Being able to sit across the table from someone and find common ground, no matter what our differences were.
The notable exceptions were my father and Thoth.
But with Thoth, it was a continuing struggle to so much as fake convalescence, something that came easily with Gil, even in my first life. Withstanding her should have been easy, neutral as she was. Most of the physical torment was external, slow poisoning from the air.
Yet one sharp word was all it took to raise my hackles, and then I was arguing bitterly, escalating and worsening the current circumstances when it would be more reasonable to simply… let it be.
I could hear her in the distance, shuffling around, grunting and cursing beneath her breath.
Slowly, the sense of creeping dread returned. I walked down the hallway at a slow pace, queer glowing lights and remaining vertigo lending the sensation of drifting through a dream, as if all of this was the climax of a terrible nightmare, and any moment I'd awake in Kholis, heart racing, flooded with relief.
But the morning never came. And at the end of the hall I found a set of stairs that descended further into the dark. Fear clutched at my chest, the idea of even taking the first step down filling me with terror and revulsion.
It felt familiar, and when I put my finger on why, the realization brought no comfort. The sense was nearly the same as when I'd been on the verge of discovering the terrible contents of Barion's cabin.
A pervading sense of wrongness that weighed my legs down with iron.
Yet just as before, I set downward, preparing myself for all I would find there.
Chapter 295: ??? XVI
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