Perversions of the Flesh

Chapter 200: Lower Floors of the Tower

“By the Gods, you can what?” Bren asked.

“I can read it! The text! Well, it’s more of a poetic script that doesn’t really say anything clearly, but it’s legible for the most part,” Ann said, looking over the pillar. “It’s… I dunno how to really describe it. It reads like ideas that form a concept, but not sentence structure like we’re used to.”

“Explain further,” Bren demanded, his journal snapping open and his pencil already in hand.

“Ok, so see this side here?” Ann pointed to the blue crystal side. “This is talking about depths, great expanse, unknowable beauty, constant motion, darkness and light. It goes on to talk about life and death, creatures great and small. Pretty sure this is about the ocean. Maybe space? It’s really hard to tell, because it doesn’t mention water, but the blue gem kinda clues me into that?”

“What about the rest?”

“Red is really clearly fire. Actually, it might just be heat as an overarching concept. Talks about burning, destruction, reduction of things to base elements, melting, forging, and bringing new shape to all things. Gotta say, for a language, this is really shit at explaining direct meaning. Anyway, green is… green is weird. Green has words I see in several of these. Creatures, heat, cold, movement, expanse, adaptation, struggle, connection, separation. Lots of contrasting concepts.”

“I do not know what to make of that,” Bren shrugged, recording it anyway. “The next?”

“Yellow. Yellow seems to cover a lot of emotions. Things like fear, anxiety, uncertainty, impermanence and shifting of time. Some of these really don’t seem to match up with the theme, but that’s what’s there.

“Orange is, well, it’s a mix of yellow and red. Kinda mean that literally. I think the overall concept is tempering through heat and strife. Basically, bad things happen, and the fear or anxiety of that comes together to make something stronger. Sounds like some old phrase I remember of hard times making strong men. That sort of thing.

“From there we’ve… well, we’ve got Orenous, pretty much. Connection, passion, love, tenderness and hope. Building something new through combined desire and trust. Converting different beings into one and letting the result be more than either could be apart.

“Gold is interesting. It’s divine in intent. Lots of descriptions of radiance and purpose. Interesting that things like fluctuation and metamorphosis are described. Do the Gods do that kind of thing?”

“Not that I know of,” Bren said. “Well, wait, there are some minor deities that have been altered over the centuries due to their terrain and domain enduring catastrophes or settlers. Perhaps it refers to that?”

“Dunno. Questions for scholars,” Ann shrugged, returning to the pillar. Oddly, the last two were refusing to become clear. Black and white remained squiggles to her perception. Nothing came to her mind. She couldn’t glean a translation, vague feeling, just nothing.

“Um. So, I can’t read this part,” Ann said, tapping the two faces. “Not sure why. It’s not translating.”

“As in, they are a different dialect? Perhaps a different script?”

“No, no, pretty sure it’s the same, but the meaning just… isn’t there? Like, I look at the rest, and my brain just makes the lines into information, just like if I were reading a book. These, though? Squiggles.”

“Strange,” Lucia grumbled. “Buildings lie now.”

“You think it’s hiding the meaning from her?” Rosalyn asked, still hugging Ann, dangling by her arms as Ann carried her around.

“Yes,” the huntress nodded. “Look at door. Same?”

Ann peered through the darkness and found she could read the carving on the door. It was all words involving warding and passage. “Yeah. Can read those fine.”

“Then lies. Secrets. Thing Warped talked to?”

“Probably. Shite, I hate this cryptic shite. Ye find anythin’ on what in the Hells we’re supposed tae do in here?”

“Oh, right. The bowl says something. Give me a minute.” Ann leaned in, hoisted Rosalyn up to make her more comfortable on her back, and started reading. “By the Great Design we know our Paths. Through endless time and toil, time’s wrath. Show ye devotion to all that came before. Proof of your life, laid down by those of yore. Great, it’s a riddle.”

“Well, it’s a bowl. Gotta put somethin’ in it,” Kat grumbled, cupping her chin with a meaty hand. “Talkin’ about history, right? Not familiar wit’ the Great Design thing, but sounds like some’s interpretation o’ what the Gods work on.”

“I am inclined to agree,” Bren said. “What do we do to show devotion to those who came before, though?”

“Oh, duh, our bodies!” Rosalyn said. “Makes sense. We’re all from our parents, and their parents, and so on, right? We’re living proof of history! Maybe some of our blood? Hair could work too, though. Spit? Some skin? Ooh, I can carve off some of that without it being too painful. Do we all have to do it, or just one of us?”

“How much?” Lucia asked, stepping up to the bowl. It was rather large, enough to hold a lot of whatever they put in. Looking down at her arm, then the bowl, Lucia shook her head. “Not enough.”

“Not to fill it, no. Maybe it’s just some? We won’t know until we try,” Ann shrugged.

“Feck it, I’ll go first,” Kat sighed. She pulled out her knife and drew a braid forward. Ann cringed as the knife sliced through the strands with ease. She loved that hair. Still, a portion of brunette braid was tossed into the bowl.

“Me next!” Rosalyn declared, taking the knife and repeating the process. Even with her contribution, nothing changed. The bowl remained a bowl. “Huh. Did I get it wrong?”

“Let’s get all of us in there first. Bren, you’re next.”

Bren took the knife and offered hair, mixing it with Kat’s and Rosalyn’s. Then Lucia. By now, it was a small pile resting in the basin. Still, no movement. No sound. No reaction from the room.

“If it’s me again, I’m gonna freak out,” Ann groaned. She didn’t need the knife. Taking a claw, she cut a small lock from her shaggy mane of hair. Gently, the strands drifted down to rest upon the mixture of other hair.

Ann jumped back as a rumble sounded beneath the plinth. The bowl stayed exactly where it was, but the hair burst into flame. The acrid smell of burning hair filled the room. Lucia winced and covered her nose, backing away from the brazier. As quickly as it appeared, the flame dispersed, leaving an empty bowl. Not even ashes remained.

“So, we found a self-cleanin’ bowl? Could be useful,” Kat chuckled.

Ann cast her eyes over the room. “Oh, that’s it! The blockage is gone!” As soon as she said that, a shutter further up slammed open, and a beam of light shone upon the start of the stairs.

“I daresay our hosts are inviting us,” Bren laughed, moving forward.

“Don’t like it. Keep behind me. Might be trapped,” Kat ordered. “Lucia, ye take up the rear wit’ Rosalyn.”

Formation established, they ascended. It was an open atrium, without even a railing for the stairs set into the wall. Maybe there had been one, but it had just rotted away like much of the structure. As they rose, Ann noticed a new detail. Where she’d seen stairs before, and only stairs, there were now two landings above.

When they reached the first, Kat poked her head over the edge first, checking for danger. “All clear. It’s another thing we’ve gotta do.”

Ann pulled into view of the platform. It was like the floor below, but suspended over the central atrium. Smooth stone covered the floor, leading to a sharp ledge. Carefully, Ann walked over and peered down. The light on the bowl below still shone in the gloom. The way was blocked again. This time, a conspicuously heavy bookshelf had wedged itself onto the stairs, preventing them from going further. Kat tried to move it, but it didn’t even creak in protest.

At the centre of the room was a stone table. Its wide, flat surface had grooves running around the edges, and more of the writing around three-quarters of the way up. Again, it was the only thing to interact with, save a ceremonial-looking knife. It was a brilliant metal, with a blood red hilt and pommel. The blade was straight and looked wickedly sharp even now.

“I don’t like the looks of this one,” Rosalyn shivered.

Ann bent over the table, reading what it said. “Life comes with hardships aplenty. It takes from us and leaves us empty. May you witness the inevitable end and lend a helping hand. None can escape its coming, though many do, and take to running. Gone, alone, in agony. Hear my cry, accept my plea. Take the blade, and remove thine eyes, so you will be blinded to their wicked lies.”

“Why is that the one that’s straightforward?” Rosalyn squeaked. “What the actual fuck?”

“It wants us tae stab out someone’s eyes?” Kat looked pale.

“That’s what it seemed like, yeah,” Ann nodded. She had the awful feeling that this was all aimed at her. This was something only she could endure and keep going. If she lost her eyes, she could grow new ones back. “Who the fuck is they, though? Whose plea is this? How the hell is this supposed to help the ‘inevitable end’? I don’t get it!”

A rumble shook the platform. As they watched, a small row of stones fell, clattering to the floor far below.

“Shite. Don’t have time. Ann, ye’re ok with this?”

“Either that or we die. Let me try changing my eyes first.”

She had already started the process, her wolf eyes bulging out of her skull before they fell out. Gently, she laid them down on the table. “Anything?” she asked as her new eyes grew in. Reptile this time, since they could also help with low light.

“Nae.”

Another row fell.

“Fuck. This is going to fucking hurt.”

“Bren, ye heal her. Keep it as painless as possible.”

Ann hopped up on the table. “Who’s doing it?”

“I will…”

“I’ll do it,” Rosalyn said, interrupting Kat. “What? I’ve taken apart so many Warped, I know what I’m doing. Hand me the knife. I’ll make this as painless as I can.”

“It said something about pain,” Ann pointed out. “I don’t think a surgical manner is going to work here.”

“Fine. Damnit. Hold her down, please! Ann. I’m sorry,” Rosalyn said, climbing up on top of Ann, straddling her chest. “This is sick. I hate this.”

“I do too,” Ann said. She was trying to stay strong, but panic was screaming in her heart. Instinctual self-preservation roaring inside her, demanding she run. Flee. That word again. Seeing the end, and wanting to flee. Maybe that was the point? Seeing the end coming, and going towards it anyway? She still wasn’t sure what the fuck the lie portion was about.

Strong hands grabbed Ann’s arms, pinning her down. Lucia grabbed her ankles, holding her with equal determination.

“Ya know, I’d say this was kinky if we were anywhere else,” Ann laughed in a feeble attempt at humour.

“Not worse than bitin’ the shite outta Rosalyn, right? Just grit yer teeth an’ don’t bite yer tongue,” Kat instructed.

“Right. No different. Do it,” Ann said, looking up at Rosalyn.

She saw the hesitation. That moment where Rosalyn wavered and made her decision. A gentle, soft hand reached down and rested on Ann’s face, thumb and forefinger framing her eye.

“Come on, lambchop. Before we both lose it,” Ann said. She really felt it. Much more waiting, and she’d start to struggle. She’d struggle anyway, but she had to make this easier.

The knife flashed downwards, and Ann let out a feral scream. Pain! Searing pain and the awful feeling of something being shoved into her where it didn’t belong. Her eyelid tried to blink it away, only to be held open by the blade.She felt the knife scrape the back of her socket. She almost puked. As soon as it was in her face, the knife was gone. The pain stayed. Ann thrashed against the hands holding her down. She needed to get the fuck out of here. Get out of this cursed place that was hell-bent on torturing her.

“Heal her!” Kat yelled.

“I am! It’s not dulling the pain!” Bren yelled back.

“Feck. Curse? Rosalyn, ye need tae get the other one. I’m gonna hold ‘er head still.”

“Yeah. I’ll do it.” Rosalyn’s voice was trembling. Terror. Ann knew that far too well right now.

Through tears, Ann looked up with her one good eye and summoned the last tiny bit of resolve she had. Her lips twisted in what she hoped was a smile, but probably wasn’t.

Rosalyn stabbed her again.

Darkness engulfed her as the pain doubled. Agony. All she knew was agony. What the fuck was her life? Was this why she’d been spared her fate? To be fucking tortured by those she loved?

The pain washed away.

“It’s working,” Bren breathed out. “The pain. I can heal it. Ann, change your eyes again, please.”

Ann triggered the skill. The headache was nothing. Shit, it was almost welcome compared to what she’d just experienced. Vision bloomed. Rosalyn was sobbing on top of her, a bloody dagger still gripped in her hand.

Ann lunged, knocking the dagger from the Druid’s hand and wrapping her in a fierce hug that was returned wholeheartedly.

“Thank you,” Ann whispered.

“Don’t thank me for this,” Rosalyn sobbed.

“No, you’re right. No thanks for this.” She sat there, stroking Rosalyn’s hair, leaning against the woman’s horn. “I knew you’d be better than anyone else.”

“Me too,” Rosalyn sniffled. “’S why I offered.”

“Guess this is payback for biting you?”

“Not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“I like that!”

“It still hurts!”

“Yeah, but, well, I like it!”

“You’re fucked in the head,” Ann laughed.

“No, you fuck my head!”

They both laughed, feeling some of the adrenaline draining from them.

“Your face is a mess. Wash off,” Rosalyn said, crawling off the table.

Ann did as she was bidden and used some water in her waterskin to clean her face. A lot of red came off. It poured onto the table, running into the grooves and out of sight.

“Been a good minute since I was covered in blood,” Ann groaned, getting to her feet.

“Don’t like ye bein’ like that,” Kat grumbled, her eyes dark. “This place is foul.”

“Not sure if it’s what it’s intended, but I think I get a little bit about the whole poem. I felt awful back there. Started questioning if this is why I survived. Being tortured by those I love until I either break or give up. If I could have seen this coming, I’d have run from Orenous on our first meeting.”

“Ann,” Kat whispered.

“I… I mean, would you? If you knew your second chance was going to be full of agony? Oh, trust me, the good far outweighs the bad right now, but the bad really fucking sucks.”

They stood there for an awkward minute, no one quite sure what to say.

“I’ll figure it out,” Ann sighed. “I would just appreciate not getting stabbed again.”

“I’d appreciate getting out of here,” Rosalyn said.

“And we’ve got at least one more of these,” Ann groaned, looking up. “Not to mention whatever’s at the top.”

“Hopefully somethin’ I can kill,” Kat growled. Ann swore for a moment she saw the back of Kat’s neck ripple, as if her scales had moved.

“You should be fully restored,” Bren said, lowering his wand. “Truly a sadistic experience. What could be directing this at you?”

“Cool, not just me who thinks this is all being pointed my way. First, I get mind fucked trying to read some writing, then tortured in there, then tortured here? By a trial that only I can come out of relatively whole? I don’t like it.”

“Agreed,” Lucia nodded. “Evil. Much hatred. Glad ok.”

“Thanks. So, Kat, can you move the bookshelf now, or is the gap too much?”

“Well, considerin’ the stones re-formed when ye finished, no gap. Lemme check.” Kat walked over and pushed at the wooden piece of furniture. It easily slid to the side and toppled off the ledge to the ground below.

“Way’s open,” Kat informed everyone watching.

“Well, no time like the present to get disemboweled," Ann sighed. Her feet carried her towards the stairs, leaving her heart behind. “Let’s get this over with.”