He came out of the Hölloch like a spirit slipping from a tomb—gaunt and bearing a coldness unrelated to the mountain air. The Penitent's Blade hung across his back a shard of seized darkness against his gold. It weighed less, than his sword but it burdened his soul like the heaviness of submerged stars.
In the dim slate-grey glow of the afternoon the village of Muotathal lay quiet. Smoke spiraled from chimneys. The fields were left untended. Everyone was waiting.
He noticed them by the border of the forest near the wooden chalet. The identical group, yet their terror had twisted into a reluctant acceptance. Walter, the man remained separate supported by his cane. He gazed at Alexander ignoring the dark sword focusing instead on his face. On the eyes, behind the helmet that had witnessed the depths of existence.
"You possess it " Walter declared. It was not an inquiry.
Alexander simply gave a nod. His voice seemed stuck and hoarse.
Walter observed him for a while then faced away with a sigh that appeared to weigh down his shoulders further. "The brightness, within you is dimmed. The mountain has exhaled upon it. Come. You won't rest peacefully tonight. You also won't slumber in its breath."
He guided Alexander away from the village square to a chalet with low beams situated somewhat isolated. Inside it was one space centered around a large stone fireplace where a fire of seasoned pine popped and hissed. The atmosphere was dense, with the scents of smoke drying herbs and firm cheese.
"Sit down " Walter instructed, motioning toward a stool. "You plan to depart at daybreak correct? Heading to the location your orders require?"
Alexander loosened his sword belt placing the sword and its shadowy counterpart next to each other on the compacted dirt floor. Seeing them united—one representing a decree the other reflecting judgment on his spirit—felt disquieting. He took a seat the warmth from the fire failing to reach the deep, within him. Removing his helmet he laid it on the table. His white hair clung to his head damp with sweat that had since cooled.
An elderly lady, Marta, Walter's spouse shifted quietly setting down a cracked clay vessel filled with stew and a piece of bread ahead of him. She avoided his gaze. Her hands, twisted like roots quivered faintly.
"Eat " Walter urged, sitting down in a rickety chair across, from me. "The mountain draws away your heat. You need to replenish it."
Alexander ate his meal. The stew was rich containing venison and barley. It lacked flavor. The quiet lingered, broken by the crackle of the fire. At last he broke the silence his tone hoarse. "You mentioned your grandfather. The one who returned with nothing."
Walter gave a nod gazing into the fire. "He was fortunate. The mountain doesn't always remain so… kind."
"Tell me."
Walter's pale eyes, glimmering in the firelight became unfocused. "You believe you entered a cave today, Messenger. You didn't. You stepped into a throat."
He drew deeply from a mug. "The Hölloch never forgets. It. It recalls. It recalls the flavor of the bear that tumbled into its chasm a millennium ago. It recalls the trickle of the glacier that shaped it.. It recalls every fool who ever brought a torch into its depths."
He bent closer his tone lowering to the rhythm of a tale shared on the brink of slumber, where reality and terror merge. "My uncle, a hunter vanished in the Year of the Deep Snow. One moment he was present the next just his tracks heading inward. No noise. No reflection. We searched for seven days. The mountain returned merely our weary faint calls."
". The knight…" Marta murmured from the darkness near the fireplace her tone, like brittle leaves. "Speak to him about the knight, Walter."
Walter's jaw clenched. "Yes. The knight. Not local. Descended from the lowlands generations ago clad in armor that gleamed as you do.. Did." He cast a look at the dulled plate, on Alexander's breastplate. "He had learned stories of a demon lurking below. A creature of darkness. He intended to kill it to make his legend."
A log fell apart in the flames releasing a spray of sparks.
He entered accompanied by two men acting as guides. They carried ropes, torches, sacred relics—the ritual. The knight was… cheerful. He bragged about the tunes they would perform." Walter's tone faded. "The guides emerged an hour afterward. Pale as the snow, atop the summit. They claimed they had arrived at the vast chamber, the place where the noise of the river disappears. The knight marched forward torch raised aloft demanding the demon reveal its presence."
Walter stopped, his aged eyes locking with Alexander's. "They mentioned the darkness encircling his torch grew denser. Like smoke, yet cold. It coiled around the flame. Extinguished it. No hiss. Just silence. Within that silence they perceived the knight's armor. A footstep. Then a shuffle, as though he were turning. Then… a sigh. Not a cry. A sigh of acknowledgment. After that nothing. No sound of armor crashing down. No gasp. Just the empty dark, waiting."
Alexander's hand paused on his spoon. The coldness in the air was no longer due, to the cave.
"They ran away " Walter went on. "After a week a shepherd boy discovered the knight's shield resting against a rock, beside another cave opening five miles further down the valley. It was flawless. Gleaming. Not a single mark marred it.. In the middle, where his emblem was supposed to be the metal appeared distorted as though it had… liquefied and reshaped into a form. The boy claimed it resembled a face. A face calm. A face resting."
Walter locked eyes with Alexander penetrating beyond his defenses his rank, into the fragile quivering heart. "The mountain doesn't always slay, Messenger. Sometimes it embraces. It reveals the calm that follows your struggle. The silence, beneath all your chaos. That knight entered to defeat a beast. The mountain revealed he was the beast—a being of rattling intent—and granted him tranquility. He accepted it."
The reality of the Penitent's Blade still resting against the wall echoed wordlessly in Alexander's thoughts. It didn't reveal creatures; it revealed your self. The Hölloch contained no fiends; it presented a conclusion, to the conflict.
"Why remain?" Alexander inquired, his tone rough. "If that is its essence?"
"Because it belongs to us this mountain " Marta murmured from her nook. "Its breath shapes our climate. Its quietness dwells within our bones. We sense its temper. We honor its appetite.. We understand that certain lights are excessively bright, overly loud and it will consume them to preserve the darkness's harmony." She met his eyes her stare steady and filled with sympathy. "You glow intensely now. When faded. It must have been a great temptation for the deep."
Alexander gazed at his hands. They belonged to a fighter. In the glow of the fire they appeared simply as a man's hands. Weary. Able to grip both a blade and a bowl of soup. The contrast was overwhelming.
"The General of the Abyss " Alexander whispered softly. "He was present. Down below."
Walter showed no surprise. He just gave a nod. "The silent figure, with the spikes. Occasionally he appears. He never talks to us. He stays at the entrance like hes hearing something. Then he departs. He doesn't enter to dominate. He enters… to hear."
To watch. To experiment. Duncan's words resonated.
"He thinks your Queen believes I can 'learn to see' " Alexander said, the phrase weighing on him like a treachery, against his Angel even as he uttered it.
For the time a glimmer of what resembled feeling flashed across Walter's timeworn visage. It could have been grief. "Observing is a thing, lad. My grandfather observed. It rendered him hollow. This knight of the dark… he observes. It has rendered him mute. What will it render you?"
Alexander had no answer. The fire crackled, the only defense against the vast, listening dark that pressed against the windows of the small chalet. That night, he did not dream of celestial battles or abyssal hordes. He dreamed of a polished shield with a peaceful, sleeping face etched into its metal, and of a sigh of recognition that went on forever, in a dark that was not evil, but endlessly, finally, complete.