Chapter 300 - Noble echoes
As a whole, Gaspar did not know what to make of the Hall of Echoes’ inner sections. Their purpose eluded him entirely. Like many of the remnants left behind by the ancient Zuver, deciphering the creators’ intentions felt much like chasing shadows. Yet the Zuver had designed these chambers with formidable defences, suggesting their importance far exceeded what they had discovered so far.
Those defences were, perhaps not unsurprisingly, exceptionally frustrating to overcome. Gaspar had lost track of how long they had been navigating the labyrinthine corridors and chambers, but it had been long enough to necessitate multiple breaks simply to avoid complete exhaustion. Despite the Rising Isle's meticulous preparations, their supplies of healing potions, mana potions, and other critical resources—such as the numerous rare and expensive elixirs to keep the effects of mana exhaustion at bay—were running dangerously low.
Gaspar could scarcely recall the last time his wizards had been pushed to such extremes on a single expedition. Ordinarily, the Rising Isle prided itself on readiness, but this time, their preparations had fallen short. That failure gnawed at him. Worse still, despite their numbers, skill, and experience, his wizards were barely holding their own. If not for the assistance they’d received here, it was entirely possible—perhaps even likely—that they would have been forced to retreat hours ago.
Meanwhile, the Baroness’ much smaller group pressed forward with unrelenting vigor, leaving Gaspar’s wizards with nothing to do but scramble to keep up. Even when faced with increasingly treacherous obstacles, the Baroness’ people seemed ardent in their goal of finding their patron, and it was almost embarrassing that Gaspar could not see the same drive in his own people.
Certainly, he was not afraid to admit that Rosa’s absurdly potent charms were pivotal in their progress. No matter their…origins, there was no denying their effectiveness. Yet they were mere aids — the heavy lifting still fell to the Isle’s wizards. And still, Gaspar found himself wondering how his wizards had reached a point where they had come to rely so on a group of four youths.
He preferred not to dwell on it for the time being. There would be plenty of time for reflection later, and then, he would ensure that his wizards learned from this experience.
For now, their focus remained on uncovering the truth of what was happening here in the Hall of Echoes. The anomaly plaguing this place was as bizarre as it was troubling. While the echoes in the outer sections were both dangerous and numerous, they were predictable in their strangeness. The inner chamber’s threats were far more erratic. At times, they encountered powerful echoes that vanished with a single decisive blow. Others regenerated endlessly, exhibiting bizarre, unpredictable behaviours. Sometimes you were only dealing with ancient arrays and wards forgotten by time, or if you were fortunate, puzzles that only slightly made you want to pull your hair out. However, that mattered little when the nature of each obstacle could shift in an instant, as had happened with the echo that blocked their path earlier.
There was, of course, the disturbing question of exactly what was causing all of this. What was the nature of the anomaly that could seemingly infiltrate these halls built by the Zuver? And why did its control appear more stable in the outer sections as compared to the inner ones? Gaspar took some comfort in the thought that this instability might mean the anomaly itself was fragile. Though fragile or not, neither it nor the Hall’s defences had yet to present an insurmountable challenge. Expending dozens upon dozens of elixirs and potions in their progress was not ideal, but it was the price that had to be paid. Gaspar was confident that it was only a matter of time before they uncovered some answers.
That confidence only grew when their group entered a chamber far larger than any they had encountered before. Towering stone pillars lined the walls, between which floated massive discs of polished silver suspended by some invisible force. The discs rotated slowly, catching and bending the faint light into shimmering patterns that danced across the smooth stone floor. Within their reflective surfaces, soft, ghostly figures moved, shifting between recognisable forms and abstract shapes, as if echoing memories of the long-gone Zuver.
The chamber walls were etched with thousands of spiraling runes, climbing towards a ceiling that rippled like a glossy liquid stilled in mid-motion. A strange energy filled the air, casting a rum, almost oppressive grey tint over everything. Gaspar felt an odd pull, urging him both to advance and hesitate. His gaze fixed on the ceiling and the discs, their slow movements hypnotic. Behind him, murmurs of awe rose from the other wizards, no doubt sensing the immense power that resonated within this space.
“Wait, is that…?” Allyssa’s voice cut through the noise, hanging uncertainly.
Gaspar, and presumably many others, shifted his focus towards the far end of the chamber. A single, solitary figure stood there, facing them. A slight crease formed on his brow.