Chapter 54: Crypt
The doors groaned loudly open when the captain placed a cautious hand over their lusterless surface, sliding inward to reveal a dark stretch. Golden plates shining, Garran and Dain stepped in, with Valens taking to the middle of the group when Captain Edric gave him a nod.
What welcomed him inside were the faint whispers over the scattered Resonance, growing distant still like fair strands of hair slipping through the gaps between his fingers. There were dozens in the din, and if he focused just enough, he could make out a single word from their senseless mutterings.
‘Mistress…’
A shiver ran down his spine as he summoned the Inferno. Got stared at by the Templars when the flames blazed alive. He shrugged it off and sucked in a deep breath. Even the Inferno’s coiling tongues weren’t enough to illuminate this place.
It did splash light over the walls, though. Walls riddled with writings, more like scratch marks clawed at their precious faces, half of them erased by what seemed like a passing storm. The other half got chipped away by the tips of dagger-like nails stabbed right into the syllables.
Old language, again, but written in a different form. I seem to remember seeing these exact symbols in some of Master Eldras’s collections.
The System called it Laran Language in this world, and there was an ‘Ancient’ word slapped beside it. He was also an ‘Ancient’ human and an ‘Ancient’ Arcane Healer, which seemed to be a way for the System to say he wasn’t entirely an alien to this world.
Or… It could be something else. There’s at least some common ground between the connected worlds. The language is the same, albeit they don’t look like they have a grip over the old speech. However, it makes no sense why they can’t understand this so-called Shadow’s speech if they can hear it.
Valens paused.
Captain Edric and others said shadows utter a bunch of nonsensical sounds when they speak, even if Selin’s words made perfect sense.
“Writings on the wall,” he said, lifting his chin up and gazing at the Templars with curiosity. He pointed at a side wall, at a broken mural with a few words recognizable underneath. “Can you read them?”
“What words?” Garran answered, slowing down and staring at the mural. He frowned. “You mean this? Some twisted lines and a bunch of claw marks. I’m guessing we’ll have a few Shriekers waiting for us ahead.”