Chapter B4C51 - Walk in the Dark
Tyron took one last glance behind him at the Jorlin manor. There was little he could do to fully conceal his presence there. The signs of the Abyss, the ritual magick he’d performed, and the stench of death magick would remain, hanging thick in the air for any mage to find. The better ones might even be able to discern the types of spells he’d used in the fighting, at least in a general sense.
But there were no witnesses remaining, none that remained alive, at any rate.
He’d gathered up and stored every spirit he could find, but something had happened which he hadn’t quite expected. Some of the souls, notably, those of the noble descendants, though not all of them, had vanished after he’d killed them. It appeared the idea that a heaven of some sorts may actually exist for the followers of The Five Divines may actually be true. Those souls had gone somewhere, and he doubted they’d been able to cross over to the realm of the dead so quickly.
It had been grating to miss out on those spirits, but he had the ones he’d really wanted, and more than enough to pay his tolls.
The skeletons had been stored away safely in the Ossuary, though it was a good thing they didn’t care too much about being comfortable, along with all the materials he could bring with him. It was time to go. He turned back to face forward and, just as the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, Tyron stepped through the whispering hole in the Veil and vanished from his home realm.
The moment he was through, he ended the ritual and allowed the entrance to close behind him, leaving himself surrounded by the endless dark.
Creatures of the Abyss already surrounded him, their whispers tugging at the threads of his sanity, trying to pick them loose and worm themselves into the gaps. He could understand them so much better now, but he wasn’t sure that it helped. The secrets they offered were dark, twisted things, knowledge that mortals were not meant to possess. If he allowed himself to listen, to be tempted by what they offered, they would infect him with their madness that way, and claim him all the same.
Extending a hand before him, Tyron ignited a globe of unlight, and the voices retreated, unwilling to be touched by its rays. It didn’t illuminate much, if that was even the right word, but it showed enough that Tyron had finally realised the Abyss was not nearly as empty as it first appeared. He didn’t understand this place as much as he would have liked, he was always short on time. It was his most precious resource by a considerable distance.
Studying the Abyss and trying to extract, safely, whatever was useful to him could have been the pursuit of a lifetime, decades at the least, but that was time he couldn’t afford.