Chapter Text
A numbing cold crept into him as his eyes clung to the image of that desolate ruin. Anyone sane would avoid heading its direction even just in thought. A place rarely spoken of - even less thought about. A damp gust of wind slipped into his collar, carrying the dread of many who had dared to face these halls only to turn tail or succumb early to its evil. Not many had made it out alive and those who did, soon faded into the madness which had attached to them within. It hadn’t been long that he had lost his own father to these halls. Said to harbour a crystal shard, Archduke Elwin saw perhaps a chance of their nation’s survival through the ever growing blight if he were to find said shard. Those who deemed themselves loyal and brave enough to join were welcomed, none of them were forced. Many had shied at the idea and yet his father had amounted six brave men to join his cause.
None of them but one sole warrior had made it out alive.
Emaciated and weak from his days spent in madness, the man limped out. Silenced by the insanity he must have faced inside the dungeon, the man spent four days without speaking a word before slicing his own throat. The remains must have looked so grim, the head of the castle ground keepers had the room sealed off. A foul odour would ooze out of the gap between wall and door, so much so, some staff avoided the hallway in its entirety. Things on court had changed since then…
‘‘He went in there… right?’’
He recalled Joshua looking up at him from between the pillows, trembling to hear the answer. Clive brushed some of his curls out of his face, a gentle hand thumbing his cheek.
‘‘He’ll be back. I know he will.’’
Adults would often use the dungeon as a place of warning, telling children gruesome tales in order to correct improper behaviour. Joshua however knew the truth about it. Clive had seen him peek his head from behind a heavy armour set which was displayed in the war room when they first discussed the matter of looking for the crystal shard. Perhaps the first mistake Clive had made was to allow Joshua to listen in secret. A heavy sigh rolled of his lips as he gave his brother’s hair one last ruffle before their nightly routine would come to an end.
‘‘Don’t think about it too much. It’s just stories.’’
… Just stories…
So he had told himself many years ago only to find himself at perhaps the same spot his father once stood in before the Empire of Sanbreque had invaded their lands.
Reality had hit him heavier than expected as he approached. A scent of wet decay wrapped around him as his feet - although a little reluctantly - carried him towards the heavy gates. Dubbed ‘the Dungeons of Fear&Hunger’, a once strong military hold now stood in solitude of a barren wasteland, the darkest pit the Twins had to offer. Its history shrouded in mystery and although linked to the royal family, no text or history book about the Rosfield family line would ever openly speak about it. In all those years Clive had witnessed, the gates to the fort had never been opened before. The process of gaining entrance to the dungeons had been quite the task, even for his father as the Archduke.
As he stepped up towards the gates the world went silent. A deafening silence had taken reign - the wind had stopped, the birds gone silent. As if the world had held its breath as he came to a halt. Even out here, the stench was almost unbearable, urging his insides to twitch together. It was the sight of a chocobo carcass which finally forced him to retch out loud. The dead bird was still attached to the cart it had been pulling, judging from its state of decay, a month ago. Chocobos had a strench of their own, only growing worse as they would rot.
Could that be?
As if someone had left mid-unloading , three barrels still stood atop the cart, the other heavy barrels lined each side of the entrance to the dungeon. Wet from the constant fog which came from the marches close to this place, the barrels looked as if they had just always been there. Just as Clive had moved on from the grotesque imagery of the slain bird, wondering how he would get inside, the sound of barking dogs in the distance rung through to him. As if lightning was about to strike, Clive could feel the electricity of the moment on his skin. While his mind wanted to continue thinking about how to open the heavy front gates, it was his instinct which had kept him alert. The barking approached rapidly. A rush of adrenaline washed over him as his eyes darted from the gate to the road he had just left behind. That horrid sound of bloodthirsty beasts was clearly coming close. Even though the barren wasteland surrounding this place was but an open field, he could not see anything approach in the distance. Were they heading his way? Hurried hands gripped the iron portcullis, not one, not two yanks upward would gain it any movement. Knowing better than to use up all his strength in such a situation, Clive quickly moved on from the idea of lifting it himself and instead focused on the shabby shed to the left of the fort. The sound of barking became clearer with each passing second and even thought Clive could not yet see them, he could feel their rabid energy. There was no time to lose. Staying close to the dungeon’s heavy stone walls, Clive ran towards the entrance of the shed, slipped inside and braced himself against its wooden door, praying it would not give in to the dogs’ force. Like the howling winds of a storm brought fourth by Garuda herself, Clive could feel the barks and snarls left and right. The door strained to remain shut as he further pressed against it to shield himself from bloodthirsty fangs in a desperate crouch.
‘‘Founder…’’ he found himself mutter under his breath, a silent prayer in dread.
Just as he thought the door might give way, the barking stopped. The eerie silence from before had once more won. The disbelief lingered heavy on his tongue. He remained still for but a moment longer, tried to listen closer if there was any sound on the other side of the door.
He was met with nothing but more of that deafening silence.
His heartbeat remained rapid for a moment longer, his breath hitched as he tried to regain his focus.
‘‘This can’t shake me. Not like that. ‘‘ he repeated to himself until he felt like his head could focus again. Between the foggy outside and the mildewed insides of the shed was barely any difference - both felt suffocating as they were in itself. The darkness inside the shed didn’t help. Once his heartbeat had fully gone back to normal, Clive tried to focus. With the aid of a small crystal he had stolen before he set off for this place he conjured a flame. Clive noticed it was weaker than usual and even though he couldn’t feel the aether like his little brother, he could feel that the crystal’s energy was weak. The small flame he had created floated like an ember behind him, gently illuminating its surrounding. The orange glow flickered and revealed only more rotting wood and debris around him. Everything was wet, moist wooden planks would slightly give in under his weight while the stone wall would sprout moss in irregular patches all across its surface. Buried behind a collapsed shelf he could make out what seemed to be an open door leading down a set of stairs. The smell of rot only worsened from there on. He tried to make no sound, urged by the silence around him, while he moved the wooden pieces to the side and slowly began his descend into a madness yet to be unveiled. If the gate won’t budge, perhaps he’d find another way inside.
The stairs were slippery to the point he had to dig his fingers into the rough edges between individual stones of the wall in order not to slip and fall.
The temperature dropped with every step, all warmth a clouded sun could produce devoured by this titan made of stone.
At the bottom of the stairs Clive reached a segment of the cellar, if this was used as a storage, perhaps there would be another way in. Although clearly underground, it was if he could feel a cool breeze tickling his ankles, a shudder creeping down his spine. Despite the lack of any signs of human life, these sombre halls felt far from empty as one might suggest at their desolate state. Bugs, thousands of little legs could be heard scattering in the darkness. If he dared to focus on them too much, it was as if he could feel them crawling over his skin. The path he had followed lead through a vaulted hall, yet again filled with barrels a plenty. He did not dare to take a peek as to what might be inside. These halls felt hostile in nature, better not to linger in the same spot if need not be. At the end of the hall his path forked into left and right. Whereas he spotted a strange door on the left, the path continued into a narrow hallway on the right. The door looked alien and out of place - heavy iron and yet shimmery smooth as if carved from obsidian. Crudely etched into its surface, it showed a bizarre interpretation of the Phoenix, its wings of flame unfurling across the entire door. Compared to the rot covering everything else in these halls, the door seemed clean and well maintained. It would not budge however and upon pressing his ear against it, Clive could hear an ominous chant coming from inside. As if someone whispered right into his ears, an eerie voice repeated the same thing over and over again.
"ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔬𝔰, 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔶."
Dread crept into him once more as he took a hurried step back. Nothing inside seemed to have stirred at his rattling at the door and even as he slowly began to march the other way, that eerie voice still echoed in the back of his head.
"ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔢. 𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔣𝔩𝔬𝔴."
Trying to remain unshaken by such strange occurrence Clive decided to head further down the narrow hallway which would soon open up into a broader section, arch after arch branching off into different segments of the basement on both sides of the wall. Where the stench of decay had accompanied him for a while now, the foul essence of this place changed once more and to his horror - the reason for that unfolded in front of his eyes without mercy. With each step he took, the small ember he had produced from the crystal unveiled more grotesquery. A heap of rotting corpses grew with every step closer he took. The urge to retch once more overcame him, a desperate plea for relief echoing through the darkness. He had seen corpses before. Plenty of them and in all different states of decay. Sanbreque had taught him the cruelty of war. He knew what a human’s insides looked like - had seen it himself at the whim of his own blade. He had killed before and yet something about how the pile of corpses reminded him of swarming insects eager to devour whatever came its way settled a feeling of unease in the very pit of his stomach. Clive had also fought many vile creatures before and yet he was left to stare in terror as something among the corpses began to move. From between the ghastly bodies, pale and limp, lifted a deformed glob of flesh, a display of mockery for the human kind. It flashed an eerie smile as it lifted higher and higher, bit by bit unveiling its many appendages which hung limp from where they sprouted from its body. Silently it hovered above the dead, looking at him like a dog interrupted mid-meal. Sword in hand, Clive shied not from a fight even if his opponent could send a warrior running by its looks alone. The beast moved slow, a sluggish sack of dead and deformed meat slowly approaching as Clive lifted his weapon. He knew not to rush, rather wait and observe at first at his enemy’s pace. It’s tentacle-like appendages made a wet sound as they smashed together during its approach, causing the hair in the back of his neck to stand from disdain towards its appearance. Once at a proper distance, it began flailing its limbs, each movement gaining it some momentum. It’s movements seemed uncontrolled, unable to land a focused hit on him but eventually it would use that as distraction for its actual attack. Launching at him, the root of its limbs revealed a sharp stinger. It only managed to scratch the surface of his skin, the severity of its hit dampened by Clive’s shabby armour. He seized the opportunity of the moment and sliced the beast apart, a deep gash splitting its horrid grin in two as it fell to the ground. Its body wilted as white worms began to crawl in every direction. Out of disgust Clive took a step back to watch them vanish between the cracks of the floor. Just as quickly as it had appeared, almost no trace of it was left. He spit at the mark it had left on the ground, a muttered curse slipping over his lips under his breath.
‘‘I’ll get you out of here, I promise.’’
Everything that followed within the basement section of these halls were more rotting bodies strewn across. Left and right, the stench indescribable. In the distance Clive would see more of those creatures, slowly feasting on death and rot and if he kept his distance, they would not pay further attention to him. It were the dead they seem to crave, not the living. Worry hung upon him, lingering in the pit of his stomach heavily - did Joshua have to face these as well?
Eventually, another set of stairs would lead to another section of the dungeon, from its looks he had reached the cells which would harbour prisoners of the worst kind. To be left to rot in these dungeons was easily the harshest punishment one could face for their crime. Only few were wicked enough to endure staying here for prolonged time, managing the incarcerated and guarding this place. Wit each step Clive took, the question weather those who guarded this places shielded it from outside intruders or the people outside from whatever greater terror was within those walls, grew bigger. The prison block lacked the scent of rot, instead it was the scent of iro n lingering around these halls. The flame he had conjured seemed weaker now as the aether around him waned until eventually his fire light died. Unable to reignite it, it seemed as if something inside the dungeon was actively blocking him. Or perhaps the crystal had finally run out of magic. Another hushed curse escaped his lips as he gave up. Frustrated, his irritation reflected on his face. In the distance he could make out the shine of a weak torch, if he were to grab it, perhaps it would make navigating this place easier.
The floor beneath his feet had changed, hard stone replaced with an iron grid, seemingly hanging in the air. Upon dropping a piece of chipped stone into the darkness beneath, he could only guess as to how deep the pit was by the distant sound.
Where he had left the initial terrors of the basement behind only new ones would wait for him here. It took not long for him to reach a row of cells along the wall. Each cell a cramped space with the same iron grid floors and heavy barred fronts. He couldn’t make out much due to the lack of light but as he passed some of those cells he could hear weak whimpers and frightened sighs. He knew better than to ask, steadfast marching on towards the source of dim light. The sound of heavy footsteps in the distance left him to reevaluate that perhaps in this space, the darkness could aid him in staying unnoticed. Not much was known as to who or what was guarding this space but Clive was sure he could do without encountering them.
A faintly rattling voice came to him through the depths of the dark, the sound of something wet being dragged along the floor.
‘‘…lp… h…’’
The distant flame had been close enough by now to shed some light to his surroundings yet he wasn’t prepared for the sudden hand which reached for him from within a cell. Covered in cuts and bruises, the skin sickly green. It reminded him of dead bodies eaten by decay one could find if wandering through the wrong spots of the marches. Bent and broken fingers spread in a grabbing motion, chipped nails long and sharp on those which didn’t lack nails to begin with.
‘‘-ill… p-’’ - came the wet gargles of a desperate voice.
Although weak in appearance, the grip of the hand around his ankle was surprisingly strong, demanding quite the force to shake it off.
‘‘k… m…pl…’’
Only now could Clive make out the shaken silhouette of a ghoul. Pieces of its skin were missing, some rotted off or eaten away by rodents and bugs. Milky eyes, one still in its socket, the other hanging from what one could only assume had been a socket before. It was a painful stab to his chest - despite its decomposed state, what was left of the body resembled-
‘‘Cl..ive..’’
Through the wet sobs its throat made involuntarily, the voice he could make out was similar to their former Lord Commander.
‘‘Sir Murdoch?!’’ the realisation dawned on him.
What was left of him was but a husk missing its lower half. A mere torso, his existence warped by endless suffering. How could it be? Certainly this place played a trick on him. It simply couldn’t- Yet upon hearing its name, the creature tried to reach for him once more. The strain speaking caused it was visible, once more collecting strength to utter its plea.
‘‘… kill me… please…’’
How could this be? It’s been over ten years-
It must be a trick!
think…think! THINK!
His action stemmed more so from blind frustration than an act of mercy, drawing his sword he drove its blade into the creature. More wet sounds escaped it as Clive’s blade kept crashing down on it over and over again until eventually all that was left was an unrecognizable pulp of human flesh. Unexpected rage flamed within him, the urge to scream lingering behind gritted teeth. His jaw felt tense even after his blade had come to a halt upon hitting something hard. Still in a numb trance from felling the creature, Clive reached for the piece of resistance and upon wiping bloody remains off of it he was faced with the Lord Commander’s badge of honour which had been granted to him many years ago. Clive once more felt a sharp frustration push against his sternum. He did not notice the tears in the corner of his eyes.
What a sick joke.
All this vulgarity aside, Clive could not lose any more time. He could not quite grasp how much time had already passed since he had entered these halls but he knew he had to press on. If he wanted to-
No he had to.
There was no other option.
Perhaps it was because his involuntary stay in Sanbreque had blackened his heart that he could accept whatever twisted things this place would throw at him but for now he had only one thing in mind.
Onward.