Episode 3 Part 3 Sneak Peek #16

Today's sneak peek contains major spoilers and background lore for a possible route in Episode 3. As always,. there are variations in how this can go. The MC here has the Child of the Fields background and a high relationship with Aeran. 

Up ahead, Aeran’s pace slows to a crawl, his boots scraping against the blackened floor. The wood here holds thankfully, though you can’t help but notice how a streak of scorch marks drag down the centre. Almost as if something burning was dragged through here. He treads to a stop several feet from the last staircase, his back to you. His head bows, his shoulders sag.

For all his determination to reach the final floor, something is stopping him. Something he can’t work through.

“I told you I’ve been to Sunderfell,” he says quietly, his voice raw.

You pause, folding your arms. His words are slow, cautious—as if he knows by speaking them there is no going back. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t tell you why or what we saw there.”

You nod silently, though you know he cannot see. He exhales a long sigh, bowing his head, and looks over his shoulder. His eyes—glowing in the torchlight—find yours.

“I was on contract a few years back,” he begins. “Cohort of scholars from Nesactium had set out to investigate the fortress. Needed a magianis in their ranks, someone to bypass the magical corruption soaked into the land. A Wayfarer would do, and they paid well.”

You pause. It’s been years since you’ve returned to your homeland, but as you recall, Nesactium’s academies were never noteworthy. Then again, you’re not from the city, you’re from the farmland. The academies were never noteworthy. Not compared to the likes of Arathia and Vestra—

Stop it, $firstname. Seeding this shadow of doubt will not help. Besides, you dare not interrupt his story now—not when you know he is telling you this because he trusts you. To pelt him with nitpicky questions and demand more details before he is finished would only show that you don’t trust him.

And you do. You have to. You made your choice.

“Can’t blame you,” you say. “There are a lot of things we do for money.”

He chuckles—the sound short and hollow, dying quickly. His back remains to you, as if he can’t bring himself to look you in the eye. You’ve never seen him so… stuck. Not wanting to move forwards, but unable to go back. He has started something by telling you this, and he can’t take it back now.

It’s a moment before he speaks again.

“Sunderfell isn’t like Diradan,” he says. “By all accounts, it’s older. Bigger. The size of a city built into the side of the mountain. It’s been derelict for a millennia. The land there is dead. Grey. I can’t describe it, $firstname, but if you saw it…” The words are a struggle. “Our… guild, if you can call them that, struggled at first. They sent me to scout while they established a camp and ran their tests. They had wards, you see. Ones that they hoped would protect them.”

“And did they?”

“For a time, yes. New magic. Experimental. But it held.” He pauses, still fighting with himself. You wonder how long he has held this tongue about this. If you are the first person he has told it to. “Sunderfell is a labyrinth, $firstname. That day we breached the perimeter and headed into the mountain, Corridors and corridors carved into the rock. I make it sound primitive, but it’s anything but. In a restored state it would put even Mahanin Palace to shame.

“Those halls were… We were cocky. Headstrong. The guild concluded that while under the protection of their wards, there was nothing to be afraid of there. So we climbed, heading for the central tower where they suspected they would find the answers they sought. We didn’t know what we would unearth.”

You pause. “Something like the shroud?” you press.

He nods. “A… being, I suppose. There’s no other word for it. It flooded the central chambers, clouding them. We couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel anything. Lost in the dark. Some panicked and ran, never to be seen again. Others… they showed us exactly what happens if there are fault lines in your ward. Ripped to shreds the moment their magic failed.” He swallows. “Some leapt off the tower. Whether they were driven mad or simply wanted to choose the manner of their death, I don’t know. But regardless, it was a massacre.”

“And you escaped?”

“I survived.”