Chapter 16: The Blood Marsh
The marsh swallowed them whole.
Thick mist curled between the roots of twisted trees, their bark blackened as though burned. The air was heavy, clinging to their lungs with every breath. Each step Lucien took sank into mud that oozed crimson, as if the land itself bled beneath their boots.
The hum of the hymn was louder here, a constant thrum beneath the silence. It vibrated through Lucien's bones, resonating with Requiem. The runes on the blade glowed faintly, answering the call of the marsh.
Liora's hand never left her sword. Her eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, her posture tense. "This place isn't natural. It feels… alive."
"It is," Lucien muttered. He could feel it—the land itself pulsing, watching. The hymn wasn't just sound anymore. It was heartbeat, bloodflow, thought.
---
They moved cautiously, following the faint glow deeper into the mire. Strange shapes loomed in the mist: statues half-buried in the mud, their stone faces twisted in agony. Some were missing arms. Others had mouths open in silent screams.
"Not statues," Lucien said grimly, crouching by one. His fingers brushed the surface—it wasn't stone. It was flesh, hardened and cold, like the petrified victims in Aranthor.
Liora's grip on her weapon tightened. "Then the hymn reached here too."
Lucien straightened, scanning the shadows. "No. This began here."
The ground trembled faintly beneath their feet, a pulse that matched the rhythm of the hymn.
---
Hours passed as they pushed deeper. The crimson mist thickened, stinging their eyes and burning their throats. Once, Lucien swore he saw a figure in the fog—a woman draped in red, her face hidden by a veil. But when he blinked, she was gone.
"Lucien." Liora's voice was sharp. She pointed ahead.
Through the mist, a structure loomed: a mound of twisted roots and bone, rising like a shrine. Crimson light seeped from cracks between the roots, pulsing like a beating heart. The hymn emanated from it, every note pressing into Lucien's skull.
The voice inside him purred. "Ah… the Second Verse."
Lucien's jaw clenched. His fingers wrapped tight around Requiem. "That's it."
They approached cautiously. The roots shifted as they neared, groaning like old wood. At the shrine's center was a hollow chamber—and within it, an orb of pulsating crimson light, suspended by chains of bone.
The hymn roared at the sight of them.
The ground exploded.
---
From the swamp erupted figures—twisted creatures of mud and blood, shaped like men but wrong. Their limbs bent at impossible angles, their faces featureless save for gaping mouths that screamed in harmony with the hymn.
Liora drew her sword. "Here we go!"
Lucien surged forward, Requiem blazing crimson as he swung. The blade cleaved through the first creature, its body bursting into mist. But three more rose to take its place, their clawed hands reaching for him.
The hymn inside his head grew louder, urging him: "Strike faster. Feed the verse. Add them to the choir."
"No!" Lucien roared, slashing again. Energy tore through the creatures, scattering them like ash.
Liora fought beside him, her blade flashing, cutting down the horrors that lunged from the mire. But for every one they struck down, two more rose.
"They're endless!" she shouted.
Lucien's eyes burned crimson. "Then we cut the source."
---
He charged the shrine, cutting a path through the swarm. The orb pulsed violently as he neared, the hymn screaming in his skull. His knees buckled under the weight of it, but he forced himself onward.
The creatures lunged to stop him, but Liora intercepted, holding them back with sheer determination. "Go, Lucien!"
He leapt into the chamber, Requiem raised high. The runes on the blade glowed in resonance with the orb. For a moment, he hesitated—the blade wanted this. It hungered for it.
The voice whispered, delighted. "Strike, child. Claim the Second Verse. Let the song complete itself through you."
Lucien's teeth clenched. His arms trembled. Was he choosing this—or was the sword?
The orb pulsed harder, veins of light spreading through the roots, through the marsh itself. The creatures screamed louder, their movements frantic.
Liora's cry cut through the chaos. "Lucien! Now!"
He brought the blade down.
---
Requiem met the orb with a blinding flash. The impact shook the marsh, crimson light bursting outward in a wave. The creatures shrieked, their bodies collapsing into formless sludge. The roots writhed violently, snapping and tearing as the shrine began to collapse.
Lucien was thrown back, hitting the mud hard. His ears rang, his vision blurred. When the light faded, the orb was gone. In its place, a shard of blackened crystal lay embedded in the muck, pulsing faintly.
The voice in his head laughed. "The Second Verse is yours. Another step toward the finale."
Lucien staggered to his feet, glaring at the shard. Every instinct told him to pick it up. His hand moved toward it before he realized.
"Lucien." Liora's voice was sharp. She stood at the chamber's edge, her sword still drawn. "Don't."
He froze, his hand inches from the shard. His breath came in ragged bursts. The shard pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
"…We can't leave it," he said, voice strained. "If someone else finds it—"
"Then destroy it," Liora said firmly.
The voice hissed, furious. "Destroy it and you destroy yourself. It is already part of you."
Lucien's fingers curled into a fist. He raised Requiem again, hesitating between striking and seizing.
Liora's eyes locked on his. "Lucien. Choose."
---
The marsh trembled, the hymn echoing faintly in the distance, as if waiting for his decision.
Lucien's grip tightened. His mind was a battlefield, the blade's hunger pulling one way, his will the other. For a heartbeat, he swore he heard Liora's voice cut through the storm inside him—not her words now, but her trust.
With a roar, Lucien brought Requiem down—shattering the shard.
The hymn screamed. The marsh convulsed, crimson mist scattering like smoke in the wind. Silence followed, heavy and absolute.
Lucien dropped to one knee, gasping. His veins burned, his body trembling from the backlash. The sword pulsed in his grip, almost… resentful.
Liora hurried to his side, steadying him. "You did it."
Lucien stared at the broken shard, then at the blade. "For now."
Above them, the storm clouds shifted. For the first time since Aranthor's fall, the crimson rain lessened, thinning into a faint drizzle.
But Lucien knew better. This wasn't the end. The hymn wasn't silenced—just muted. And somewhere, the masked figure was still watching.