The Cursed Conch

Part 3

As the twilight waned, the soldiers appeared from the forest’s shadowy embrace, like specters heralding doom. A demon, cloaked in the guise of a man, came forth to slay the solitary figure who dared to confront the approaching darkness. Thelbe Jack, with eyes wide and heart pounding, searched the desolate battlefield for an ally, a friend, anyone. Yet, he was truly and utterly alone. His voice rose in a scream, a desperate plea to the heavens, but it was not his voice that tore through the silence. Instead, it was the blood-curdling shriek of his mother, echoing from the past as she fell under the merciless blade of Captain Voss of the Red Army. That harrowing sound had haunted Thelbe’s dreams, and now, it was his grim chorus.

Paralyzed, Thelbe stood as memories flooded back, unbidden and cruel. He was a child again, hidden and helpless, as the Butcher—aptly named for the gruesome work he performed—dismembered his family with methodical savagery. Thelbe, concealed within a wooden coffin of a box, held his breath, praying to be spared from the carnage that unfolded before his young eyes. The Butcher’s laughter, a sound devoid of joy and full of malice, resonated in Thelbe’s mind, a relentless echo that threatened to shatter his resolve. Now, as the soldiers closed in, their armor clinking like the chimes of fate, Thelbe knew he faced more than just men; he faced the phantoms of his shattered past, and this time, he could not hide. He could only stand and fight or fall and join the ghosts that haunted him. Thelbe Jack, his name a whisper on the wind, prepared to meet his destiny, not as the frightened boy in the box, but as the man who would defy demons, both real and remembered. The battle was upon him, and with it, the chance to silence the screams that had tormented him for far too long.

Thelbe sat up quickly, gasping for air. His heart was racing, and his forehead was damp with sweat. He looked around, trying to calm his racing heart, but the room he was in was strange and unfamiliar. He was lying on a bed made of twisted wood, with a mattress filled with soft feathers and supported by springs. He threw the silver blankets to the floor and noticed he was wearing silver silk robes. “What in the world?” he said out loud. He swung his legs off the bed and sat there, taking in the room. The floor and walls were made of stone, as if they had been cut from a cliff. Across from Thelbe was a large window that showed the beautiful morning sky, which seemed to be moving. Tapestries that told stories of fierce battles hung in the air, floating as if held by invisible hands, their edges moving gently as if touched by a breeze.

In this chamber, where the air itself seemed woven with enchantment, talismans of ancient power hovered in a serene dance. They turned ever so gently, their polished stone and gleaming metal facets catching stray beams of light, casting a kaleidoscope of colors upon the stone walls. These talismans, symbols of protection and strength, were more than mere adornments; they were silent sentinels, each charged with potent spells murmuring promises of safety and sanctuary.

Thelbe, still reeling from the remnants of his nightmare, could sense the magic’s presence, almost tangible, like a comforting hand upon his shoulder. At the chamber’s center stood a perch, a proud testament to the venerable tree from which it was hewn. It rose from the stone floor, not merely as a piece of furniture but as a throne fit for a warrior of renown, its surface adorned with runes that glowed with a warm, golden luminescence. The ambiance was indeed bewitching, a stark contrast to the terrors that had plagued his sleep. The room was bathed in the soft light of magical orbs that floated with an elegant grace, their glow gentle and soothing, banishing shadows and fears alike.

a smoky ribbon that curls and twists before vanishing into nothingness, filled the roof of the room. It brought a fragrance that was both grounding and invigorating, it filled the room with a scent that was rich and earthy, like the best parts of a forest combined. A gentle breeze circulated through the chamber with it carries a crispness of high altitudes. As Thelbe foot touched the cold floor he was overcome with the awe and magic of the room, he didn't even notice the presence of the person standing behind the bed as a guardian. Standing there like a sentinel, was a harpy Thelbe had never seen. Her silhouette was framed by the magical orbs that provided a soft illumination. Her wings folded behind her, the feathers blending into the shadows of the room.

“A nightmare, Thelbe?” Agnus’s voice was firm, cutting through the stillness with an authoritative edge. Her amber eyes held a glint of empathy as she regarded him. “Rest assured, you are in a place of safety.” “Who are you” Thelbe asked, he was surprised at how little concern he felt for himself. It was as if he knew inside that he was safe. “I am Agnus,” she declared, her presence as commanding as any general’s. “I stand with Toby.” Thelbe felt a little drowsy, the memories coming back to him. “Is he okay, the sun soldiers, what happened” the last thing Thelbe remembered was passing out as the guards ran towards them. They were sold out by that ugly driver, he thought.

“Toby suspects you’ve partaken of one of his confections,” Agnus began, her voice carrying a note of dry amusement. “A special blend he infuses with tranquilizers to lull his targets into slumber.” Thelbe’s face contorted into a grimace as the memory of the sweet caramel dissolving on his tongue surged forward. “Yes, that sounds about right,” he conceded, a rueful chuckle escaping him despite the situation. “And Toby? Where might he be now?”

“I believe he’s at the helm, steering us onward,” Agnus replied, her tone shifting to one of practicality. “Should you feel ready, we can escort you to quarters of your own.” She glided across the chamber to her perch and pressed a rune that pulsed with light and vibrated with a low hum. Leaning close, she spoke into it, “Toby, the boy has awakened.” Thelbe noted the stark contrast in her voice when addressing the elf—sharp, almost biting. It was then that the room began to decelerate, a revelation that caught him off guard; he hadn’t perceived their motion until that moment. “Come,” Agnus commanded, her voice brooking no argument as she strode toward a wooden door, an anomaly amidst the chamber’s stony embrace. Thelbe hastened over, the chill of the stone floor beneath his bare feet urging him to move swiftly. Agnus reached for the door, pulling it open to let the soft glow of the evening sun spill into the room. As Thelbe stepped through the doorway and onto the earthen ground, he paused to glance back in astonishment. The grand chamber he had just vacated was a mere wooden carriage.

“Thelbe, my boy, you’re alive!” The words, sung in a familiar, melodious voice, floated to him from down the row of carriages. There were five in total, Thelbe noted, as Toby approached with a spring in his step, his face alight with relief. Without warning, the elf enveloped Thelbe in a warm, heartfelt embrace. “I was so worried,” Toby confessed, his voice thick with emotion, on the verge of tears. With a gentle urgency, Thelbe extricated himself from the embrace. “I’m fine, Toby, really,” he assured, his smile a silent testament to his resilience. Toby mirrored the gesture, his own smile breaking through the concern. “Come on, I spent like 45 minutes preparing your carriage. I think you’re going to love it,” Toby’s voice crescendoed with excitement as he ushered Thelbe down the line of vehicles. “Goodbye, Thelbe,” Agnus called out, her figure framed by the doorway of her carriage, a stoic sentinel bidding a solemn farewell.

Toby’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he led Thelbe Jack towards what appeared to be a modest, vine-entwined carriage. “Prepare yourself for a marvel, my friend,” he said, his voice a low hum of excitement. Thelbe, ever the skeptic, raised an eyebrow but followed, nonetheless. The moment he stepped inside, his world expanded. His gasp was lost in the vastness of the room. Toby smiled brightly “I call this room the Enigmatic Expanse.” The space was stretched beyond the bounds of possibility. “Holy hells,” Thelbe whispered, his gaze sweeping over the grand interior that unfolded before him. Toby chuckled, a sound that echoed off the walls that weren’t supposed to exist. “Welcome to your new abode, Jack. The Elderwood exterior is but a facade. These runes,” he gestured to the glowing symbols, “they bend space, crafting a home fit for a wanderer of your caliber.”

Thelbe tentatively touched the Moonweave Cloth of the Resting Quarters, marveling at its responsiveness. “A bed that heals?” he mused. “More than that,” Toby said, leading him to the Artificer’s Workshop. “Here, you can forge magic into your cane, imbue artifacts with power untold. And the Vault,” he pointed to a door lined with Nullstone, “will hold your cursed treasures safe from prying eyes and grasping hands.” The Wise Wisp flickered into view, its form, a dancing light that bowed to Thelbe. “And this sentient spirit will heed your call, manage the carriages’ magics, and ensure your safety, yada, yada, yada.” Thelbe turned a full circle, taking in the adaptive architecture, the arcane console, the sheer impossibility of it all. “Toby, this… this is a sanctuary.”

“Yeah,” Toby agreed, a proud glint in his eye. “Your sanctuary, Thelbe Jack. May it serve you well on the journeys ahead. Now get to work we have but a few days before we reach Noctum Hallow.” Thelbe nodded, eager to explore his new home. “Wait,” Thelbe said as toby walked towards the door, the elf turned to face him, “This doesn't mean I like you guys, just for the record.” Toby just smiled before he walked out the door.

A few day later.

Toby reined in the carriage a short distance from Noctum Hallow’s gates. Thelbe, Toby, and Agnus had been joined by a diminutive, yet brawny goblin known as Spike. The goblin, with skin the color of fresh spring leaves, extended a hand to Thelbe, his sharp-toothed grin gleaming in the dim light. As Thelbe reached out in response, Toby swiftly intercepted, pulling Thelbe’s wrist back. “I wouldn’t recommend that. Spike often overlooks his own might,” Toby remarked casually, securing his satchel over his dark green robes. “How do I look?” Toby beamed, arms aloft to display his attire. “Like an idiot,” Agnus commented dryly, striding past Toby toward the town. Thelbe’s gaze lingered on the goblin, whose broad, flat nose twitched as he retracted his hand. “Spike's the name, bashin' is the game. You got a prob with that, you say it to me face,” the goblin declared, his voice a low rumble.

As they trailed behind Agnus through the verdant forest path, Thelbe couldn’t help but be drawn to the formidable hammer that Spike brandished. The weapon was a masterpiece of ancient craftsmanship, its surface etched with runes that pulsed with the echoes of olden magic. Spike’s skin was a canvas of intricate tattoos, a tapestry of symbols alien to Thelbe’s eyes, that adorned his robust chest and arms, snaking up to frame his face in patterns of power and protection.

A necklace of bones, each piece a testament to battles won and foes vanquished, hung heavily around Spike’s neck. His garb was simple yet functional: a pair of brown shorts, cinched at the waist by a belt whose buckle was a well-polished golden skull. His limbs were fortified with leather bracers and shin guards, each studded with metal that gleamed with the promise of battle. At a subtle sound, Spike’s ears perked up, he whipped his head around, locking eyes with Thelbe for a fleeting moment before Thelbe, feeling the weight of that gaze, averted his own.

The sound of rushing water soon disrupted Thelbe’s thoughts as they neared the Lake of Night. “All this water,” Toby explained, gesturing towards the expansive lake where a massive waterfall cascaded onto its surface, “originates from the Gold Dragon, the kingdom’s eastern river.” Thelbe looked at the small stream leading further into the forest away from the lake. “That runoff from here continues downstream until it meets the sea, but the waterfall,” Toby redirected Thelbe’s gaze toward the water falling from the large cliff that stood before them, “hides the cave entrance that leads down to Noctum Hallow.” Thelbe felt a sense of wonder for the place; it held a natural beauty. The sound of the water crashing down was almost deafening as the band of misfits walked behind the waterfall and into the small clearing it hide.

“Wait,” Agnus commanded, her voice slicing through the murmur of conversation barely audible over the waterfall’s roar. “I thought you said it wasn’t guarded,” she accused, her gaze piercing Toby.

“Ah, I see the confusion,” Toby admitted with an embarrassed smirk. “I said it shouldn’t be guarded.”

“That’s okay. Spike will go bonk them,” the goblin announced, stepping forward with determination. But Agnus placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “We can’t afford to draw attention—not yet,” she said, casting a meaningful glance at Thelbe. “We must wait for Thelbe to infiltrate the spire.”

“So, what’s our move?” Spike inquired, turning to Toby with a mix of impatience and anticipation.

Thelbe tuned out the bickering behind him and stole a glance around the corner, where the entrance loomed. Guarded by two dark elves, their stern watch was contrasted by three dwarves who swayed, clearly having indulged in too much ale. “Was there a celebration today?” Thelbe whispered behind them to the arguing trio. Toby’s hand met his forehead with a thud as Spike piped up, a slow grin spreading across his face. “When the moon gets all big and round, the under-folk throw a big bash,” he said, scratching his head. “And the wobbly ones,” he continued, pointing to the tipsy dwarves, “they’re easy pickings for a bit of fun.” Thelbe mind was spinning with an idea as he reached into his bag and searched for an item. Thelbe’s mind raced with a plan as he rummaged through his bag. “Toby,” he said, producing a conch shell, “I’ve got an idea.” He distributed tiny salt cubes to his companions. “Pop these in your mouths when the music begins.”

At the mere whisper of music, Toby’s ears perked, and his gaze lifted, alight with intrigue. “Music?” he echoed, a spark igniting within. Thelbe nodded, his voice a low hum. “Indeed. Do you still have your flute?” With a solemn nod, Toby extended the wooden flute, its surface worn smooth by countless tunes. He then cradled his lute close, fingers dancing over the strings in anticipation. A sly grin unfurled across his face, betraying his eagerness. “I stand prepared,” he announced, his voice eager.

Side by side, the duo appeared from their rocky corner. Thelbe raised the flute to his lips, coaxing forth a singular, piercing note that cut through the silence. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he bellowed, his voice booming across the open expanse, “I present to you the unparalleled, the incomparable—Mister Smooth Soul Thomas!” The name, plucked from the ether of his imagination, hung in the air as if it had always belonged. Without a moment’s hesitation, Toby’s fingers began their dance, the lute’s strings humming beneath his touch, weaving a tapestry of sound that enveloped all who listened.

“In the glow of the moon's soft caress,

Through the whispering leaves, we confess,

We're but minstrels with tunes to profess,

With our lutes and our flutes, we'll impress.”

The guards’ faces softened, lines of concentration giving way to raised eyebrows and half-smiles. Where they once surveyed the crowd for signs of mischief, they now seemed entranced by the duo’s unexpected melody. The rhythm and chords of the impromptu performance seemed to weave a spell over them, drawing them nearer. They shifted from their rigid stances to a more relaxed lean, captivated by the serenade that unfolded before them.

“Our songs weave tales of wonder and glee,

Of enchanted forests and the deep blue sea,

With each strum, we set imaginations free,

Guardians of dreams, dancing merrily.”

Toby belted the song from the depths of his stomach, as he jumped gracefully onto a rock to gain elevation. The dwarves moved close, and the guards bobbed their heads. “Do we have any Brave warriors in the crowd tonight,” Thelbe yelled offering a smile. A dwarf was pushed forward by his friends, his nose red from the booze, he happily rushed forward.

“But beware the fox with silver tongue,

His mischief is woven, his secrets sung,

Yet in innocence, our hearts are wrung,

As we dance to the tune of the moon among.”

Toby sang with all his might, Thelbe questioned whether it was for the show or if toby just enjoyed preforming that much. As the man with the chestnut locks neared Thelbe, he extended his hand for the conch. The shell, dark and glossy as if woven from night itself, bore marks and dents telling tales of countless storms at sea, But the dwarf was all too happy to play along.

“So, listen close, dear guards of night,

To the ballad of stars shining bright,

We sing for thee till morning light,

And with the conch's call, I bid thee take flight.”

Thelbe popped a cube of salt into his mouth just as the dwarf began to play the shell. A somber, haunting note echoed, flat and melancholy. Almost instantly, a mist started to curl within the cavern. Thelbe dashed toward Toby, as a swirling fog rose around their ankles. Toby, mesmerized by the unfolding magic, clutched his own salt cube, momentarily oblivious to its presence. Thelbe, quick to act, thrust a cube into Toby’s mouth amidst the thickening fog. “Let’s go!” Thelbe shouted, urging his allies forward. Miraculously, the fog parted around them, as if pushed away by the salt’s power. Together, they plunged into the shadowy maw, leaving behind the guards who tried to cry out, their voices swallowed by the eerie silence of the mist.

“What happened?” Toby asked as they ventured deeper into the cave. Thelbe’s reply was chilling. “The mist took their voices; the fog blinded them.” He paused before continuing, “There’s an old tale of sailors trying to reach the sea god Nereus. Instead of confronting them, Nereus crafted a horn. When he blew into it, the sailors were blinded and lost at sea. Overwhelmed by guilt for the lives lost, he cast the horn into the ocean depths. While many searched for a literal horn, some believed it was actually a shell. That’s what I found in the vault,” Thelbe concluded as they approached the tunnel’s end and got there first Glimpse of Noctum Hallow.

As their eyes adjusted to the dim glow, the heroes beheld the heart of the enclave: Toby called it, Gloomward Square, a plaza carved from the living rock and lit by the ethereal shimmer of bioluminescent flora. Homes and towers spiraled upwards, clinging to the cave walls like ivy. The architecture was a testament to the dark elves’ mastery over their environment—sharp angles and smooth surfaces adorned with intricate web-like patterns. The air was alive with the soft hum of whispered deals and the distant clang of forges that the elf said could only come from the Crafters’ Crevice.

Thelbe tried to take it all in as they walked through the city their hoods up to remain inconspicuous, but the city was too much. They walked through what Toby labeled The Silken Bazaar, bustled with cloaked figures, its stalls brimming with arcane trinkets and rare fungi. Overhead, bridges of spider silk and crystal spanned the chasm, connecting the city in a delicate dance of beauty and practicality. As they reached the city’s core thelbe gasped at the Arachnid Sanctum, “a cathedral dedicated to the “Former” queen” Toby said with air quotes, however Thelbe wasn’t sure what he meant. Its ceiling was a vast web that vibrated with the chants of priestesses. The Feydark Garden offered a rare glimpse of greenery, its twisted trees and black roses a stark contrast to the stone around them.

Then, towering above all, was Velkin’s Spire, a monument to the ruler’s might and the prison to the artifacts the Coalition were after. Its presence was both revered and feared, a reminder of the power that held Noctum Hallow in its grasp. The band of misfits stood at the edge of the Voidheart Nexus. It was here, amidst the grandeur and the shadows, that their quest would unfold. Noctum Hallow was breathing around them, its pulse slow and deliberate, a city of veiled shadows and whispered secrets. They knew that every step they took was watched, every breath they drew was measured. They reached a large pipeline large enough for Thelbe to walk through, the bars on the entrance were quickly broken off by Spike who tossed the metal bars off a cliff into the dark empty abyss that lay below. Thelbe looked at Toby, who smiled before saying “It's showtime.”