Year 765 The Storm Crawler Charge

Connor never explains the not permanent topical blue artwork on his skin. Right now, this man no longer acts like her husband, but a presence simply focusses on one thing: The Trail Artifact.

Rhea tries to keep her concerns to herself, expecting he will not listen right now. The couple traverse through the ruins for some time, even so much that Rhea had to use a ball of fire as their light source. The length of this place is not the issue; it is searching for the way down. After a millennium of breathes the entryways were blocked with rubble or destroyed to the point it would not be safe to travel through.

One more blocked entryway and Connor inspect it as if he could do anything about it. He peeks her way with a shake of his head, showing the obvious.

At this point there is only one way and its back where they started. Rhea nearly groans thinking about retracing their steps being beyond exhausting for her. Maybe we should go back to the ship.

With that thought, a burst of heat caresses her backside. She whips her face towards it, with the stifling air came a sense she fears the most. Lava.

Despite the better instinct to run, she follows the draft in silence. Connor just follows as her stern shadow.

The heat led her to an opening in the floor; her waver was enough for Connor to continue down it. She wants to reel him back, but she knew he wouldn't listen. The heat reminds her of that horrible day that her head throbs even more, despite that she tails her captain. The need to make sure that he is safe outweighed the fear, but her free hand twirls a Flarishk pendant to pray for their safety. Maybe Manuk will grace them at least on that if the prayer came through his trusty messenger.

The further they move the more heat, she never was bothered by heat, but she wonders how Connor fares. He did not hesitate in his step even if sweat did gleam on his exposed skin, the blue marks remain. And that weird aura she sees.

The couple reach a coliseum sized bubble of dried lava opening.  In this giant underground room, there are charred steps that lead them to a bridge. The bridge is high enough above the lava pools below and it is black from the soot of it. The broken man-made structures looking like city engulfed in dried lava. The bridge is long with walls that reach up higher than Connor’s head, each section of the bridge are adorn with statues of unknown saints and creatures. This screams a civilization long before her people and even longer than the empire they know.

"This is…" Connor took a second to gawk at the sheer magnitude of this place.

How can such a place survive with years of constant eruptions? Even the lava that pools below the bridge threatens the sanctity of this place.

And yet Rhea stood before it with the same awe, forgetting some of her fear of the lava. "I can barely believe it. This is the Lost City of Jarg."

Her father warned her to never enter it. Like always she was never told why. Her skin crawls of all the possible reasons, it felt like they were running out of time. This time she is the voice of reason, "We have to keep moving."

Connor snaps out of the trance, descending the steps towards the bridge. She follows suit but her confidence wanes with each step. Just before the bridge her eyes wander over to the pools of lava. The bright red orange mixture bubbles, even as still as it is she swears she can feel it build with chaos. Is it reacting to me?

Her body aches at a muscle memory of the past, her enchantment eaves her when his voice calls out to her from a notable distance. He is now a quarter of the bridge away. With no time to waste she jogs to his side, ignoring the sharp pains in her ribs. They pace towards the end of this bridge, trying to keep her attention forward. It is the only way to keep herself from getting further distracted.

She studies the captain’s expression occasionally and found only determination not fear. The desire to please him fuels her to keep going, soon enough they arrive in another room. This one is a lot smaller and more shrine in nature than anything, the years of desolation have charred the walls. Even one of the walls had torn down leaving a huge rubbled hole. in the center is a pedestal with an odd black container. It is obviously hiding something, but the design begs a lot of questions, it is sculpted to look like two giant black hands laced together forever. There is an even stranger blue glow between the fingers, Rhea frets what would cause such radiance.

Rhea hangs back when Connor advances towards the strange sculpture, feeling less eager than him. Her eyes scan the room, seeing familiar scriptures on one downed wall. Those she thought she will not see so soon. Her father taught her the language: Kreoven.

“The Great Jargus of the Prideful and Rageful. His own hot blood fills these caverns.”

Wait his blood?

Rhea peaks over where they entered first, recalling the lava. She just assumed it was Manuk’s, but this says something different. It feels so impossible and yet she can turn into this creature of lava. Did Jargus share my abilities? What does this all mean, papa?

The dread builds in her stomach again after reading the cursed paragraph and if she did have food in her she might have lost it once more. The nerves were very dizzying, she craves nothing more than to curl up in a ball and wait it out. However, she cannot allow the wrongness of this place to get in her way. She needs to protect Connor.

She notices the strange contraption on the pedestal snap open when Connor reaches for it and she ran over. By his side now, she can see that all it did was open to reveal something round and beaming with soft light. A human hand can cup this round thing in one hand; it can be tuck away in the pocket. Rhea still couldn’t tell what it is.

Connor looks confident enough to know what it is, he reaches for it and held it up. The glow dulls in his hand showing a small metal ball with etchings in every curve of its small round form. The etchings look remarkably familiar. Rhea’s anxiety spikes and she forces to look away. It didn’t matter; she felt very uneasy in its presence. A wild instinct made her feel like if she dared to touch it, she might not like the outcome.

It is weird to feel this uneasiness around an inanimate object that she is almost tempted to tell Connor to put it back. However, the captain held onto it with no qualms. Connor’s lip curves into a triumphant smirk, neglecting to notice the unease in his spouse. Eventually, he tucks the little artifact away in his pocket. As collective as always, he faces her, running his fingers over his bandana then through his brown hair. “We are leaving.”

He might be playing it tame, but his excitement is very noticeable underneath his facade. This must be exactly what he is looking for. She nods eagerly since this place carries such a foreboding presence and the message on that wall did not make her feel any better.

All the same, a voice neither of them recognizes pierces through the scorching air.

“My oh my, can’t believe I’d be so lucky to witness nominee with Manuk’s pet.”

They both glare towards the opening in the wall, a cloaked figure materializes right out of the darkness. The same one that caused all that mayhem not too long ago.

Rhea raises her burning hands with a snarl; they aren’t making her any less anxious. The captain pushes her behind him again, his sweat gleaming face twisting with silent wrath. He already had his pistol cock and aim at the cloaked figure.

“Tsk, dear me. I deserve every bit of your contempt but-” The cloaked figure’s voice is higher pitch, giving away her true gender. With arms crossed she displays a level of calm, unlike the craze in her bloodshot creole eyes. “That might have to wait. Since the mage war this place is cursed any who enters will be swallowed by Erathea.”

A shiver ran up the Rhea’s spine and the hair on the back of her neck stood those words reminds her of that day again. This time her throbbing mind plays out the very day she fell in lava, her body aches from the memory. It is like she is reliving her own demise all over again. Her hands reach for her curly head, trying to push down the pricking pain beneath her skin through heavy breathes. She no longer wants to fight but run as far as possible.

Connor did not notice it even though the arcane witch leers at her knowingly. He clicks the pistol with a scowl, “You arcane abominations all sound crazier each time.”

“Connor...please.” Rhea gathers the will to push the pain that burns her muscles, tugging on his cloak sleeve to gain his attention. “Forget her, we need to go right now.”

Just at the end of her sentence the floor below rumbles, shaking off any loose rubble from above their heads and crashing down. Cursing under his breath, Connor drops his aim and bounds back towards the bridge. Rhea kept pace, not daring to look back to see what happened with the witch.

Running is all they could do now, Rhea kept her focus forward, but the air only burns even hotter and flecks of fire crowds on them. “The lava is nearing!”

They reach back the stairs and that is when she dares to peek behind her. The lava bubbles up to the bridge, submerging some parts of it already and pooling up the path behind them. Her heart pounds against her painful ribs, each haggard breath she took making more of her muscles burn in pain. Jargus’s blood plans to eat us both alive!

The panic fuels her to push on, going back through the hole they came through but the lava bubbles and churns right up to it. It is at their tail at every turn.

They won’t be able to run from it forever. As if guided by some strange insight, she stops to face the churning lava. Her ribs hurt like Arken’s hell and she can hear her husband shout through the chaos at her to get out of the way. The way the lava churn reminds her of water, and constant reference her father would use to help control her powers.

Just like water…