18 Who Are the True Monsters?

I stood underneath the single old oak that silently towered over the entrance to the Grotto. Rain poured from the gray clouds above as if the seraphim were weeping at the scene before me. My legs began to buckle as a cold breeze blew softly against my damp skin. I felt as if I would fall to my knees, but I stood strong. The ropes tied to a high limb creaked from the wind and the strain they bore.

The bodies of the three Ljósálfar brothers swayed gently before me. All three had tattered clothes and blood stained skin. Evidence that they were beaten and tortured before being strung up like puppets was spread along their limbs. Fresh bruises still covered their faces as blood still dripped from their wounds. I saw that each died with a defiant grin chiseled on their frozen faces. They died how they lived, defiant til the end.

"Cut them down," I turned to the small dämon that risked his life to get me in Breura, "They...they deserve better than to hang like some decoration."

Without delay, the little creature scampered up to the top branch where the elven brothers hung. I watched as he used a small flame from his fingertip and as smoke rose from the knot that held Ailwin Reycaryn the youngest of the Reycaryn brothers. His golden curls fluttered as his body fell into the arms of six scamps, lesser dämons, that set him gently to the side. Next was the middle brother of the three, Akkar Reycaryn. His battered face was beyond recognition besides the birthmark that resembled a bird on his cheek as he joined his brother. The last was the oldest and ringleader of the three, Alwin Raycaryn. Dried blood caked where an ear once was and the edge of his lips carved into a forever smile.

I looked upon the three of them as their eyes, void of color, looked to the heavens above. In life, the three of them worked as traveling merchants that used the Grotto as a storefront, and home. They were so full of life and kind hearted people that would give everything they had to help those in need. I remember the last time I saw them was when Alwin had brought to my attention the idea of building an actual shop just outside the entrance under the same tree he hung from. He was overjoyed when I agreed to his request and how the three of them smiled as they began working on a floor plan of the building. A dream that died with them at the very spot where they planned to make an honest living.

"Lord Jackal," a small screeching voice boomed, "More inside along with those of us that survived."

"How many?" I asked looking down at Tus-Tus who stood at my side after climbing down the tree.

He didn't say anything as he tried to avoid my gaze. "How many, Tus-Tus?" I repeated my question with a little more force than I wished.

"Better you see for yourself," he answered as he motioned for me to follow him.

I took note that the large sliding stone that hid the Grotto was reduced to rubble along the descending stone steps. Scorch marks ran the length of several steps and the walls before fading away. Heat of the blaze could still be felt as if unseen fires still burned. The stench of burned flesh filled my nostrils as I saw a pair of small legs reduced to nothing but bone as several scamps tried to move a large boulder from the sorry soul underneath. The first of many casualties at the hands of an enemy I should have dealt with long ago.

When we reached the final step, my heart felt as if it would break from the carnage that laid before me. The Grotto had acted as a gathering hub for monsters that just want to live normal lives and those that wanted to be free from the outside kingdoms for many years. Alcoves where stone tables and benches sat were shattered to pebbles. Broken glass was scattered around the floor along with food ready to be eaten. Instruments laid broken in the corner of the square stage with their owners. Their heads laid between their legs as their hands were nailed to the wall. Signs of casted spells and broken blades littered the cavernous space as pools of blood stained the floor and painted the walls. I saw several bodies of armored paladins, but not enough for the amount of blood.

"Lord Jack," a young girl's whispery voice called my name.

Looking to where the bar once sat with racks of ale and other alcohol shelved behind it, I found the owner of the voice. A young girl maybe in her fifteenth winter stood in the remnants of the massive marble slab. She wore a damp white summer dress with a red bow tied around her waist. Black waist length hair outlined her pale round face that housed two deep set blue eyes. White legging was worn underneath brown sandals. The girl would look out of place among monsters, but the fact she was semi-transparent changed that feeling. The girl was a ghost that called the Grotto home like so many others.

I practically ran to the girl and wrapped my arms around her even if they passed through her, "Zara, I'm so glad you're okay."

The ghost, Zara, wept as a cold chill erupted along my spine as she wrapped her arms around me. "I-I was so frightened that I only hid and watched as they toyed with anyone they caught," she buried her face into my chest, "I saw what they did to the Reycaryn brothers as they laughed among themselves. Their screams--"

Fear had finally taken its toll as Zara released long held tears. I held her in my arms as a father would his child trying to comfort her. I looked to Tsu-Tus, "Go help the other bring the brothers home." I watched as the little scamp began to leave but stopped him, "Tsu-Tus, after that you're free."

Without a word, the dämon bound to the Grotto rejoined his brethren with the retrieval of those that died near the surface. I was left alone with Zara in a place that held laughter, joy, elegant music, and the stench of bad breath. Now, all that could be smelt was the coppery aroma of blood, the smoky texture of flames, and the never ending rot of death. The room seemed so foreign without life spread throughout it. So quiet that the sound of the breeze coming in from the doorway roared like a battle cry. That was until another sound caught my attention.

Underneath the roaring breeze and Zara's tears, I heard the exasperated groan coming from a nearby paladin. I watched closely to see if my mind was just playing tricks on me, or if he was still alive. Part of me hoped beyond hope that at least one still walked on the precipice of the living. It was only natural to return the kind gesture they gave the brothers and show how they felt. I smiled as I saw faint movement of the paladin's chest as the groans became more noticeable.

Looking at Zara, I saw that she stared at the man as he began to stir from his sleep. I smiled, "Go on to the Inner Sanctum, I have some work to do before I join you."

Without a sound, Zara faded from existence as a phantom breeze carried her away. I stood once more taking in the scene around me then made my way to the paladin. I watched as he slowly made it to his feet, stumbling a few times before regaining his balance. He looked to be in his thirtieth winter and well built even under the graysten armor that was common for all Paladins of Lokdis. The armor itself was coated in blood that stained the once white metal as a large crack ran across the chest revealing the bloodied chest underneath. The cloth robe that high ranking paladins wore was nothing but smoldered fabric. The symbol of Lokdis, a straight line with an upside down V in the middle, stitched across the back had claw marks across it.

As I neared, I saw that the man had his head bowed and fingers intertwined in front of him as he prayed for his fallen comrades. "Good evening," I said in a cold tone startling the man as he pulled a small dagger from a sheath.

I saw fear in the man's eyes upon seeing the dark figure clinging to my shoulder, "Stay back monster. I-I won't hesitate to kill you as I did the others!"

"Silence," I yelled as black threads stitched his mouth shut. Even more fear seeped into the paladin's eyes as I watched the whelp try to cut the threads, "I don't think so," shadowy spikes rose from the ground piercing the man's armpits and lifted him as his muffled screams filled my ears. "It's not so funny when you're the one being tormented is it."

I saw tears run down the paladin's face as I placed a hand against his cheek. "Shh... there's no need for tears," I said in a comforting tone, "You'll join them soon enough, but not until you experience true terror."

Muffled screams once more filled my ears as darkness flowed from my hand and enveloped the paladin's head. I just watched as his body began to convulse in futile attempts to be free. This was just a small taste that awaited him in Penumbra where a far more experienced hand will take care of him. I turned as the spikes began to descend back into the shadows below taking him with them. His screams were cut short as he became one with his own shadow.

"Check for any more survivors," I ordered the unseen figure hiding in the shadows, "Bind them and bring them to the Inner Sanctum. After that, see that Tsu-Tsu and his brethren are compensated for their time here."

When I entered the Sanctum, I found myself leaving one heart tearing scene only to stand in the middle of another. The Inner Sanctum was one of the larger caverns that made up the Sheroth Grotto system. It doubled the size of Raven's Claw in both size and width while columns ran the full length down the middle where an empty throne sat. As I walked the path, my heart felt more pain at the sight of the ten rows that had thirty bodies evenly spaced throughout the either side of the path stopping at the far walls. Corpses of both monster and human alike laid together for the eternal sleep that awaited them. Large braziers burned casting light upon the few that paid their final respects.

Dismembered limbs casually laid with the rest of their owners while most were missing. Remnants of insectoids, humanoid insects, still held on to their last dinner as half their heads were gone. Shattered Lamia scales resting around their owners had lost the luxurious texture that helped them shine in the sunlight. Splintered bones of the undead occupied several spaces as their preserved flesh still burned from the magic that purified them. Elven and human bodies laid among the monsters of the Grotto. Their bodies were more mangled than most for their unknown betrayal of Lokdis.

Sorrow grew in my chest even more when I neared the throne where Zara and two other guardians of the Grotto stood. "Lord Jackal," Zara bowed her head as the other two followed her gaze. I saw the feeling of betrayal in their eyes.

The guardian on the left was an insectoid by the name of Shz'rak. Two bulbous compound orb-like eyes protruded from a triangular head. Just below the eyes and at the end of an elongated snout, a pair of enormous mandibles rested along with four smaller appendages used for shoveling food into the wicked maw. An unnaturally stick-like neck connected the massive head to a broad chest clad in a custom forged armor allowing two invisible wings to freely move. Two pairs of raptorial spindly limbs crossed his chest. Greenish blue blood splattered his abdomen where a massive hole bore down to the tan exoskeleton underneath.

The other guardian was an undead, a Lich to be more precise. Lichs were once powerful necromancers that sought immortality becoming undead themselves. Unlike most undead creatures, lichs regained their past memories along with their arcane knowledge and prowess. The lich wore tattered dirt stained vestments like those of the clergy would wear during ceremonies. A faded white stole draped around the creature's shoulders with ornate symbols of a forgotten religion that worshiped the 'Spider'. Two flaming blue orbs glowed in the dark abyss where eyes once were burned into my skin as bony fingers held an aged tome.

"The Whelp King returns moments after we truly need him," a crass seductive feminine voice escaped the non-moving abyss of the lich's mouth.

"And wearing clothes of the humans," Shz'rak chimed with his clickety voice, "humans that slaughtered or enslaved most of us."

I ignored the two as I looked for the fourth guardian. My unspoken question was answered by Akroq, the lich, "If you're looking for Duval, we had to imprison him in one of the antechambers. He's gone feral since Kuval was taken with several others. He's badly wounded, I might add just in case you care for your subordinates."

I didn't say anything as anger began to stir along with the already formed sorrow in the pits of my chest. For years, I have put up with the lich's crass words for the simple fact she was a monster as well. However, my mind could only take so much after looking upon the faces of the countless dead that laid around me and the eyes of those that stared as I walked past. Their eyes were filled with anger as if I was the cause of what happened. I didn't say anything as I turned to gaze at each one who avoided my eyes. It was another burden that I bore alone.

Taking a breath to steel myself, I spoke in a loud clear voice so that the entirety of the Sanctum could hear. "Mourn your dead as long as you wish. Belittle me all you desire if that helps soften the pain," I turned to the three guardians, "Take the throne for yourself if that is what is needed to survive."

I started to make my way to the Spider's chamber, "You're all free to do what you like. I have other business to attend to."

I hadn't made it quite far when Shz'rak spoke up. "You hear that, our King desires to leave us like stray dogs on the street. I say he's the reason why so many of our kind were butchered. He never gave a damn about what happens to u--"

An older voice with a sharp tone roared, "Silence!"

The sound of footsteps rang throughout the cavern causing everyone to turn and stare at the owner. Walking down the path was a well dressed man in his twenties with combed back blonde hair. The man had a somewhat sophisticated hardened face from multiple travels throughout his young life. His attire was that a butler would wear with a black coat that was tailored to fit him like a glove. A white shirt poked between a buttoned vest underneath the coat as a silver chain hung from the left vest pocket. The man wore a pair of white gloves that disappeared underneath the lapels of his wrists. Grey trousers free from debris covered his lower half along with a pair of simple dress shoes perfect for a ball or dance.

As he neared, the man stopped and bowed before me as a butler would to a king. "Master," he spoke with a well-mannered tone, "I have all surviving paladins bound and gagged in the entrance. However, I feel that two guardians should learn how to speak to the one that saved them long ago."

"Is that a threat, pet?" Shz'rak asked as I heard the all familiar crunch of his mandibles striking each other.

Akroq chuckled as a faint light casted my shadow on a far wall, "I do believe it was Shz'rak. The pet is rearing its fangs while the master acts like a coward. M--"

I interrupted, "Do as you please, but in Penumbra. There has been too much fighting here already," I turned and continued to the antechamber. With a hand raised, "Zara while they have their fun, please ensure that the paladins don't try to do anything. You may kill them if need be as long as two survive. Orion, make sure you don't kill them. The Grotto still needs their strength."

Though I didn't look back, I could tell Orion was smiling upon hearing my order. He chuckled as I sensed a gateway to Penumbra appear in the open air, "My will is your command, my Master."

I found myself in an open cavern where nothing but stone could be seen. A small path led to the middle where a skylight allowed the moon to shine through. The sound of the small creek flowing around the center space that formed a circle gave the chamber a soothing atmosphere. A stone table and chairs rested to the far side just out of reach of the moonlight. When I first came to the Grotto, I would always find an excuse to come here to sort my thoughts, but now all I felt was sorrowful rage that I could no longer keep inside.

All at once, the faces of those that laid dead in the next chamber filled my eyes. The faces of the children that played hide 'n seek and tag around the caverns without a care. I remember how the would come to me and ask for me to join them. Their confused expressions when they tried to find me only to pass me several times. Their little smiling faces whenever I appeared out of thin air. The innocent eyes filled with joy as I gave them presents from my travels when I visited. Finally, the sight of their small figures slaughtered like the rest for being monsters or simply living among monsters.

My knees finally buckled under my weight as tears flowed freely. The air became filled with a blood crimson as I no longer kept my aura from overflowing. I slammed my hands down sending a wave of black flame around me burning the stone and scaring it. I roared a pained scream as all the memories played before my eyes from simple games to drinking with one another. Looking at the skylight, I screamed so loud that anyone near the small hole would think a spirit was weeping for a lost love. I wept like a newborn babe fresh from its mother's womb.

I silently knelt in the center of the moonlight unable to shed anymore tears. All that I felt was an ever growing rage at the paladins that slaughtered those of the Grotto I swore to protect, anger at how I was quickly blamed for leaving among my other half, and at myself for not being here. I closed my eyes as I tried to calm my rage in hopes to subdue that side of me I buried long ago. It was like fighting a cornered bear protecting its young from the hunters looking for a fine fur. I imagined the contours of the face staring back at me among the eternal flames.

"And they say we are monsters," I inadvertently said to the open air.

I said the words as if expecting a response from an unseen ear. My heart was clouded and my hurt as I decided on how to go on. The long forgotten whispers buzzing in my ear tempting me to return to that nirvana. A state where I allowed my emotions and instinct to guide my blade through the world. A path I barely survived leaving to better myself and regain what humanity was taken from me. The whispers was that of one emotion that caused many kingdoms' downfall, Wrath.

In the shadows of the cavern, a presence made itself known as the sounds of threads being plucked like a violin. The presence felt cold as if the coming winter had already made itself at home. From the darkness of my eyelids, I saw an enormous white mass in the shape of a swirling smoke slowly make its way down the way from a hidden crevice. The mass of smoke gently placed two of its massive limbs on the ground without making a sound as if the weight was suspended. An icy chill ran across my body as it screamed for me to run as the smoke lumbered closer. The sound of tiny claws striking the stone floor grew closer until stopping just before me.

Warm breath caressed my face as a foul smell violated my nose. It smelt of rot from countless victims devoured over the years. An accumulated stench that was worse than a corpse left out in the hot sun while carrion birds and other scavengers feast on it. Another smell wrapped around the foul breath. A burning smell following the sound of sizzling stone. It was the stench of Death that countless smelt before meeting their untimely demise.

I opened my eyes to find eight massive orbs set in a equally enormous head covered in tiny crimson hairs. "We are all monsters," a chorus of voices responded.