ch 5: Trap?

As Icarus moved deeper into the darkness, the whispers grew more insistent, each utterance bearing a weight of dread that felt as though it was suffocating him. Nevertheless, he persisted, his feet propelled forward by a boundless sense of curiosity.

Finally, he beheld the spectacle of white blood, smears of it twisting and writhing with a disquieting fluidity, a stark contrast between the cold walls. The substance emitted an ethereal radiance, its strange glow permeating the air with an otherworldly energy that hummed like a current through Icarus's body. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of gods bled such a strange and otherworldly substance.

As the sigils began to form from the white blood, each intricate pattern and symbol weaving a complex tapestry of meaning that he couldn't begin to fathom, Icarus felt a mounting sense of awe and terror. The power of the gods, pulsing with an uncontainable force, seemed to reach out from beyond the veil of reality itself, drawing him closer into its grasp.

But then, as if out of nowhere, a single sigil caught his attention. It was unlike any of the others, a shape that he had never seen before.

"អមតៈ" he whispered to himself, trying to decipher the meaning behind the unfamiliar sigil. What kind of power could be invoked with such a symbol, he wondered. It seemed to hold within it the essence of an ancient magic, something that had long been lost to the ages.

Despite the mounting sense of danger, Icarus couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sight before him. He felt like he was peering into the very fabric of the universe, seeing things that no mortal was ever meant to witness. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was in the presence of something greater than himself, something beyond human comprehension.

As he stared at the sigils, Icarus couldn't help but wonder if he was meant to see them, if there was some higher purpose to his presence in this place. He knew that he was in over his head, but he couldn't bring himself to turn away, to let the mystery slip through his fingers.

'thk-thk-thk'

Icarus was suddenly jolted out of his reverie by a faint sound. His heart began to pound in his chest as he strained to listen, the sound of footsteps reached Icarus's ears. The tension in the atmosphere was palpable, and Icarus knew that he was not alone. The footsteps sounded like the ominous click of hooves on stone, but he couldn't be sure.

He turned around, heart pounding, But to his surprise, there was nothing there, just the empty darkness of the night. He strained his eyes, searching for any signs of movement or danger, but there was nothing to be seen.

He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. He knew that he was not alone, that there was something lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike.

But try as he might, Icarus could see no trace of his unseen foe. He spun around in a circle, his eyes darting back and forth as he scanned the darkness, but there was nothing to be seen. If Icarus was in a western town now, It was sure that he could see some tumbleweeds rolling around.

He realised standing here and staring at the symbols he can't even understand wasn't the wisest move, with a burst of courage, Icarus forced himself to walk forward, as Icarus rounded the corner, his heart racing in his chest, his eyes frantically scanning the shadows for any sign of danger, the sight that greeted him was like a scene from a horror movie. A figure, suspended on a rusted iron crucifix, its limbs twisted and contorted in death. For a moment, Icarus could not make out what he was seeing. It was only when his gaze fell upon the wings, now nothing but jagged bones, that he realized he was looking at the skeletal remains of an angel.

The angel's once-beautiful wings, that had once shimmered in the light, were now nothing but tattered remnants of bone, decaying and falling apart. Its face was a skull, the empty sockets of its eyes staring out at the world with an eerie, soulless gaze. The creature had been nailed to the crucifix with rusted, bloodstained spikes that had pierced its flesh, causing it unimaginable pain and suffering.

The stench of death was overpowering, almost suffocating in its intensity. Icarus felt bile rising in his throat as he took a step back, horror and revulsion warring within him. He felt a shiver run down his spine, as if the angel's ghost were still watching him from beyond the veil, its sorrow and pain still lingering in the air.

Before Icarus could really wonder about what led to the angel to this gruesome fate, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relationship with what led the angel to their death and his own experience.

"Was he attracted here, just like i was?....But how long ago even was this, decades, maybe centuries, he's nothing but a pile of bones now, and he's nailed him into a crucifix?, last time i checked beasts can't nail a human into a cross....does that mean the footsteps i heard wasnt something but someone instead.....?" Icarus couldn't help but thousands questions came running across his mind.

"is he the only ang-"

'drip'

Suddenly, single, wet droplet landed on Icarus's face, and he looked up in confusion. As he did, his heart stopped in his chest. Four glowing red orbs stared back at him from the darkness above.They were not like any eyes he had ever seen before, devoid of pupils or irises.

As Icarus gazed up at the red orbs, he couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of horror crawl up his spine. The eyes seemed to burn with an unholy light, like the embers of a dying fire. They pulsed and flickered, casting eerie shadows across the walls.

The longer he looked, the more he felt as though the eyes were not simply watching him, but probing him, searching for weakness. A low growl rumbled through the darkness, and Icarus knew that he was in grave danger.He felt a sense of utter helplessness wash over him, like a small boat lost in an endless, tumultuous sea.