Treasure-hunters were the brave of the world of Esynia. They alone dared to scour the ruins of the fallen Mexacoatl Empire, braving its crumbling stone golems to bring back arcane artifacts from the past age; they alone were the only ones insane enough to explore the sun-temples of the cult of Kanai, narrowly escaping the poisoned bolts shot by the Supine’s fearsome greatbows of horn. The grand arcanums and libraries of Esynia grew rich from the toil and cool, unharried sweat of the treasure-hunter.
That being said, there was one place in Esynia where even the brave would not go. Beyond the wall, past the dens of wild things that inhabited the dark and nameless forests, stretched the Mistlands. Dense fog, a chill air, and whispers, whispers, of it being the realm of the dead—long lost cities from the time when necral spirits ruled the world, and not living flesh. Few treasure-hunters risked the journey there; even fewer returned, and the ones that did came back scarred, muted, and empty-handed.
The only thing these survivors did bring back, though, were the tales. Chilling stories of the desiccated earth, the hands that would grasp out of pools of mercury, towering spirals like spikes piercing the sky. Cautionary murmurs of how the walls themselves had consumed their comrades whole, of invisible things that stole the faces of their friends and drank their souls.
Despite this, the allure of necral treasure proved too great time and time again. Each year, new parties would roam out, heedless of the danger, determined to be the first to return with the spoils of barrow-cities and necral mazes stuffed in their packs.
-
It was one moonlit night in early November; that was when they decided to rob the dead.
Allie glanced up at Juniper and Mack, who were bickering again. Tensions were at an all time high, now that the Mistlands were in sight. Even through the dense forest canopy, she could sense a change in the sky; no blue, no sun, just a dark, wilting grey.
“I’m telling you, we raid the outer areas and then get out,” Mack said firmly, shifting his balance from atop his horse. “No loot-lust or punching straight into the heart of ancient-death-civilization territory. Anything we grab from the barrows, even if it’s a teacup, will be better than nothing at all.”
Juniper snorted. “No, Mack, don’t you see? It’s only a matter of time before teams start to make successful runs through the Mistlands. We can’t just be the first! We have to bring back the good shit. Weapons, necral tech, arcana, armor, the stuff that the labs will pay top dollar for. Who’s going to buy a teacup? Some second-rate museum?”
“The recognition that we made it here and got out with something to our name will be enough. Besides, I’d much rather be out with two hankies and a necral dildo in my pack than down a team.”
Allie snorted.
“Yeah, but who’s gonna believe us if all we bring back is scraps?” Juniper countered. “What, did the dead use special magic tea strainers? The only proof we can bring back is the big stuff, stuff that will shake the magic and scientific worlds to their foundations. Good luck doing that with a dildo.”
“Maybe it’s a really, really special dildo,” Allie suggested innocently.
“Stay out of it, dimwit,” Juniper shot back. “You just use your special Seeking powers when we get there to find us some really powerful artifacts and make us rich.”
Mack raised an eyebrow at her. “Aw, do I hear some tension? Maybe I should give you two some space and you guys can kiss and make up.”
Allie felt a blush creep up her cheeks; Juniper gritted her teeth, her face reddening as well. “That was one time. It didn’t mean anything.”
Mack chuckled. “It didn’t sound that way when I—whoa.”
Their horses had stopped. Trails of mist threaded through the air. Very faintly, through the suffocating veil of fog, they could almost see the twisting, undulating stone spires.
They had arrived.
-
“This is a very bad idea.”
“Quit your grousing, Mack, we haven’t run into anything yet.” Juniper squinted down the long hall. “Flashlights out, I reckon.”
The outermost ruins had turned out to be little more than piles of stone scattered through the hills. Despite having combed through the crumbled rock and dodged through pools of dangerous necrotic slime, all they had to show for their efforts were a few bruises and cuts.
“Maybe those buggers did manage to grab stuff and sell it,” grumbled Mack. “I can’t understand how else we haven’t found anything yet.”
“You think pricks like the Tawny Twins would keep their mouths shut about this after liquidating something from the Mistlands? No, I don’t think so.” Juniper frowned, then clipped her flashlight to her shoulder rig. “Though… if everyone else went through the outer ruins… they probably turned to the only intact structures nearby. Like this one. And we haven’t encountered anything more dangerous than flesh-eating slime yet, which means all the traps are ahead of us.”
Allie looked around. The walls seemed to tighten, closing in around her. Tales of invisible witches and soul-sucking traps bounced around in her head, sending quiet tingles of apprehension down her spine. “Weapons free?” she asked, hating how plaintive her voice sounded.
“Weapons free,” Juniper agreed. She and Mack raised their assault rifles, thumbing off safeties and shifting into ready stances. Allie reached to her waist, unholstering her sidearm. While the cool touch of the bronze fastcaster was somewhat reassuring, it wasn’t lost on her just how useless it would be against the legendary traps rumored to be hidden inside the tombs here.
“Advance.”
The dark was now domineering, cruel; their flashlights only shone meager rays into the dark, dissipating unnaturally quickly down the hall. It was like the shadows were actively cloaking their way forward, maliciously guiding them into danger.
Pins and needles, running through Allie’s head.
“Duck!” she yelped, and Mack and Juniper dropped to a crouch instantly. A breeze—or was it just that?—passed above their heads, nearly silent except for a quiet schinck sound. They all glanced down as Juniper’s hair came free; her topknot had been neatly severed, and was rolling on the ground around their knees.
“Great ancestors,” Juniper breathed. “That was close.”
“What was that?” Allie asked, shaken. “There wasn’t even any sound, no traps engaging, nothing…”
Mack picked up the topknot and studied it. “Very clean cut, singed on the edges. I would have to say some kind of magic, no? Allie, you’re the expert on this…?”
Allie reached out and grabbed the topknot. A sharp, acrid smell filled her nostrils. “I… I don’t know,” she said, unable to keep the fright seeping into her words. “It wasn’t anything I recognized…”
“Let’s keep moving,” Juniper said firmly. “Slowly.”
Careful step after careful step. Allie was straining her senses, trying to catch some hint of trap blades or magical beams incoming. Her hearing was stretching into the silence so anxiously that the empty space seemed to howl into her head, throbbing around her.
“Door here.”
Mack had paused; one gloved hand was gingerly feeling out the outline of an entranceway, intricately carved into the wall in bone-like spirals. He let his rifle dangle and gestured with his free hand. “Allie?”
Allie made her way over and placed a careful hand on the strange construction. There wasn’t much need to close her eyes to concentrate; she was already blinded by the hallway’s grasp. “I… can maybe feel something?” Allie scrunched her brows together. There was something, like a dense, amorphous presence, humming just beyond her ability to sense it. “Maybe the door is magic-hardened. There is probably something there, but the material of the door and walls are blocking my ability to pinpoint what it is.”
She stepped back. Juniper glanced at Mack and nodded. They both took out small, iron discs, placing them at the four corners of the door. Arkinetic rams.
“Entry!”
With a loud, resonating toll, the door collapsed backwards into the room, as if it had been crumpled by the hand of a giant. Allie stumbled back, paralyzed, overwhelmed—the muted presence on the other side of the door washed over her, hitting her like a solid force. She fell.
“Allie!” shouted Juniper, with concern, and turned around. It was enough distraction for her to not notice the small wisp of smoke, moving unnaturally fast and with purpose, striking out like a tendril. Allie’s eyes widened.
“Juni-”
“UuuPHHH!”
“Juniper!” Mack lunged to her recklessly, tackling her—but she had already inhaled the smoke, and was writing on the ground, choking. “Allie, what’s happening? Help!”
Allie threw herself forward onto the ground, to Juniper’s side. A numb hand scrabbling at her satchel—the healcaster...
“It’s not working,” Allie said, hysteria beginning to infect her voice. “Oh god, it’s not working…”
Mack threw his pack onto the ground and began to search frantically. “I have pills—anti-radiation, general antidote, chi balancers, what do I give her? Allie? What is this? Quickly!”
“Try the, the general antidote.” Allie stood up, adrenaline coursing through her, as Mack unbottled a handful of pills and tried to force them past Juniper’s pallid lips. “Oh god—oh god oh god oh god…”
Instinct took a hold of her. Allie tore her feet from the ground, running straight into the chamber. Behind her, Mack called out frantically, “No, Allie, no!”, but she was already moving.
Shelves and shelves. Artefacts, tomes, swords and daggers, urns, glittering necklaces, all thrumming with an intense power that if not for the adrenaline would have brought Allie to her knees with their sheer passive presence. The motherlode—and all it had cost them was Juniper.
No.
Frantic sweeps of the shelves. Something anything please please please PLEASE.
A book, laid front-outwards on a low pedestal in the center of the room. Allie rushed forward, a strange pulsing in her head. Somehow, as if her own hands knew what they were doing, she reached out to the cover and pulled off the intricate circular skull design, which came off like thin latex in her hands. The pressure in her head was building, screeching to unbearable highs, and behind her in the hallway Juniper was choking and slowing and dying—not Juniper, not her, please…!
Allie tore her high-collared shirt open to reveal her neck and without any hesitation pressed the design onto her bare skin.
Black. For one, scary moment, Allie truly lost all vision, but in the next moment sight curled back into existence and she blinked hard, because now she knew. She knew that she had just pressed a Necrasia Seal into her body, permanently gifting her with immense understanding of necral technology and magic. Now, Allie knew that Juniper had been attacked by nebvitae mortisis, a defensive seeking gas meant to invade an intruder’s body and poison them from the inside out. And now, she knew what to do.
“Out of the way!” Allie roared, sprinting back to Mack and Juniper. Without even looking, she snatched something off of the shelves and rotated it around in her palm, and as she tumbled to Juniper’s side she slammed a glistening, grey-black mouthpiece over the feebly stirring woman’s lips.
Juniper’s entire body arched and became alive again. Her eyes shot wide open as the mouthpiece caved inwards, where Allie knew that two tendrils were shooting down her throat and trachea, melding into the corrupted tissue there and healing it. On the surface, more tiny tendrils flashed to life and slammed their way into her nose. First awareness, then panic, flooded into Juniper’s eyes; she immediately started grappling with the mouthpiece, but Allie grabbed her hands and pinned them at her sides.
“What are you doing to her, Allie!” Mack was now in front of her, brandishing his rifle. Wild fear danced in his face. “Let her go!”
“No, stop!” Allie raised one hand to try and ward off the rifle barrel, but immediately had to bring a hand down again and restrain Juniper. “This is to heal her. There’s advanced cell death happening in her body at an alarmingly fast rate, and nothing in either of our kits is potent enough to stop it, let alone address the damage the nebvitae mortisis has already done to her lungs and circulatory system. This is necral skin; it’s reversing the corruption inside her.”
“You’re insane!” Mack’s face was livid. “You’re possessed! Take that off her, Allie, now!”
“It’s done,” Allie said, and quickly let go of Juniper’s wrists and grasped the mouthpiece, which was now spreading across her face, with both hands. A warm heat at her throat, and the seal glowed, sending Mack stumbling backwards with shock. The necral skin’s grasp on Juniper’s face slackened, and with one smooth tug, Allie pulled it off her face. Long pale tubes came slithering out of Juniper’s mouth and nose, making wet sounds as they evacuated from her insides and shrunk back into the mouthpiece. In mere seconds, the mouthpiece was compact in her hand again; Juniper was retching and coughing on the ground.
“Juniper!” Mack fell to his knees and cradled her head, patting her face with one hand. “Can you hear me? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said in a trembling voice.
Allie took a step forward. Mack swung the gun around once more, aggressively. “Get back! Stand against that wall! Drop that mouthpiece!”
“No, stop, Mack,” said Juniper quietly.
He looked down at her, open-mouthed. “What? She just shoved… dead person tech down your throat, she—”
“She saved me.” Juniper struggled to prop herself up on her elbows, then looked up at Allie. “The burning is all gone, and I can breathe again. Whatever she did… it worked.”
Mack locked gazes with Allie. Suspicion still floated in his eyes, but he slowly lowered his rifle. “What the... hell... was that?”
Allie raised a hand, tracing the base of her throat. The design was still there, present as raised grooves in her skin. “I found a Necrasia Seal in the chamber. It gave me knowledge of how this stuff, this necral tech, works, and also the ability to control it. When I imprinted it onto my skin, I understood what was killing Juniper and how only necral tech would be able to save her. So I grabbed the first thing I found, which was this necral skin, and applied it to her.”
“So how do you know all that?”
“I just said.” Allie raised a defensive hand, half question, half ward. “It… told me.”
Juniper sank back down to the floor. She looked weary. “Necral skin?”
“It’s a combination of advanced magic and biotic tech. Most forms of necral skin make some kind of physical connection with the wearer, among other things enhancing the healing factor of the human body to unnaturally high levels. Wearing a fully connected necral skin, somebody could get shot and their body could eject the bullet and fully heal in a matter of seconds. A lot of necral armor uses this feature, as well.”
Ignoring Mack’s surprised look, Juniper raised a hand and pointed at the mouthpiece. “So that’s armor?”
“This is—” Allie came to a stop, staring at the black, denture-like appliance in her hands. “Um, no.”
“What is it then?”
A flush began to creep up Allie’s face, and she cleared her throat uncomfortably. “It’s, well, now that I paused to take a look at it, uh…”
“Tell her what it is,” Mack said, a dangerous edge entering his voice. Allie held up a hand defensively. “No, it’s not like that. It’s just, uh…” She held it up, and an embarrassed smile started to creep onto her lips. “It’s part of a necral pleasure skin.”
Juniper’s eyebrows shot up. “A… what?”