Within the Catacombs of the Soul

Numb

His feet were already numb. He should have listened. Everyone had warned him with desperate words. “Don’t go!” they cried, “You’ll surely die!” Despite all that, Edward trudged on through the many feet of white, sharp snow. He was miles from the village of his origin and the pounds of heavy armor and rough cloth was beginning to weigh upon him. He let out a weighted grunt of effort and prodded the ground with the walking cane he grasped in gloved hands. 

Have you ever heard the howls? Not of a truthful hound, but of the wind as it races like a wolf off the hills and ledges in the mountains. It shrieks and screams as it sinks its daggers  into your bare flesh. It yells out and snarls as it leaps across the world, never daring to dip, but to fly and soar on its own ice. Edward heard the barking on the hills, which grew louder until they roared and howled with feral vigor.

Edward gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut as the wind let out another shriek and leapt at him, pouncing from the icy clouds above and onto him, slicing at his exposed throat. He clenched his teeth and staggered on. Another shriek announced another snap of the wind’s fanged maw. He let out a gasp of what little oxygen lingered and gasped for more as he traversed the mountainous surroundings. 

The young man’s foot hit a patch stone that peered up from beneath snow and slid, flying out like the birds he hunted in the village he hailed from. He let a cold tear run from his blistering eyes as his forehead contacted the icy stone. Edward cursed in the ancient tongue, now long forlorn, and restrained a yelp of pain as his vision became blotted by red. He wiped a trail of blood from his forehead with the back of his rough, hard worked hand. Through the pain, he threw off the pack he carried on his back, only for a howling gust to race past and steal it down the steep side of the mountain. He cried out in defeat, struggling to rise up onto his feet, only to slide down again. 

The weight of his armor was his only visible hinderance, so he tore it off. In a second of bliss from the weight, he fell back into the snow. It was similar to relief you feel as you let up on a secret you slaved over to protect. The bliss of relief was suddenly intercepted by the stinging, slicing pain shooting up his spine as the wolves of wind ravished him as he lay prone, nearly stripped in the snow. He grasped out for the staff he used as a walking stick, grasping at snow to no avail. He sat up abruptly, stripped of clothing on his torso, only to see the possessions he had gingerly lugged up the cliff racing down the side of the same cliff. 

He shrieked out in anger and pain as the wind clawed at his bare back, raising the hairs up his spine. It was like fangs ripping the blood from his veins. Stealing the warmth deep within his heart and freezing his red gore solid. It was a pain no one can imagine, and those who know it first hand would cry out in pain at just the thought. It was a brutal and painful pleasure that wracked his body, slicing him open from the inside out, but he had come this far, though, he should have listened, so he trudged onward. He clawed his way up, slipping every now and again. Soon, the horizon filled with the view of a peak. A peak shrouded in thunderous clouds, roaring in their own chorus with the winds. He cheered, though no one was there to hear his cheers. 

Edward clawed up the cliffs with new vigor to combat the howling wind. New hope the slice their own claws. He finally pulled himself over the cliff side. He was met with the beautiful relief only known as success. He looked out at the peak… so close… though he should have listened. He continued, beginning to feel the struggle of an airlessness in his lungs and a starvation in his stomach. Despite all of that, he trudged through the snow up to the peak. 

Once he came upon the peak he was met with a long lost relief. Warmth. The warmth brought only by roaring flames that rose triumphantly among the heavens. He breathed in the alien sulfurous musk of the peak that was spread across the wind, calming the howling to a quiet whisper. He looked out across the plateau of a mountain peak, like an island in the sky, to see a field of green grass, speckled with black. He spotted pink, purple, and blue flowers and massive redwoods that possessed brilliant, blood red leaves. A wide, weak grin spread across his face. 

Despite the beauty, he should have listened. Or maybe he shouldn’t have? It’s so weird to hear a laugh in your mind. A laugh that isn't yours. A deep, low, heavy chuckle ringing around your thoughts. A chortling laughter that spreads and echos in your skull. He then heard it then.

The massive beast of stone and grass raised his head and body. The creature was one of nature, emanating warmth and peace, though a strange stench of fear and mistrust wafted on warm gusts. It was humanoid in shape, though faceless, just a canvas of nature, with great beastial horns that the blood red pines took the form of, bright red leaves shedding from their branches. He rose to his full, massive height, raising the grass upon his back with it as the Earth itself peeled up. A whistle shrieked in Edward’s head as well. His windy hounds leaping faithfully to his rocky side. The twin wolves shook their icy fur, snow falling off and melting as it hit the ground. Wise, striking blue eyes peered into Edward’s soul. They howled happily and drooled ice and hail that froze the ground beneath their fall, only to melt and thaw. He lowered a rocky, large, clawed hand beckoning for Edward to join it on the slight incline it stood, tall and stoic upon. 

A deep, booming word was spoken into his head. Once more, just as strange and alien as the chortle earlier. The word was ‘Fate’. 

Edward wandered slowly up to the creature and looked into its blank, bright white eyes. The creature of rock, grass, and fern rose and stared blankly at the man in front of it. He grinned slowly, bright white fangs showing from beneath a rocky lip. Once he was close enough to Edward, he let down is long arm and hand, taking Edward’s. “Brave.” Again, an abstract speech, not native to his mind nor voice.

“Good luck.” The thought of words slipped into Edward’s mind. He shivered under the weight of the words. As he looked up at the creature, it slowly crumbled like the leaves falling off of a tree in late autumn. He stepped back slightly in shock. He stumbled off the ledge and fell, waving his arms like a man in the waves, shoved back against the shore. Pain struck his spine and skull as it collided with the ground. He could feel the warm, unwelcome feeling of crimson blood spreading behind his head, as his world spun and swiftly faded to a pitch, empty, black, void, though it was filled with a faint pain that lingered like dew in the morning. Pain no one would ever be able to forget, were they ever destined for a second chance at cruel life. Empty except for the throbbing pain, like an unshakable headache.

When light filtered back into his life, said light was different. It was bright and lively. He lifted himself onto his legs and sat up, but his arms felt long and numb. He lifted himself up, looking out. The peak seemed smaller, further away, though only because he seemed much, much taller. 

He heard four words more, though instead of ringing in his head, it was spoken like man would speak to another. In words and not thought. “Welcome and good luck.” He glanced at his hand to see a large, clawed hand, lanky and long and formed of rock and dirt. Small purple flowers had sprouted at his wrist. His feet were numb, along with his body itself. In fact, he couldn’t feel a thing… but no pain either. Nothing. But why should he care? He didn’t care to listen.