Pathfinder: Identity Crisis

Prologue

Prologue.

Darkness. Walls. A musky odor. Deafening silence, yet accompanied by the serenity of dripping water unto rocky and liquid surfaces. Undoubtedly haunting but yet, so seemingly peaceful in this dark tranquility of an atmosphere.

Interruption. The sound of footsteps, and painful moans from a distance.

The crackle of flames flaring away on a torch gradually disturbed the ongoing calmness in a revealed passageway with intricate glyphs engraved onto it's smooth surface. Two hooded figures clothed in heavy robes stumbled across the stone laiden floor. One of them stood upright with the torch in his left hand, but was slightly hunched as he constantly grasped the waist of the other on his right, apparently under a lot of stress and pressure with the way she weakly staggered at every step.

Despite her obvious agony, the figure in better stability quietly encouraged the female not to let out too much noise. That would have been a true feat, considering how much she had traversed previously in this present state.

But being as quiet as a mouse wasn't only impossible, it conflicted time and again with the labour pains that she bravely bore, and it continued rendering her senseless into a sombre rage, her steps becoming more wavy and distorted which made her collapse against the smooth walls at every interval of 3 to 4 shuffles. Her head constantly spun and her vision was blurry beyond the point of sight that it almost became blissful. It had been about an hour, but there was yet to feel numbness from the pain which prolonged within. The male figure however, never gave up and finally coaxed her into moving much quickly than before. He grabbed on to a section of his sleeve and bunched it up, making the female bite it in order to muffle her moans and forget her torment.

With the exception of the female's antagonizing vocals, very little noise was emitted from the male as he struggled with his companion. His goal was uncertain, but whatever business he had with the female seemed rather sneaky, yet somewhat important. Even at some point the female had even wondered how she had ended up with such a strange individual.

The duo continued to press on into the never ending darkness, until the male stopped. Holding his torch up to a certain glyph pattern on the wall to his right, he examined it for a moment, then nodded. ''We are here.'' he whispered, being the first few audible words he uttered throughout the entire journey. Using a fingernail, he began tracing the engraved pattern slowly. Once finished, he raised his fist and knocked beside the pattern which he traced on. No answer.

The constant rapping against the wall with his knuckles became louder thuds caused with the base of his fist. Time was already running out. By now the female had already collapsed from the exhaustion, breathing heavily as she temporarily rewarded herself from the torturous journey with the stiff cold wall against her body. But the labour pains were back, and the moaning became louder.

''Hey....open up...OPEN UP...'' the male whispered loudly, continuing to gently pound the wall with his fist. ''HEY OPEN UP!''

''HEY MAN, OPEN UP!''

Astonished from the sudden thumping on the door to his right, Virgil woke up, startled as the transition from that vision, or dream, into reality he just experienced seemed so....real, somehow. This was probably the fourth time he had seen this dream. A passageway. Two hooded figures. One of them in immense pain, and the other one tracing a carving on the wall.

What could all these possibly mean?

He sat upright on his chair, surrounded by the darkness in his room which reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke. It was already eerie enough to have someone knocking at his door in the middle of the night. Or was it?