The Way of All Flesh

Chapter Fourteen

On the other side of the door was a staircase. It had been thick and heavy upon opening, too much for her to hold open any longer than to simply step through, and had shut with powerful noise that sent chills down her spine. The stairs made her feel no better. One light seemed to illuminate the entire expanse of curved steps, a lantern placed just a few feet down from the door. Where the stairs turned seemed to be veiled in a thick shadow.

With a cautious step, Naomi started her descent.

As soon as the light left her, Naomi kept a hand firmly on the wall so as not to trip over her own feet. She felt almost grateful for the short length of her dress, it felt like the one thing keeping her from tumbling down however far the stairs were leading her.

They weren't all that long, eventually depositing her at another hallway with another lantern before her. The light felt like a haven, as though whatever she would find couldn't be so bad if she had the dim lanterns glow beside her. Eventually, there was a final door and without hesitation, she entered.

On the other side was a sight unlike anything she had seen before.

It was as if she were faced with another city. Large stone structures lifted up cavernous walls, the ceiling seeming to be like an artificial sky. Pillars reached from the earth like giants, holding the earth back from collapsing into the structures below. It seemed just as real as the city above, yet the ground beneath them seemed more damp and overgrown than the stone roads of the city above. The lower city seemed to be situated inside some sort of swamp, completely encompassed as far as Naomi could see by cavernous walls. Something about the city felt inherently wrong, as if this secret world shouldn't be there. As if it simply wasn't possible for there to be such a cave, filled with such things, existing right beneath the world above.

The more Naomi stepped forward the more she considered that it wasn't real. Could she have fallen, collapsed, passed out, been enchanted in some way?

No, it was real.

She assumed, by the way the halls and stairs had twisted and turned, that she was inside the base of the mountain. Never before had she heard anything about caves within The Midpoint, let alone a city built within one.

The most striking thing about the underground city was the emptiness of it. There were enough buildings around to, in theory, support a whole miniature civilization. And yet there wasn't a single person to be seen throughout the road. There was no stone on the road, with tall grass reaching up through the gaps between buildings.

Naomi couldn't shake the feeling that she shouldn't be there. Even if it was real, that didn't change the fact that there was some reason no one was there. And why no one ever spoke about the hidden world.

She urged herself to be silent.

There was no movement around her, the air of the cavern utterly still. It seemed strange that the rain hadn't followed her, as if her brain kept waiting for the downpour to continue and was simply met with nothing. She continued her aimless wander through the stone buildings, the only light around her coming from inside them.

And then there was a noise.

It was so simple, yet just enough to pierce through the silence that surrounded her. It caused the hair on her arms to stand up, sending a chill across her flesh. A soft, almost nonexistent clinking of chains, most likely jewelry.

She turned her head sharply towards the noise. Standing in the doorway to one of the buildings was a girl, no more than fourteen, dressed in a simple blue dress with her arms covered in silver bangles. Naomi thought it strange that she hadn't heard the door, nor the girl approaching it, only the slight collision of her bracelets. The girl's face was blank, her eyes entirely distant, and she stood perfectly still. They locked eyes for a moment, the girl staying silent.

"I'm here to see Fox," Naomi said, hearing a confidence in her own voice that surprised her.

The girl simply nodded and, with no indication that Naomi should follow, turned back into the building she stood at. And yet Naomi approached the door. She had nowhere else to go. Another small wave of confusion hit her as the door creaked open at her touch, louder than any noise she had heard in the hidden city before.

Inside, she followed the girl through a well decorated living room, though like the castle she had stayed at everything was coated in a thin layer of dust. It was as if it were a dollhouse, all dressed up with no real purpose. By the time the girl stopped walking, Naomi found herself fed up with being led through corridors. If no one gave her a straight answer soon, she was going to scream. The girl still said nothing to her as she stood before a door, moving her hand slowly up one of her arms so the bangles of her wrist made a soft melodic jingle.

Naomi nodded to her as a thank you, concealing her mental exhaustion, and opened the door. Again it opened with a whining creak.

Inside was what appeared to be an office, fitting with a desk and some plush looking chairs. Two chairs, to be exact, facing the red wood desk which was carved with the intricate pattern of a flowering vine. There was one lantern, burning very dull, which casted an eerie glow across the tiny room. The air inside was almost chokingly thick, as if the room had been filled with smoke. As soon as she stepped foot inside, Naomi wanted to leave. Everything about the space seemed to be begging her to leave it.

What especially concerned her was the silent figure sitting at the desk. Whoever it was had turned to face the wall opposite the door, looking at a large painting of what appeared to be the king's castle in Varla. It was impressively realistic, capturing even the way the sunlight reflected the sea's waves onto the pearl white walls. For a moment, Naomi also found herself lost in it, as if looking could somehow send her there. Somewhere she would be able to breathe.

"I don't usually enjoy visitors," The figure at the desk spoke, his voice almost as wistful as the painting. "But when they told me who you were, I couldn't resist,"

Naomi felt her body tense up.

"Who I am?"

The figure laughed, deep and suffocating in sound.

He stood up from the chair, face still firmly trained on the painting before them. Then, with one swift motion, he brought his hand to the canvas and clawed the paper away with his nails. Left behind was only an animalistic tear through the center of the lovely scene.

"I've never been to Varla," he said as he began to rip off more bits of canvas. "Is it possible to hate something you've never seen? I suppose that's a good question, isn't it, traveler?"

The man turned towards her.

All the blood rushed out of Naomi's face when she saw him. It took her a second to realize why she recognized the man and the horrid, scarred flesh before her. He had been in Sallon, watching from the bedroom window as she scampered clumsily away from the angry innkeeper. The burn on his face reminded her. Ever since she had first seen him, she hadn't been able to get the image out of her head. When she dreamt, it was of the disfigured man who stood before her.

"What is this place?" Naomi asked, her voice quick with a slight panic. She ignored the question the man had posed, though assumed it to be hypothetical anyway.

"They call it The Bog," He said without hesitation, a playful look on his face like he enjoyed her curiosity.

"You're Fox?"

He chuckled again, stepping across to the other side of the desk.

"Here I thought you might be more clever than that,"

She felt almost insulted, though nothing Fox said seemed to truly carry much weight. Resting against the front of the desk, he held out a glass of something towards her. It was a deep, purple liquid she assumed to be wine. Hesitantly, she took his offering, though she didn't take a sip.

"You run the thieves guild, don't you,"

He waved his hand dismissively.

"I run a thieves guild, one could say I suppose." He took a sip from his own glass. "There's many across Cantien, and I'm not everywhere at once. But yes, The Bog is home to my people, and The Midpoint is the largest chapter,"

Setting the glass back on the desk, he gave an uncomfortable look and began to study the paint that now crusted his fingers.

(This is the end of what was written originally for Nanowrimo 2021. Thank you for reading!)