The Curse of Blackbane Valley

Short Story: The Curse of Blackbane Valley

The night was dark and freezing in Blackbane Valley, a forsaken place in the land of Valanor. The eerie peaks of the surrounding mountains loomed through the mist, casting ghostly shadows against the night sky. The wind, though silent, whispered through the desolate valley, its echoes lost in the void. Legend tells of a curse laid upon this land by Mutrix, the Goddess of Darkness. Those who perish here are condemned, their souls denied by Viros, unable to reach Antrix and the afterlife. Even the most malevolent Tormati seems less grim than the depths of this accursed place.

Where the grasslands yield to shadowy waters, a voice broke the heavy silence. The stillness of the waters was absolute. A middle-aged man, clad in a long brown coat, rowed toward the shore in a weathered old boat, his torch flickering against the darkness. As he anchored his vessel to a jagged stone with frayed rope, the voice that shattered the silence echoed once more, drawing him further into the valley. He appeared timid, unaware of his surroundings, driven by a singular, desperate purpose.

Leaving his boat in the fog, the man pressed on, quickening his pace as the voice lured him to the entrance of a cavern, where mold clung to the earth in place of grass. A stench of decay and rot emanated from the cave, so foul that even the Boglets shunned it. For the first time, fear etched itself onto the man's face. He stepped back, drawing a rusted shortsword from the scabbard at his hip. With the sword in one hand and the torch in the other, he ventured into the cave, a blend of courage, fear, and foolishness guiding his steps.

Deeper into the tunnel, under the suffocating embrace of Mutrix's curse, he stumbled upon bones scattered across the ground and dried blood puddles. His pace slowed with each step, the air growing thicker with the stench of death. Blood dripped from the cavern's ceiling, and as the man looked up, he saw bodies hanging by their necks from the stalactites, their blood still seeping into the ground.

The voice that once sang now turned to chanting in a language unknown to the man. Terrified, he screamed, "GIVE MY DAUGHTER BACK!" His words echoed through the cave, but as the final word left his lips, the chanting ceased. A high-pitched, malevolent laugh reverberated through the darkness, sending shivers down his spine. Trembling, drenched in sweat, the man braced himself for what lay ahead. Suddenly, purple eyes, glowing two meters above the ground, pierced through the shadows and fixed on him. "Dertis ge'falrich aal di macj daa'rtem..." the creature snarled.

Summoning every ounce of his strength, the man charged at the towering figure, driving his ancient sword into its flesh. The creature screamed, a piercing wail, but swiftly retaliated, its vicious claws slashing across the man's face. As he struggled to wrench his sword free, the monster struck again, ripping out his left eye. The man screamed in agony, collapsing to his knees, blood pouring from the gaping wound on his face. The creature's claws came for him again, this time slashing his throat. The man gasped and gurgled, falling to the ground as he bled out.

A twisted, dark purple hand, covered in mold and tipped with sharp, jagged nails, grasped the dead man by his legs, dragging him deeper into its lair. The silence of Blackbane Valley returned, the curse unbroken, and if one listened closely, they could hear the high-pitched voice singing in the distance once more...