The map that Mefistofel stole is written in the ancient language of magic, known only to few.
Mefistofel knows the language of magic but even this one is too old for him to understand.
It shows different places to reach.
Once arrived at a location, the map would come alive and change again, revealing the next place.
It is made of a rough papyrus. If it ever got wet, it would dry instantly. If burnt, its ashes would gather and recreate the parchment again.
To those who don't know the language of magic, it could be but a mere piece of parchment.
The map shows the cave with the lake: the water twirling on the surface and the creatures moving around the map.
Then it keeps changing into a tunnel and again into the cave.
-"It's here. Somewhere in this cave."-
Mefistofel looks around the cave but his sharp eyes can't see anything.
There's a water witch drawn on the map and she keeps jumping from the edge of the lake into the water, then out of the water again.
Mefistofel keeps staring at the creature in and out of the water. The solution can only be one.
The steps should have given him the hint.
He doesn't like how dark it is, vampires don't breathe but can't move as fast in the water. What if there are more of those creatures? They would have been in advantage, they would have been very angry.
They would have surely taken their revenge then. And they would have made a feast of them.
Mefistofel stands by the edge of the cave, trying to look into that black depth.
His brothers follow him and they all stand at the edge.
-This is the only way, isn't it?-
-I cannot see any other way. Can you?-
No one replies. Nor does he take his eyes off the water.
Mefistofel tucks the map safely inside his shirt.
They decide to leave their bags and cloaks behind. They would have been in the way of swimming.
If there was a way back they would still be there waiting for them.
"If there was a way back" Mefistofel thought.
He looks at his brothers and with a nod they dived, one by one, in the darkness of that tunnel.
They have been swimming several minutes. The tunnel is so dark and long a human lung wouldn't survive that long without air.
It starts narrow at first and then it widens, allowing them to swim a few inches apart.
After a while, the dark blue of the water is changing into a clearer colour.
They must have been close to reaching the surface.
It should still be night time.
They swim what they seem to be miles and miles of endless water. The more they swim, more rocks and sands disappear and everything is just a vast canvas of blue.
Mefistofel can't help the feeling of being watched.
Had more of those creatures been around, they would have feasted on them by now.
Still Mefistofel can sense something is there with them.
Finally.
They can see the surface of the water breaking into twirls on the surface.
They have finally reached the top.
They can see the light of the moon shining over the water.
Once out of the water, their eyes have to adjust to the new light again.
It's another cave but it's so bright it seems the sun is shining inside.
They instinctively cover their eyes. Then a few seconds later they realise that whatever light that was, it's not hurting their eyes, or burning their skin.
It's the most beautiful light.
It is the most beautiful sight.
The walls are all covered in the most beautiful plants with flowers in their most beautiful blooms.
Fruit trees. Butterflies. Bees. Their buzz softly echoing in the air.
There is a marble fountain next to the lake, as high as the ceiling. The sound of its splashing water is so calming. A stone figure is carved on it. It is human-like, with wings. Its giant features dominate the cave. One arm is hanging on to the fountain with its claws digging inside the marble, the other arm stretched out holding a spear, as long as its wing can stretch.
It seems frozen in time, so alive. Seems to have been there for the purpose of guarding that place for centuries.
There are other similar statues. They are all carved on the rocks. They are almost completely buried by the vegetation.
The roots are crawling up the walls, creating beautiful ladders that cover even the ceiling.
It is a place abandoned for centuries.
There is a ladder that goes up to a tree, whose high branches cover the top of the cave with its pink and red flowers.
The source of that blinding light is up there.
It was a paradise, hidden so far away from the rest of the world.
Mefistofel and his brothers are mesmerised by this beauty.
His attention goes to the top of the cave, his gaze stays with the tree for a few seconds.
They make their way up to the tree.
The tree seems centenarian. The roots are so big they come out of the ground and create benches big enough to seat a few men.
Wild roses are crawling around the cave, embracing the other plants, adorning the statues with flowers on their heads.
Mefistofel approaches slowly, expecting anything to attack. The garden is so peaceful.
There's a hooded man, kneeling on, caring for those beautiful flowers.
Wearing a long hooded cape, old and muddy.
He tilts his head slightly to the side, realising the presence around him. He returns to his work, ignoring the presence around him. His bright eyes and deep circles reflect the light of the garden, his gaze as deep as the long ages he has lived.
He slowly gets up, tucking his arms inside his long sleeves.
Something glitters under the dirty cape.
His gaze is kind, but he still looks straight into every single warrior's eyes.
His gaze stays still with Mefistofel's eyes.
The same brightness, the same deepness, the same expression.
-Welcome my brothers. It's been a long time since I've seen another living soul.-
"Brothers." Mefistofel is puzzled by that word.
-Who are you?-
The man never lowers his gaze, staring directly at Mefistofel's bright gaze.
The light of that place reflects into their eyes like stars in a dark night.
-I am your forefather. My name is Arthion. The last soldier to survive the Great War. I have been living in this place for so long I had forgotten how Time has no end for our race.
He lowered his hood, revealing a long cascade of silver hair, a bronze circlet on his forehead.
His features are so beautiful, so ancient. Few signs of aging. His presence radiates wisdom.
-I can sense old magic in you. You come from the old race that has been cursed. You have endured pain and loss to find this place.-
He slowly approaches Mefistofel. Never lowering his gaze.
-You're great warriors. You carry the pain of your ancestors in your blood. Your thirst cannot be satiated. Your soul has abandoned your body. I can feel the magic of your Master, I can see the pain and endurance in your eyes. You come here to find something. I cannot pierce your minds. Why are you here, ancient warriors?-
-We are descendants of ancient Feldor. A war is spreading in the human world. If we don't fight our race cannot survive. We need to be free from this curse so we can put an end to this war.
Queen Elynia has guided us here to find you and the weapon that can win this war and release us from this curse. You were the last survivor of the War. You saw what happened that day. You saw the destruction and the Death of that day. It will happen again. You know what the weapon was. You know how to use it. You know where it is.-
Arthion's eyes and Mefistofel's are locked into each other.
-You speak of war but no victory. You speak of humans, but no ancient race. You visited Queen Elynia realm. What did you see?- the words sound so soft and so determined to find the truth.
-Death. Mourn. Despair. Abandon. Surrender.-
-That is what I see in your eyes, warrior. Your eyes are filled with those too. You do not believe in winning this war. You believe in fighting it because it's your nature. You do not believe in Peace. You believe in revenging your master. There's a faint light of hope in your eyes. I can see it extinguishing right now. I can see surrender in your heart.... You do not believe you'll see her again.-
Mefistofel looks directly at the man's eyes. They are crystal clear, like a midnight moon reflection in water. But they reveal no feelings. No pain or anger, no joy or grief. Nothing.
The only hope that kept him going through all the endurances and all the fights of his existence.
Her raven hair flowing in the wind, her sky blue eyes looking at him with feelings only humans can have.
Was she still alive? Was she safe? Was she still fighting?
-I cannot see the future. I cannot linger on the past. My master has fought for our race for centuries. I am his descendant. I will fight for him because that was his wish. I will protect my brothers and the world he loved and protected. I will use the weapon to end this war and I will make our race free from the curse that has bound us for so long. But I need your help. The war is spreading, our race is vanishing. There are humans who fight for this world and we'll fight with them. Tell us where the weapon is and how to use it.
Make us free of our curse. Fight with us!-
Arthion looks deep into his eyes. A faint smile lies on his face.
-I can hear Feldor's pride in your voice. Queen Elynia has chosen her warriors well....
You are right, there's a war spreading. Even down here I can feel the pain of the world. It's so great and so
powerful, it's the very pain that pushes humans to fight for hope. I have been down here for so long and feel the pain rising every day. I have felt the world shaking when Ancient Feldor lost his life. The Balance of the world is crumbling. The ancient Powers are about to die if the descendants perish. I can see the old magic fighting for this world that Ancient Feldor loved so much. There's still hope. But it's a faint one.-
-Arthion. Where's the weapon?-
-It was hidden in plain sight to the human world. It is not a weapon. It is part of someone! Whose Powers so great, he is the only one able to control it in the deep of his heart. In the deepest of his spirit. The weapon that was used during the Great War was the heart of our beloved King. His heart was destined, from the beginning of Life, to be the reliquary that contained all the power of the Ancients.
Once Death claimed his spirit, his Power was able to break free from chains and destroy the enemy.
The first of the cursed race. The one who created his own disciples from Death, so one day he could have his army to fight the war again.
The same one who created you, Mefistofel, from Death. The same one who has been your master for centuries and has taught you all you know.
He created you so one day you could fight his war once again. His heart contains all the Powers of the ancient race, as his ancestor did.-
Those words echo like a thunders inside Mefistofel's ears. -It cannot be......-
-You know of whom I speak. You buried him in the deep of the forest.-
