Capítulo 15: The Whisper pt.7
Edric could feel every muscle screaming in protest as he pushed himself forward. His legs felt like lead, each step a monumental effort as the dark influence of the temple sapped his strength. He cast a glance at Kyrntar disappearing into the shadows ahead, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on his shoulders. It's all on me now, he thought, and the realization only made the burden heavier.
Marra's body slumped against him, her eyes distant, trapped in a nightmare he couldn't see. Her lips moved, but the words that escaped were incomprehensible, broken fragments of fear and confusion. She was lost, consumed by whatever darkness had claimed her psyche, and Edric had no idea how long she would last. Or how long I will, a murmur whispered in his head, but he forced it aside. Now wasn't the time for doubt.
His breath came in shallow gasps, sweat pouring down his face, mixing with the dirt and grime that clung to his skin. Every step toward the exit felt like wading through quicksand, his body threatening to collapse under the strain. His arms ached as they supported Marra's weight, his knees buckling more than once as they stumbled over the uneven stone floor. He cursed under his breath, feeling the oppressive darkness creeping closer, like a thousand unseen eyes watching his every move.
"Come on, Marra," he muttered through gritted teeth, more to himself than to her. "Just a little further... I've got you. I've got you."
But in truth, he didn't know if he had her—or himself. His body screamed for rest, for the sweet release of giving up, but he pushed the thought away, grinding his teeth against the pain that tore through him. He couldn't afford to stop. Not now. Not with her life depending on him.
Marra's head lolled to the side, her hands twitching as if reaching for something only she could see. Her breathing was shallow, quickened by the terror gripping her heart. Edric tightened his hold on her, fear twisting in his gut. She was slipping further away, and he didn't know how to pull her back. He wasn't sure if he could.
But he had to keep moving. He had to.
His vision blurred, the dim light of the temple flickering as the darkness seemed to pulse around them, like the walls themselves were alive, breathing the malevolent force that had nearly broken them all. The chant in his head, the one that had once whispered, now roared, urging him to let go, to give in. "You're not strong enough. You'll fail. She's already lost."
But Edric refused to listen. He couldn't let himself believe it. His legs shook as he pressed forward, each step a victory in itself. The exit seemed miles away, though it was only mere yards. Every inch felt like a mile. His lungs burned with every breath, and his arms trembled with the effort of keeping Marra upright.
He stumbled, nearly dropping her as his foot caught on a broken piece of stone. His heart lurched in his chest as they both nearly hit the ground. "No!" he hissed through clenched teeth, forcing himself to steady. He couldn't afford to fall—not now, not when they were so close.
"Come on," he whispered again, his plea cracking with desperation. "Just a little more, Marra... I won't leave you behind. I won't."
He could feel his strength fading, the weight of her body pressing down harder with every step. His knees threatened to buckle, and his vision tunneled, but he pushed forward, driven by nothing more than sheer willpower and the knowledge that if he stopped, they both might not make it out.
Marra let out a soft, incoherent murmur, her body growing heavier, almost limp in his arms. Heartbreaking tension clawed at Edric's chest, his breath coming in short, frantic bursts. "Stay with me," he begged, his heart thick with fear. "Please, Marra, stay with me."
The exit was close now, but it felt impossibly far. His muscles screamed in agony, and the shadows seemed to close in tighter, as though the darkness itself was trying to drag them back into its depths.
But Edric wouldn't stop. He couldn't. Even as his body threatened to give out, even as his soul teetered on the edge of collapse, he pushed on. For Marra. For Kyrntar. For their survival.
As they neared the outer chambers, Edric felt a sliver of hope—a flicker of light at the end of this nightmare. His body was barely holding together, muscles screaming, lungs burning, but he was so close. Just a few more steps, and they'd be free from this cursed place.
But then Marra's eyes snapped open.
They weren't the warm, familiar eyes he'd known since childhood—no, these were wide and wild, pupils blown with terror. They darted around the room, unfocused, and filled with a manic, frenzied energy. Her breathing grew sharp and ragged, each inhale sounding more like a panicked gasp.
"Marra?" he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. He felt the change in her, a shift in the air. Something was wrong—very wrong.
Before he could take another step, Marra's body twisted violently in his grip. Her fist came crashing toward him, a blur of motion before he even realized what was happening.
CRACK.
The blow connected with his ribs, sending shockwaves of pain through his entire body. It felt like fire igniting in his bones, spreading through his chest like molten metal. Edric gasped, stumbling back, his breath stolen from his lungs as he clutched his side. The world spun for a moment, the walls of the temple warping, closing in, suffocating him with their weight.
"Marra—!" He tried to shout, tried to reach her, but his plea came out in a strangled wheeze. She wasn't listening—she wasn't there.
As Kyrntar walked away, the sounds of Edric's struggle and Marra's panicked strikes were swallowed into the oppressive silence of the temple. Shadows pressed in from all sides, the air thick with dark energy that coiled tighter with each step. The malevolent force pulsed ahead, growing stronger, more sinister, but Kyrntar's grip on his sword only hardened.
They'll make it out, he told himself, pushing forward, his focus sharpening. Edric and Marra were strong. They had to survive. Kyrntar would end this darkness, whatever it was. He had to—for them.
With each step, the weight of the ancient evil thickened, but Kyrntar pressed on, determined. He couldn't look back. He could only hope, and fight.
The air in the outer chamber thickened with tension, pressing in on Edric as he faced Marra, whose eyes were wild with fear and confusion. Every swing she threw was erratic, but the force behind them was enough to knock the breath from him. His heart raced with desperation—if he didn't act soon, he wouldn't survive this.
His thoughts screamed in confusion. Why is this happening? Marra... it's me!
Her fist came crashing toward him again, and Edric barely managed to raise his arm in time. The blow landed hard, sending a shockwave of pain through his already weakened body. He staggered backward, gasping, every muscle trembling with exhaustion. She was relentless, her strength far beyond what he could handle in his state. Her next strike landed squarely on his shoulder, and Edric collapsed to the ground, the cold stone scraping his skin as he fell.
I have to stop her... I have to save her...
But how? His thoughts spun in a chaotic swirl, his body aching with every breath. The darkness clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to drag him down, but he couldn't let go—not now. Desperation gripped him as he whispered the words to Cure Wounds, his voice barely audible over the pounding in his head. His hand glowed faintly as he pressed it against Marra's arm, sending a ripple of divine healing through her body.
For a moment, her movements faltered. Edric dared to hope, his chest tightening with the sliver of relief. But then she shuddered violently, her eyes widening in horror as the dark influence twisted deeper into her soul.
"You... you're the enemy," she growled, her words, empty and distorted, barely her own. Edric's heart sank as her fists raised once more, wild and unrelenting. Her next strike came faster, fueled by fear, confusion, and something far darker than he could reach.
Edric braced himself, knowing with sickening certainty that he might not make it out this time. His thoughts was a whirlwind of pain and sorrow, torn between the friend he had once known and the twisted force that now controlled her.
Marra... please...
The air thickened with an oppressive weight, pressing down on Edric as the dark voice inside his head roared louder, its promises like venom dripping into his soul. "Use it... the amulet... it will save you." The words echoed, relentless, driving nails into his already fractured psyche. His vision swam, the pain searing through his body like a wildfire, blurring the edges of reality. His hand trembled, fingers brushing against the cooled metal of the dragon amulet, the voice tempting him with promises of power beyond his understanding.
But then there was Marra. Her face—once so familiar, so warm—was a hollow mask now, her eyes dead, violet with the poison of the dark influence that had claimed her. Her hands, once used to heal and protect, now flickered with flames, not warmth but a scorching, relentless blaze.
Edric gasped as the fire erupted from her palms, the radiant heat turning his armor into a burning cage. The flames licked at his skin, searing, blistering, consuming. He screamed, the sound tearing from his throat as agony wracked his body, the fire eating away at what little strength he had left. His head begged for release, for an end to the torment, but the voice only grew louder.
"Take the power... use it... survive."
Desperation clawed at him. He had no choice. He had to stop her. With a final, frantic burst of energy, he swung his sword, the blade connecting with her shoulder in a clean, desperate strike. It wasn't enough. She staggered, but only for a moment, her violet eyes locking onto him, filled with something far beyond madness—an emptiness that terrified him more than the flames.
Edric's heart raced. He felt the world slipping away, his limbs heavy, his breath shallow. He could hear the monster gnawing at the edges of his consciousness, commanding him, "The amulet... the power... it's yours." But as his trembling hand reached for it, he looked at Marra once more, and the memories flooded back—of their shared dreams, their promises, their hope. The woman he loved was still in there, somewhere, buried beneath the malevolent force that twisted her heart.
He hesitated. His hand dropped away from the amulet, the decision hanging in the air like a noose tightening around his throat. He couldn't fight her. Not like this. Not with that cursed power.
Marra, her expression eerily deadpan, reached for him. Her eyes, glowing with a sickly violet hue, fixated on the amulet, drawn to it like a moth to flame. The twisted influence surged through her, amplifying her every movement, every breath. Her fingers wrapped around the amulet, and Edric felt the darkness within it stir, hungry for control.
He collapsed to his knees, vision darkening, the flames from Marra's hands still lingering in his flesh. His last thoughts were not of himself but of Kyrntar. He whispered a prayer, his cry barely audible, "Save her... please."
As Marra's trembling hands gripped the amulet, dark energy poured into her like a black tide, swallowing her whole. Her body shuddered, her breath ragged, as the corrupting force twisted through her veins. She stood over Edric, the woman he had loved gone, replaced by something else, something ancient and cruel.
The last thing Edric saw was the violet glow of her eyes, burning into the darkness, as everything else faded away.
Marra, now fully consumed by the power of the amulet, begins her slow, determined walk back into the depths of the temple. The dark energy swirling within her compels her forward, and her steps echo through the ancient halls. She is no longer herself but an avatar of the temple's sinister will.
Estado de energía semanal
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