Chương 238: Chapter 234: The Nightmare

"You want to sacrifice me?" Nyxalrai asked.

"Oh no, please don't." Despite her impeccable acting, Nyxalrai caught the harbinger's eyes latching onto her, brows furrowing.

"No. We will not," the seemingly suspicious woman said. The others glanced amongst themselves, clearly dismayed. Apparently, as soon as the idea had been brought up, they were all onboard. Only their hesitant glances to the harbinger showed why they didn't immediately refute her. They were scared of her. Not Touza. Well, he was probably just as terrified of her as the rest, but he retained an expression of reluctance at the idea of sacrificing this random girl they'd just found.

Maybe there was some hope for him yet.

"Why not?" the one who suggested it asked, doing his best not to sound like he was disregarding her authority. The woman was silent for a moment. Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly.

"I'm not letting this job go any longer than it needs to. Either slice her throat, or let her go. Don't drag this out."

"But this is a once in a decade opportunity! When are we next gonna find some kid wandering Coral's depths unguarded?" The harbinger gave the man a withering look. There was not an ounce of respect for the people she was with in those eyes.

"Tell me, imbecile, how many people have you sacrificed in your life?" She didn't wait for an answer.

"None. I don't need to know anything about you to know it is none. Preparing human sacrifices, especially unevolved ones, is a tedious process that requires special expertise. Unless you were planning to toss her in as a general ingredient and lose the vast majority of her value? Then what was the point of a human sacrifice at all?" Nyxalrai watched the woman lose it at her compatriots. The harbinger really didn't like them. Clearly this had been boiling over long before Nyxalrai had arrived.

As much as she was putting on her best 'scared, defenceless girl' face, Nyxalrai wished she had snacks.

"You want some of that expertise? You'll be taking her all the way to the Library. The Archive won't have her; a ritual with human sacrifices around young acolytes is a disaster waiting to happen. Do you have a way to ward off the corruption so she isn't broken goods before you arrive? Do you think that you'll be able to convince someone with that expertise to help without the cult finding out? No." She sneered down at them.

"Now if I have to hear a single more of your idiotic ideas, or you so much as question me again, I will lash out. You do not want to see what my scrolls can do to a man." Nyxalrai did. She really did. But before she could figure out a way to push the woman's final buttons and see what terrible, horrifying rituals a fourth evolution might have, the harbinger stormed past Nyxalrai. The five non-harbingers watched her walk away, none daring to speak… until she was out of immediate hearing range.

"Fuck I hate getting stuck with harbingers," the fearless one murmured. Clearly, he didn't expect her to have a name for better hearing.

"It's always worse when they have two or more evolutions on us," another joined his grumbling.

"Always thinking we're worms. At least normal cultists of that level give you a chance to impress upon them."

"So you're not going to sacrifice me?" Nyxalrai said, intentionally dragging the Scriptures attention back to her. She let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. Breath vapour rolled from her lips and sank, despite not having breathed any air in days. Then, she decided to mess with them.

"Are harbingers really that bad?" She'd made sure to ask loud enough for the angered woman to hear. Unfortunately, she made no reaction. Strange. Was the harbinger deaf? The other Scriptures though? Their reactions were far more enjoyable. The one she thought had some sliver of hope immediately slid up besides her and clasped a hand over her mouth, looking about as panicked as the other four.

Even the dumb fearless man suddenly froze, his head twisting slowly — amusingly — towards the woman Nyxalrai had no doubt could kill each of these men and women without any trouble. Nyxalrai had to hold herself back from biting off the offending hand. Her lips sealed tight to stop any acid accidentally burning through Touza. As much as she despised being grabbed like this, she was finding this entire scenario too entertaining.

"Are you trying to get us all killed?" Touza hissed into her ear. Or at it, but he had no way to know she had antennae rather than proper ears. She glanced up at him and considered if she should remind him that they had all just talked about using her as a sacrifice. If she really was her unevolved self again, there was a very good chance that's exactly what she would have done. The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Instead, Nyxalrai continued her scared, naive act by whipping her head back and forth.

"No," she said as his hand slipped from her face.

"Don't sacrifice me." Given the way he was looking down at her, Touza was actually feeling a little guilty. Everyone here was going to die, but maybe he didn't have to. She could have him swear off the cult, then send him to the Cultless. First, she had to test him.

"I promise I won't tell Tarchon you tried to sacrifice me." She made sure not to add inflections to his name. He typically didn't introduce himself that way when he interfered with the wards.

"The huge Technocult guy made a big deal about it the last time someone got nabbed." Was she being too obvious? Thankfully, Tarchon's reputation preceded him, regardless of Nyxalrai's impeccable delivery. The faces before her all went pale.

"Okay, we cannot let her leave alive," the woman amongst them said.

"I'm not risking the walking weapon himself getting a whiff of this."

"The cult will protect us." One said, but his tone lacked confidence.

"No they won't. We're not nearly important enough to be worth getting in his way." Huh. She'd seen it before, but Tarchon really terrified the other cults. Nyxalrai almost felt jealous that they'd seemingly forgotten about 'The Nightmare' at his mention. She rolled her shoulders. Her wings shifted beneath her robe, unfurling ever so slightly. Well, she did bring him to the forefront of their focus, so she would forgive the lumbering wall of steel.

"He's not going to chase us down for not killing a kid, is he?" Touza tried to be the voice of reason. Unfortunately, the other four were beyond that.

"Who knows what that psychopath will do? I'm taking no risks." The foolishly fearless one pushed past Touza and grabbed Nyxalrai by the neck. He lifted her easily, bringing her to eye-level.

"If we can't sacrifice her, but she's going to die anyway, we can at least skin her. I'm not missing out on human parchment." Nyxalrai didn't flail. She didn't choke or scream. Calmly — as if she wasn't currently being squeezed at the neck — she twisted her head to Touza. He wasn't interfering. Disappointing. Her tail, which had been holding the majority of her weight, snapped off the ground and curled around her legs. The man lifting her suddenly fell forward, unbalanced.

His shoulder rammed into Nyxalrai's chest as her feet struck the ground with a clang. From any reasonable viewpoint, the well-built man should have flattened the petite girl. She didn't so much as budge. He impacted her like she was a wall, and tumbled sideways.

"Wha…?" The formerly steadfast man wasn't hurt, but he stared up from the ground and blinked. He couldn't comprehend what just happened. The others weren't dealing with what they'd seen well either. They gaped. Their little group's pillar had crumpled under the weight of a kid. As they called her. Nyxalrai was unbothered. Her eyes never left Touza's.

"Will you save me?" she asked.

"Are you willing to discard your cult to protect someone who can't protect themselves?" Touza's jaw worked, but no sounds came out. His eyes flickered between her and his fellow cultists. He was looking for the right answer, the one that he wanted to do, but would also not bring about risk to himself. When his eyes landed back on Nyxalrai, she knew the decision he had made. Touza was a coward.

Cowards unwilling to take the step to fight what they believed was wrong, even when given such a perfect opportunity, did not deserve to be saved from their cults. Nyxalrai exhaled again. This time, the mist that flowed from her didn't escape the cultists' notice. Between the fall of their fellow, her missing terror, and this growing fog hanging below their knees, the Scriptures took a step back. Far too late, they realised something was wrong with this girl they found wandering Coral alone.

"Fuck!" instead of from any of the five around her, the voice came echoing down the tunnel behind her.

"No. No. No!" They all turned to find the harbinger scrambling backwards. She'd fallen on her back. The woman desperately tried to get her feet under her again. Ah. She'd finally turned the corner.

"It's a bloodless slaughter-scene!" she shouted as she ran back towards their group.

"The Nightmare. It's here!" The harbinger sprinted back far faster than she'd left.

"The Nightmare," she repeated, softer, as she slowed. Her eyes suddenly finding Nyxalrai. It was almost funny, how clarity and terror seemed to enter the woman's eyes at the same time. Her head shifted, as if tracing the path Nyxalrai came from. Right back to the horrorscape she'd just seen.

"I guess you figured me out." Nyxalrai shrugged with a shake of her head. A small smile settled on her lips.

"No point hiding now."

"What are you talking about?" the fearless man, now back on his feet, asked with a tinge of fear. It seemed he was slow. Nyxalrai breathed in the void. Her lungs expanded with the non-existent pressure. As she breathed out, a pair of sheaths in the roof of her mouth widened, unleashing a stream of dense mist from her new glands. The fog crashed out from her lips like breaking waves.

So much thicker than the previous breaths, it expanded through the vacuum, spiralling around her form as it reached for the cultists around her and fell. Too much haze streamed from her glands. She could feel the clogging at the back of her throat. Soon, it spilled from her nose as well… against her desire. The fog was not black. Nor was it white. Yet when her shadow began to expand, encapsulating the cultists still in the disbelief stage of their terror, the haze took on her shadow's nature.

It filled the world around her, and instilled a nature alien to the norm. Beyond it. Nyxalrai's chest flexed. Long, bony rib-teeth shredded through the front of her robe as her cloak was thrown off in a flutter. In the absence of cloth, her wings spread. Her beautiful wings. Larger now, the masses of feathers reached into the grasping shadow surrounding her. The further from her, the more her feathers seemed to fade seamlessly into darkness, as if they were made of shadow itself. Not her red feathers.

Those melted to blood, spilling streams of red through her dark void. Yog was all too happy with that aspect of her mutated wings. Five eyes with intense burning spirals peeled open on Nyxalrai's face to peer hungrily down upon the unlucky cultists. They would all die. Finally, the terror ignited the Scriptures' flight. They screamed. They ran. But there was nothing that could save them now. A burning realm of pink opened in the centre of that dark storm they would never escape.

To those six cultists, The Nightmare was more terrifying than any hushed whisper could portray.