Delirium
Written by Mystrick.
In search of her missing father, a young Voidseer learns of a fate far more terrible than she could’ve ever imagined.
Whispers echoed through the deepest parts of the Darkling caves.
Crypt’s ears flattened against her skull as the air began to still the further down she went, growing thick and stagnant and damp from the waters that rested well beneath the surface of Theavia. She had already searched Cassiopian with her mother days before, and, still, there was no sign of Father. Things had been strange since his trip to the surface days before, but they thought he had been doing better!
She Who Is Nothing did not warn her of this. She Who Is Nothing did not tell Crypt that Father would be missing for days. But Crypt still heard whispers—perhaps created from her own fears—of ‘Cryptozoa’ in the depths of the caves, and, against her mother’s wishes, she had to know. Her visions did nothing, but if Father’s own had somehow gotten him lost in that darkness, she had to bring him back, no matter the risks.
The last time Crypt was down this far, she had been with Harbinger, before Harbinger had gone missing. Was that the fate of all of them? To vanish without a trace, leaving behind those they knew who were left wondering what had become of them? Her coat stood on end as she landed on one of the stalactites on the ceiling of the caves, claws gripping onto the rough surface as she tried to settle her nerves.
Think clearly, she thought, curling her wings up as she let out a loud call, hearing it echo through the tunnels. There was no reply—she was in the deepest parts of the caves, a place she had once hoped she’d never have to see. This was where the lost Voidseers were drawn. How many skeletons were down here from those who had never been found?
Ironic, that it was a Darkling named Crypt that was searching these pitch-black pathways. Perhaps She Who Is Nothing had been the one to suggest the name to Father. If only She would have spoken to Crypt before now, had told her where Father had gone off to. If only She cared enough to protect Her own Voidseers.
Releasing the stalactite, Crypt continued her flight down the tunnels, letting out another call to try and get any sort of response from her father. Her wings ached. Her chest burned. If she didn’t find him soon, she’d probably join Father in the morgue that these lower caves had become.
Perhaps luck was on her side, though—she heard the sound of clacking teeth echoing quietly against the stone.
Crypt landed and let out a few deep, rasping coughs, hearing the sound of biting stop as soon as it started.
“Wait! Wait, is that you, Father?” she called, standing on her hind legs and trying to see in the darkness. It was pitch black down here, but she could still see enough to catch the stumbling figure of a Darkling, their body swaying slowly as they looked in her direction. She heard a quiet noise, like a groan or a hum, coming from the shadows as the Darkling moved slowly, their wings heavy on the ground. They were keeping their distance from the small stream that cut through the stone, flinching away as they nearly stumbled into it.
Crypt watched in near-silence before she spoke again. “Is that you?”
“Crypt…”
She knew that voice. Crypt’s heart leapt as her father shook his head out, and she slowly began to make her way toward him. He was alive, even if he was--
Crypt froze where she was. Something acidic and sour pricked at her nose, like old meat and fruit that had gone bad long ago. Her father still swayed, his claws scraping on the floor. The quiet shrieks of rocks filled her ears—she pinned them once more, trying to block out the noise.
“Father?” she asked quietly, side-stepping him as he paced toward her, though he was stumbling still, eyes blinking rapidly. She got close enough to see his face as he re-steadied himself, almost unaware of her presence.
His eyes were dull, but they were the same as they had been days before. No new stars, still more like the night sky than anything else. Drool collected across his mouth, frothing up in places and falling in sickly strands closer to his nose. He snapped at the air lightly once more as she inhaled sharply. The sour smell blanketed him.
“You’re sick,” she said softly, still keeping her distance. “We need to get you back to the rest of the Darklings. They can help you…”
Crypt’s voice echoed back at her as she quieted. Her gaze rested on his shoulder, where a patch of once-white fur had been growing for as long as Crypt could remember. She had spent so many days comparing that patch to some of her own, finding it funny how different they looked despite once being so similar. It had only been a few days ago when Mother had been tending to that shoulder, dealing with a minor bite that Father had gotten while he was hunting. It was barely a scratch then, and yet now the fur in the area was ragged and stained a rusty shade, like it had been scratched out by claws and teeth. The wound had gotten far, far worse since she had last seen him.
Her father’s ears pinned suddenly as he stumbled back, waving his head and whispering, “Quiet, quiet,” with a raspy, dry voice. Crypt widened her eyes and stepped further back, seeing less and less of her father as he lowered himself to the ground, his wing claws securing his stance as he let out shaking breaths, still scratching and whispering for an already-obtained silence. His eyes were distant—whatever this was, whatever was causing this delirium, it was coming and going in waves.
Her father’s gaze rested on her, though he was looking past her now. He began to lope forward, quicker than she had expected, and Crypt stood frozen.
Whispers echoed through the deepest parts of the Darkling caves.
They were telling Crypt to run.