Chapter 162: Chapter 162

It’s not here.

 

How many times have I looked now? Six? Seven? I rise to my feet, the coins that were once in one large pile are scattered around the breadth of the entire room. There is the occasional trinket and bauble here and there, but no ring. No thief. She’s not in the coins. I rub my head. What an odd thought, why would she be in the coins?

 

I look around. I guess she isn’t coming. Haha.

 

  I scratch my eyes, wonder what I should do now? I guess I should keep walking, I guess I should keep looking, right? Yeah. Yeah! The hum from around me continues on as undisturbed as ever, constant, ever-present. It is as natural as the air circulating around my wings, as the force that scatters the coins as my feet kick over them. I walk past the staircase, down the way that I was going to carry her, before she knocked my head off. Haha! That was a silly thing to do, that ring must have been really important to her! Too bad, too bad she couldn’t see it, them. Her eyes couldn’t see them like mine can. My eyes that are hallow, hallow. That's okay, I bet she's around here somewhere. Maybe she's upstairs? Yeah. Yeah!

 

  I walk around the way that is constructed much like the other path that led me here. Short corridors and tight corners lead around in a roundish shape, until eventually I find myself back at the center. Back in the large room with the circle, surrounded by bodies that hum. I realize now the shape of this floor, it’s shaped like a figure-eight, all of it coming back to converge here at this central point. I look at the entombed cultists, they look at me. A disgustingly sharp snapping rings out, as they all raise a single finger at once. All of them pointing in one unified direction. Down to the right. I nod to them. They nod back.

 

  Following their guidance, I follow the eight around, coming past the real-stairs that lead down and then past where the secret wall is, until eventually I loop back again to the room with the sigil. Their fingers crack and they point towards a different tunnel. This loop, this pattern repeats itself over and over and over. How long have I been walking? I look at them, they point to the left. I go left. I look at them. They point right. I go right. Nothing seems to change except for the direction that they point me towards. And so I walk around the loop, over and over and over.

 

I reach the center again and look at one of the robed skeletons, a wire buzzing through the back of his skull and out of his hollow eye socket and I speak, my body bobbing back and forth before his bones as I bounce in a little jig.

 

“Hey there, Mr Skeleton! Are you going to see the metaphor today?!”

 

His finger cracks as they point me down the way. Nodding to him with a laugh I follow their instructions and round the bend once more. The cycle repeats, for how many times I am unsure. I hum as I walk, the melody-less tune turning and shifting into a low, constant BMMMMMMH-

 

I reach the circle again, their fingers crack and now they point upward.

 

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  I look, there is a hole in the ceiling now. Or has that always been there? I scratch my eyes, I’m not sure. I don’t remember. Did I look before? I was so busy just walking in a circle that I never looked up. But I’ll assume it wasn’t there. Thanks guys! I wave to the skeletons as I rise up off of the floor, my wings blowing a cloud of old dust around, as I rise up into the darkness above, where there is a small ledge to be found. Grabbing it, I pull myself up and look at the staircase before me. Haha! It was right here all along. I hope she’ll catch up to me, but I’m sure she can manage. Worst case she can just take the real stairs, yeah. Yeah!

 

My feet thud against the steps and I walk, leaving the sound of the humming loop behind me. Ah. I never checked my map down there. I stop and turn around to look back down behind me. Ah! It’s fine! I wave it off and keep walking. I’ll look next time, haha!

 

  And so I rise unto the dark, in which doth shine no light nor spark; My feet as light as untouched snow, as lights do shine as above, so below; Hallow; hallow. My hands glide along the walls of the staircase, as I walk up towards what lies beyond. Towards the shimmering that draws me closer, the shine of what lies beyond the veil.

 

Floor eighty-two.

 

  Something crunches beneath my feet as I climb. Dust. Sand. Grains of rock. Hollow dirt. Hollow. Hollow. Above me is a single pinprick of light that shines through a tiny hole just above my head as I reach the end. Huh? I reach up to touch it, to touch the fine sand that is somehow compressed together into one surface above me, save for the tiny hole. As my finger reaches it, the constru- IAHG!

 

  Flailing my arms, I dig up and out of the wall of fine sand that has fallen down to bury me, heaps of it oozing downwards, leaking downward down the secret stairs. Sand is in my eyes, sand is in my robe, sand is in my unmentionables, as I climb out and flop onto it. It’s hot. I look around. There is nothing. Sand for as far as I can see. The dungeon-walls that appear so distant here are nearly covered by mountains and mountains of a dull, reddish-brown sand that is as fine as flour. It’s hot. I spit a mouthful of it out, scraping my tongue on my sand-covered arm, making things worse. Ugh.

 

  I rise up and look around at the nothing around me. Nothing except for sand and uh, bones. Lots of bones. Thousands of bones. Hundreds of skulls. Likely hundreds more that are buried beneath the sand where they rest, sanctified. There is no time for sleep though, there is work to do. Hallow, blessed work. I raise my hands, sand falls down my arms into the front of my robe. A white, ethereal light creeps from my palm and seeps around to the many blessed-dead who so deep do sleep. Wake. Wake! There is holy work to do!

 

The bones all rattle and pull themselves together as an entire swarm of skeletons, two dozen strong, rises up to their ancient sun-baked feet. Their eyes looking at me curiously, wondering what it is I have awoken them for.

 

I swing my arm and they set to work, following my unspoken command to walk the wastes. To search for anything that is green out in the desert. I rise up into the air, flying above the sands as I continue my work, scratching my eyes as I do so. They feel kind of itchy.

 

 

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