The cloud of steam hanging over the trees ahead was the first sign of something amiss. The second was the scent of burning wood, barely noticeable at first over the sickly humid stench of the jungle, but quickly growing as they drew closer.
Lady Maemori paused, a frown forming on her brow. She looked over to the Keeper at her side, but the empty void of his hood helped little. Letting out a grunt of annoyance, she lifted her hand and beckoned a trio of skeletal warriors forward. The advance continued with them several metres ahead of the main group, hacking away at the foliage to give some measure of visibility amidst the thickening cloud of vaporised water.
Rising out of the hot mist ahead of them, a black monolith began to emerge, the gigantic structure stood higher than all but the tallest of the nearby trees, but it was only when Maemori drew close that she realised it was not anchored to the ground, but floated above it, held aloft by some ancient magic. It was also then she discovered the source of the steam. A stream of lava gushed forth from the base of the monolith, connecting it to the ground and cutting into the flow of the nearby river where fire and water endlessly consumed one another.
“Truly there is no end of surprises in this jungle Hehehe,” the keeper said, craning his neck to take in the peak of the monolith.
“Or power,” Maemori agreed, following his gaze.
The power conveyed by the monolith’s physical state was as nothing compared to the dark aura that surrounded it. Though its onyx sides were polished smooth, she could feel the profane nature of its essence, one that tugged at her very soul. It was undoubtedly another artefact of the ruinous powers but where the tower of bloods corruption had been brazen, there was something far more insidious about the nature of the monolith.
“Let me guess, you think I should go and take this power unto myself as well?” Maemori asked sarcastically.
To her surprise, the Keeper shook his head. “The power that forged this object is ancient and beyond us both, to attempt to harness it directly would destroy you utterly.”
“I feel there is a but coming.”
“Hehehe, so there is my lady, so there is,” said the Keeper, his usual, disturbing levity returning. “To harness it is a fool’s errand, to direct it though… That is within our capabilities. Look what devastation it wrecks upon this land at slumber, imagine what it would be capable of if we fed its avarice.”
Maemori looked at the Keeper intently, but saw no sign of deception. This time. Still, she shook her head.
“Powerful as it may be, it is an inelegant thing, a blunt instrument of destruction visible for miles around. If I wished to wield such a weapon I would carry around a grandhammer on my back.”
“Perhaps you should, we may come across our share of nails out here hehehe,” the Keeper laughed.
Maemori found herself wishing she did have a hammer for him.
“If we do not use it,” the Keeper continued, “others who find it will surely not be so indisposed by their sense of aesthetics.”
The Keeper kept talking, but Maemori’s attention was drawn to the blood vessel, the vampiric corpse into which she had infused the power of the blood god’s tower. For the most part it had followed her as a vacant supplicant, nothing more than a shell to hold the tainted power. Just as the tower had brought them safely through the forest to reach it, though, so the vessel had some instinct in navigating Ghur’s wilds, wandering down paths through the trees as if drawn to the safer routes through the dell.
It had been standing a few yards from her, forgotten, but movement at the corner of Maemori’s eyes had drawn her gaze back and she turned to see the vessel moving of its own volition. Cocking her head, she watched as it walked away, slowly, swaying as if drunk. It was not moving from the monolith, or to it, but almost perpendicular. Maemori frowned. What could be affecting it in the presence of such power?
“Lady Maemori, are you listening, I said-,”
Maemori never found out what the Keeper had been saying. A deafening crack split the air as the ground itself sundered and broke apart. All sense of orientation was lost to Maemori as she was flung from the ground that lurched beneath her feet. Trees splintered, rock shattered, and water surged as the world around them violently remade itself. Her unnatural reflexes allowed her to land gracefully for a moment, only for Ghur’s brutality to rip away the ground from beneath her feet once again and send her face first into the ground.
As suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Wary of aftershocks, Maemori clambered to her feet and wiped the blood from her nose. Beside her, the Keeper was doing the same, using his staff to support himself as he staggered upright. Around them, the skeletal warriors followed suit, necromantic magic hauling them upright and remaking limbs scattered by debris.
As she took stock of their surroundings and brushed herself off, Maemori found herself once more looking at the vessel. Somehow, it had remained upright and continued its loping walking. Whereas before though, there had been nothing but rocks and shrubs before it, now a deep scar split the land, a fissure leading into the depths of the earth.
“What is it doing?” asked The Keeper, following her gaze.
“Blood follows blood,” Maemori said, smiling, finally feeling what the vessel had sensed. It had been too subtle for her before, but now, through the wound in the earth, she could feel its essence in the depths below. “The blood of the realm itself.”
She strode forward, the monolith forgotten. True power beckoned.
