Regaleon: The Forgotten Knight

Morning came to the Nether with the same dreadfulness and ominosity that had become so characteristic of it.

Had it been before, during those miserable days spent struggling through the Crimson Forest, there was little doubt that by now the eight exiles would have begun wallowing in gloom and despondency. Another morning would have meant another day of uncertainty, another stretch of wilderness to cross, and another creature capable of tearing them apart lurking somewhere beyond their sight.

Honestly, it would not even have been an overstatement to say that morning had become nothing more than a prelude to the same repetitive ordeal—the monotonous struggle of figuring out how to survive the day before the day itself had even properly begun.

However, unlike all those previous oppressive mornings, this one was different. Rather than being weighed down by apprehension toward the day ahead, the group was filled with something they had scarcely experienced since entering the Nether Lands; anticipation and expectancy with a dose of excitement.

All these could be detected in the giddiness of the moment and in the way their expressions appeared almost unnaturally animated compared to the grim visages they had worn during their days in the Crimson Forest.

Today was the D-Day.

Today was the day they would finally begin their journey toward the Sanctuary—the land of survivors.

There was something strangely significant about that realization.

For most people, the beginning of a journey toward a major milestone in their lives naturally carried a peculiar weight. Whether it was the excitement of leaving home, the nervousness of venturing into unfamiliar lands, or the hope of reaching somewhere that promised a better future, such moments were rarely ordinary.

Likewise, it was for the eight exiles.

The past few days in the Nether Lands had consisted of little more than a grueling survival campaign that had eventually devolved into a recurring sequence of violence, exhaustion, hunger, and vigilance. Each day had bled into the next until their exile had begun to resemble a monotonous cycle from which there seemed to be no escape.

Yet, finally, after all their suffering and perseverance, they were going to move forward.

They were leaving the Scarlet Canopy, they were going toward the Sanctuary and more importantly, they were finally going somewhere rather than merely attempting to stay alive.

The disparity between the past week and this one was not merely jarring, it was almost surreal.

Last week, they had spent every waking moment living on the edge of death, constantly mindful of the possibility that one wrong step, one careless movement, or one unfortunate encounter could condemn them to its cold depths.

This week, however, was almost the literal opposite. Though, they still had to fight for their survival and the certainty of the future, at the very least, they were now capable of doing so with purpose.

And that difference alone meant everything. Moreover, much of it was thanks to one person... Aelric.

The green-eyed youth had been nothing short of a godsend in a hellish place like this. Through his guidance, knowledge, and relentless insistence, the group had accomplished one of the greatest breakthroughs of their lives: becoming Rank One Etheryeans.

They had entered the Nether Lands as Awakeners struggling to survive. Now, they were Flesh Artificers and as if that achievement were not enough, they were about to undertake the next great stage of their journey...

That morning, the entire group had awakened with an unusual buoyancy.

Aureleah, Regaleon, and Caelestra had been among the first to rise, and by the time the others began stirring, they had already taken care of their preparations.

Yet Regaleon had barely slept at all because his mind had been far too occupied.

The peculiar experience he had undergone within the Reliquary had left him with questions he could not simply dismiss, and matters had only become more complicated after he had spent part of the night standing guard alongside Aelric.

While the others slept, the two had spoken. Or, more accurately, Regaleon had questioned the green-eyed youth until the latter had reluctantly surrendered fragments of information regarding the Sanctuary.

Aelric was notoriously tight-lipped, but even he could not conceal everything forever and Regaleon had managed to pry out several crucial details.

They were pieces of intelligence that, while incomplete, would allow him to prepare himself both mentally and physically for what lay ahead.

According to what Aelric had explained, Regaleon finally understood why the green-eyed youth had been so adamant that they become Flesh Artificers before leaving the Scarlet Canopy.

The journey to the Sanctuary was not simply a matter of walking through the Crimson Forest until they reached another settlement; rather, it was a perilous passage through territories where survival could no longer be measured by the standards of the Crimson Forest. ℯℯ𝘭.

Aelric had graciously explained the hazards of the journey and what they could expect along the way.

And let us simply say that some of the things Regaleon had been told were enough to make even the silver-haired Knight feel a chill crawl down his spine.

Nevertheless, despite that foreboding revelation, Regaleon remained filled with anticipation.

After all, if he allowed fear and trepidation over the journey’s difficulty to influence his heart, then all the suffering they had endured until now would have amounted to little more than a preparation for surrender.

They had come this far. So there was no reason to retreat now. In any case, whether Aetherium liked it or not, their trip to the Sanctuary was something that would be taken by force.

But just before embarking on that arduous journey, there were still a few matters to settle within the Scarlet Canopy.

And it was because of one such matter that the group found themselves once again descending into the waterfall cave.

”I really don’t get why we’re coming back here.” Vaelorin’s voice echoed through the darkness of the tunnel as the group walked deeper into its depths.

The apprehension and dissent in his voice were discernible enough to make it obvious that he was anything but pleased with their sudden detour.

And, in truth, the failed Pyromancer was thoroughly unhappy.

It was not merely because of the destination itself; rather, it was because of what that place represented... Death.

The last time they had ventured into these tunnels, they had come dangerously close to losing their lives—not once, but twice.

For Vaelorin, that alone should have been enough reason to stay as far away from the place as possible.

He had been under the impression that they would immediately begin their journey toward the Sanctuary once everyone had finished preparing. After all, it was something they had been looking forward to for days.

There was nothing particularly impetuous or preposterous about wanting to leave immediately. Yet, while they had been discussing the logistics and provisions they would need for the journey, Regaleon had suddenly suggested that they show Aelric the crypt.

For a moment, Vaelorin had genuinely wondered whether the silver-haired Knight had lost his mind.

Why would he willingly take them back to a place where they had nearly died? Not once but twice at that.

The thought alone had been enough to make the failed Pyromancer’s blood run cold.

The tunnels had already proven themselves to be treacherous, but the crypt at their end was something else entirely. The sarcophagi, the Terracottas, the strange inscriptions, the unnatural atmosphere, and whatever unseen secrets lurked beneath that ancient tomb had all combined into a memory Vaelorin had no desire to revisit.

He had tried to oppose the idea and had even told Regaleon to forget about the godforsaken tomb. Unfortunately, that was when Aelric had displayed an unhealthy degree of curiosity.

Then Aureleah had to further complicate things by supporting the notion.

According to her reasoning, returning to the crypt with Aelric might allow them to understand more about the sarcophagi and the other nefarious relics buried within.

There were still numerous mysteries surrounding that place.

The inscriptions alone remained unexplained, the Targaryen language was another matter entirely and then there was the question of the people buried within those ancient coffins.

And, perhaps most importantly, why did remnants of their language exist in a place as remote and dangerous as the Nether Lands?

Getting answers to these questions might have seemed irrelevant to their immediate objective, but Aureleah had argued that knowledge had a tendency to become valuable when least expected.

The information they uncovered today might prove useful days, months, or even years from now.

And the moment she had offered that reasoning, the others had been quick to agree.

Caelestra had supported her almost immediately while Kaeloris, unsurprisingly, had needed no convincing whatsoever.

In fact, somehow, after becoming a Flesh Artificer, the failed Gnost had become even more insufferably inquisitive.

His curiosity seemed to have multiplied alongside his newfound abilities, to the point that he could barely encounter a mystery without immediately attempting to dissect it with questions. Apparently, his transformation had apparently refined his physique while leaving his curiosity utterly unchecked.

And so, after a considerable amount of back-and-forth, much to the chagrin of Vaelorin, Veyrath, and Valmyr—the three most vocal opponents of the idea—the group had ultimately decided to return.

Which was how they found themselves once again walking through the damp tunnels beneath the waterfall cave.

The roar of falling water had long since faded behind them and the deeper they went, the colder the air became while the drier the grounds were.

Their footsteps echoed through the darkness which was being repelled by Kaeloris’ Lantern light, each sound seeming to travel farther than it should before finally disappearing into the depths.

None of them spoke for several moments. Even Vaelorin had fallen silent.

Perhaps the familiar darkness had reminded him of the danger that awaited them farther ahead, perhaps he was simply conserving his breath... Or perhaps he had finally realized that complaining would not change anything.

Regardless, one thing remained certain; they were going back to the crypt and there was nothing he could do to stop that undesirable detour.

And because of that, here they were, once again, in the place that had proven to be as lethal as its ominous appearance suggested...