Deus Necros

The newly opened path descended in a slow spiral, the air growing heavier and cooler as the sound of the upper city fell away. The further they went, the more the living wood closed in, curving overhead like a tunnel of ribs. Pale green light shimmered faintly through the bark, enough to trace the edges of the corridor but not enough to reveal its depth. Ludwig’s boots sank slightly into the moss-grown floor, each step leaving a dark print that filled again with faint moisture, as if the tree were slowly breathing them in. A scent of old sap and rain-soaked bark thickened around them. It wasn’t unpleasant, just ancient, the smell of something that had existed too long to care about the passage of time.

When they finally stepped into the heart of the chamber, it was like walking into the still center of the world. Lorina stopped ahead of him, and for a long breath Ludwig only listened. The air here was utterly still, but alive with the whisper of energy; faint vibrations trembled through the soles of his boots. Before them stretched a pond no larger than a dining table, yet impossibly clear. The surface shone like a mirror, reflecting the roof’s faint green glow so sharply that it looked as if another pond hung beneath it, a perfect twin in reverse. A wooden fang-like stalactite hung directly above, dripping a single bead at intervals so even that it could have been the heartbeat of the tree itself. Every drop met the surface without sound or ripple. It simply vanished.

Lorina moved with reverence. She produced a small vial no larger than a thumb joint and crouched at the pond’s edge. Her reflection bent across the water like a ghost of herself. She dipped the vial, and the liquid filled instantly, gleaming with its own faint inner light. Then she pressed her fingertips against the wooden floor beside the pond and murmured a word Ludwig didn’t catch. The wood answered her. A thin tendril rose from the floor, smooth, pliant, the color of fresh willow bark. She drew it between her fingers as if pulling thread from a spool and wrapped it around the vial in looping, fluid motions. The living strand stiffened as it cooled, forming a seamless cord, and when she finished she tied it in a small knot shaped like a leaf. The craftsmanship was so fine it looked natural, as though it had grown that way.

She straightened, the vial cradled in her palms. “This should help alleviate the side effects of the Heart you’re currently wearing,” she said, offering it out to him.

Ludwig accepted the necklace but didn’t put it on immediately. The wood was cool against his gloves, the glass faintly warm, humming with a life of its own. “How did you know about the side effects?” he asked, curiosity threading his tone.

Lorina smiled slightly. “We’re attuned to such things. The Heart you carry wasn’t meant for a body of flesh. I can feel it even from here, it’s overflowing, pushing too much power through your veins, burning you a little every time you use it. It’s destroying you from within. And whenever you draw on its Aura, that damage doubles. Didn’t you feel the backlash?”

Ludwig remembered the first time he had pushed the Heart’s limits in Solania’s mountains, the air so cold it stung to breathe, the flash of crimson power coursing through him, the sudden surge that turned to agony when his body failed to keep up. He had staggered in the snow with blood spilling from his lips, his heart hammering like a drum ready to burst. The memory was distant, but his chest still remembered the weight of it.

“Something like that,” he said dryly.

Lorina knelt again by the pond “This is the Water of Life,” she said. “Every mortal on the continent would kill for a sip. A single mouthful adds a century to one’s life. But its worth isn’t only in longevity.” She stood and walked toward him. The faint ripples of magic following her touch made the air hum softly. “It also quiets the corruption that runs through you.”

She reached up to his hanging hand, grabbing the pendant and then ceremoniously placed it around his neck, rising slightly on her toes. The tip of the vial brushed his collarbone, its touch startlingly cold, and then settled with the delicate weight of glass. Lorina’s fingers brushed against his throat as she tied the clasp. He inclined his head out of courtesy, and she smiled, a quick expression of warmth that vanished almost immediately.

A soft flicker of a notification window formed in his vision, crisp and blue against the dim chamber light.

[Amulet of Serenity]

Tier: Unique

Heavily muffles negative magic affecting the wearer.

Currently muffling: Wrathful Destruction.

Mana regeneration increased by 10%.

“The Water of Life will soothe the Heart’s chaos,” she said. “It won’t cure it, but it will subdue the worst of its poison.”

The cooling spread through him in a slow wave. It wasn’t dramatic, no rush of power, no burning sensation, only a quiet balance, as if his heartbeat had finally matched the world’s rhythm. The Heart pulsed within him, muted but steady, its usual wild rhythm dimmed to a manageable hum.

He frowned slightly. “Won’t that dull my edge? The Heart’s destructive energy is the only thing that gives me an advantage in a real fight. I can live with the pain if it means keeping that strength.”

“The opposite,” Lorina replied. “Too much raw power blinds you to its limits. It isn’t that the Heart makes you strong, it overwhelms your body until you can barely control it. The more it floods you, the more it throttles itself to keep from destroying its host. This will let it flow cleanly. You’ll use its power fully, not waste it fighting yourself.”

The moment the window faded, he felt the change. The faint tremor in his hands stilled. The ache behind his eyes lifted. For the first time since wearing the Heart, his body felt entirely his own. Relaxed and at ease. Something he hadn’t felt ever since he became a person of Ikos.