The Pilgrim stares up at the Priestess in awe.
Soft chanting fills the chamber, voices rebounding off the marble walls - enough to provide a backdrop, but not enough to distract the objects of their owners' adulation. People of all walks of life have gathered here - beggars clad in filthy tunics, nobles standing rigidly in their fancy outfits.
For this is a sacred ritual; all are equal within the Pale Church.
The Priestess stands, resplendent in her robes of flowing silver, and fixes the Pilgrim with an intense, yet hopeful gaze. She reaches a hand into her sleeve.
"A vision of great importance has been shown to me," she says. "One where Light returns to our sundered origin, at last."
The chanting dies down, the Priestess' words holding them rapt.
"And I have found the Pilgrim who will deliver it." She pulls out an orb of pale radiance, holding it above her head. The Pilgrim's eyes follow the orb's path, growing increasingly wider as she holds it out to them.
"Will you accept this most holy quest?"
[[There is only one option.]]Words will not come. Overcome, the Pilgrim merely nods their assent.
A soft smile appears on the Priestess' face. She gently pushes the orb into the Pilgrim's hands. Though seemingly made of light, the orb is solid and cool to the touch. The Pilgrim looks at the object in wonder.
"Good. You are our beacon of hope, Pilgrim. Deliver the Lambent Heart to the darkened throne of Agartha, and Light will shine once more."
The Pilgrim gives a deep, reverential bow, turns on their heel, and marches towards the exit.
The assembly erupts into cheers, the cacophany battering the Pilgrim as they make their way outside.
The sky is a dark grey, clouds swirling menacingly overhead. The Pilgrim laughs; what others might take as an ill omen, they instead see an indication of the trials ahead. Nothing will stop them, not the weather, nor any ill-intentioned beings.
The city's inhabitants unfortunate enough to miss the Priestess' words instead hurled their support at the Pilgrim as they strode through the streets.
"Save their souls, Pilgrim!"
"Bring Agartha peace!"
"We're counting on you, so be careful!"
Pride flared in the Pilgrim's chest. They would not fail.
The city gates swing open, and the Pilgrim steps into the [[Wilds]]
By the time the Pilgrim reaches the foothills just outside the city, the heavens have split open.
Rain and wind scours the land, brutally battering the Pilgrim's body. They pull their cloak tighter around their body, but they are otherwise unmoved. This journey was never going to be easy; the Light would have been returned long ago if that were the case. No, the Pilgrim would face many harrowing trials ahead of them, they are sure; a little rain was nothing.
No, if the Pilgrim was felled by RAIN of all things, the Priestess' disappointment would be immeasurable. The Pilgrim can't bear the thought.
So on they trudge, through the muck, through the wind, through the rain. The Lambent Heart is safely tucked away underneath their cloak, but a faint glow still shines through. The sight gives them comfort.
The Pilgrim has no fear of bandits. The Wilds are a wasteland, devoid of any travelling merchants to plunder or any safe places to set up a hideout. Wildlife poses the biggest threat; blind creatures burrowing up from the soft earth, carrion birds circling high above and just waiting for their next meal.
They must keep their wits about them. They must not fail the Priestess. So far, there is nothing out of the ordinary.
[[They travel for days.]]
Feet blistered from the long, dull journey, the Pilgrim stumbles out of their mindless stupor as a patch of earth cracks and tumbles into oblivion.
The Pilgrim reels back, breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
Before them is a miles-wide hole stretching down into darkness. The Pit seems to invite the Pilgrim to join the other lost souls it has trapped in its depths.
This is the resting place of Agartha.
The Pilgrim laughs then, an incredulous bark of hysteria. They had made it! As quickly as their joy had arose, it subsides. Celebration can wait until after they have completed their mission; they have merely reached the starting line.
They look for ways to descend.
There: [[some rocky outcroppings look like they can be climbed.]]
There: an enormous bat is descending from the dawn sky; [[if they can time it correctly, they can grab onto it and hitch a ride down.]]
[[Or they can jump. They can probably make it.]]
The Pilgrim steels themself. They have no time to waste trying to find a safe way down; besides, they have a relic bestowed upon them by the Priestess herself! How could they possibly fail?
They back up, take a deep breath, and charge forward as fast as they can. They leap over the edge, and gravity yanks them downward.
A scream is torn from their throat as they plunge towards the abyss. The Lambent Heart slips from the Pilgrim's grasp, and they flail trying to grab hold of it. The orb falls out of reach.
As the darkness swallows both Pilgrim and Heart, the world stills for a moment. Then the lip of the sinkhole collapses, chunks of earth tumbling into the abyss after the foolish Pilgrim.
The Pit grows larger.The Pilgrim feels their heart hammering in their chest. They take a deep breath to calm themself. This was just another trial; they will not rush into it blindly. The Pilgrim slowly lowers themself over the lip of the edge, feet stabilizing on natural footholds. Slowly, the Pilgrim begins to climb down.
They quickly find a rhythm, and begin climbing faster. This path is safe; the sooner they reach the bottom, the better!
Their foot hits a loose rock, which crumbles under their weight. The Pilgrim yelps, slips, and plunges downward. They scramble for purchase, and halt their fall.
They feel the Lambent Heart slip from their person.
The Pilgrim cries out once more, sheer terror making them bold. They reach out, fingers wrapping around the orb and holding it in place. They strain, levering it up, and secure it to their person. They breathe a sigh of relief.
Darkness presses in on them, and they lose track of time. They keep going.
Their feet eventually touch down on flat, unyielding rock. They fish the orb out from their cloak, the pale radiance lighting up the area around them.
Ahead are the smashed remains of the city of Agartha.
[[They keep going.]]The bat flies almost drunkenly, as if exhaustion is about to claim it. Perhaps it is seeking to roost somewhere in The Pit? The Pilgrim believes so.
They crouch low to the ground, hoping their dull cloak blends in with the equally drab landscape. The bat does not seem to notice them.
The creature passes above their position, and the Pilgrim leaps. They grab onto the bat's legs, which causes the creature to screech in alarm. The Pilgrim's weight drags both of them downwards, though the frantic flapping of the bat's wings keeps them from plunging too fast.
The bat flies towards a wall. The Pilgrim braces themself, and tries to clamber up the bat's body. The creature's path is disrupted, and they both start falling faster.
The Pilgrim's cries join with the creature's, both of them united in their shared fear of death.
The orb is suddenly in the Pilgrim's hands, blazing with radiance.
The Pilgrim can see that the ground has gotten much closer.
They pull back on the bat's ears, causing the creature to rear back and flap harder.
The Pilgrim takes a chance and leaps from the bat. They impact hard against the ground, the breath jolted from their lungs.
But they are alive.
The bat flies upwards, its screeches indignant.
Ahead of the Pilgrim are the smashed remnants of Agartha, ancestral homeland of their people.
[[They keep going.]]Agartha's splendor has long since vanished. Its citizens long perished.
The Pilgrim feels the cold stares of the dead upon them, angry at their peace having been disturbed.
Castle Agartha seems remarkably untouched. That is where the Pilgrim must go.
Some rubble tumbles, crackling as it bumps into its fellows. The Pilgrim halts, scans for danger.
Nothing.
No matter.
The Pilgrim pushes onward.
The castle gates hang open, inviting.
The Pilgrim crosses the threshold. The throne room waits ahead.
As do three shadowy figures who turn at the Pilgrim's approach.
The Pilgrim:
[[Rushes forward, shouting in both fear and anger at the apparitions.]]
[[Bends to one knee, silently holding out the Lambent Heart.]]The shadows meet the Pilgrim's charge head-on. The Pilgrim pushes forward, feeling an intense coldness as they pass through the shadows' bodies. The throne is just ahead. They leap, feeling the shadows' hands grasping for them.
The Pilgrim slams the Lambent Heart onto the throne.
The effect is immediate.
Light explodes outward, incinerating everything in the throne room, and beyond.
The Pit seems to scream as its insides are immolated.
And then everything is still.The Pilgrim holds the Lambent Heart out with trembling hands. The shadows approach, as if curious. They reach out their hands and touch the orb.
The room seems to sigh, and with a flash of light the shadows are banished.
The Pilgrim calmly walks to the throne and gently places the Heart.
Light, brilliant and warm, bursts forth.
The dead of Agartha feel peace at last.