#femerall

[whatsanartpocalae]

It took about 10 years but I colored in Femerall from Legends of Casteval. I decided the messups look cool. 

[writeanapocalae]

The World of Gray | The Sleeping World | The World of Gray | The World of Gray

A quick look around the cavern didn’t reveal anything either, just those smooth stones. No one had come through before him and decided to leave their key behind.

There was still more to the cave though, and it twisted and turned away from him. He couldn’t see any more of those stones, and the echoing rumble of the waterfall covered any other noises that could be coming from that way. There was a chance that there would be something down there, some sharp stone or forgotten blade.

He was imagining this, it was his hallucination, he felt like he should have been able to control it, at least somewhat. He left the light, wandering further into the darkness, trying to imagine some tool that would help him; a flashlight at his waist, a treasure chest with an abandoned cutlass, anything. He kept close to the wall and none of his attempts at lucidity aided him.

There was sound though, a quiet whimpering, hidden beneath the layers of water. Without sight, Casteval made his way towards it, unsure if he even had a choice. As of yet, he had felt no turn off, no paths that would take him away from it. While fear climbed up his legs, trying to root them in place, there was a pain to the sobs in the distance that drew him closer. He had all manner of reason to not continue, but the idea of leaving someone in pain, was all sorts of wrong to him.  

And there was light up ahead as well, a spotlight of it, coming from a hole in the cave ceiling. Like the light that Casteval had come from before, it was a pale gray and that thick fog had fallen in with it. It wasn’t enough though to obscure the figure underneath it, lying on their back, on a flat slab of black stone. They were shuddering and crying, skeletal in appearance, slightly writhing but mostly still.

It was a trap. Casteval was not a fool. Not that much of one. It was just so well displayed, the light, the sounds, all of it. Casteval continued his approach but stopped at the edge of the light, trying to find the effect of the traps trigger, seeing what the figure actually was.

They were not skeletal, but a skeleton, bones black and twisted, as if they’d been made from burning vines. Their hands scrambled at the stone, in heavy rivulets of scratch marks, tracing the pattern that their bones had carved. While the skeleton was humanoid, their face was not, looking like a white mask had been fused to the skull. The mask was unmoving, but there were black eyes behind it, and they searched the room constantly, before falling onto Casteval.

“No!” they screeched, pulling at their invisible bonds, trying to get more to the side, away from Casteval. There were more than just bindings, a long black blade shoved between their ribs kept them from moving too far away. “Not you! Not the Casteval! Have we not suffered enough? Have we not been good? No more, no more punishment! The Casteval has no need to do more!”

Casteval raised his hands, not stepping forward, trying not to frighten the creature further. He remembered something about this, from the stories, but it had been so long since he’d read them. Either way, Casteval, if he’d ever really existed, hadn’t been around for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. This thing must have been here for a long time, all alone. He didn’t think anything deserved that.

“Hey! I’m not Casteval! I’m going to take a step forward, take a good look.” He remembered what the dragon had said, that he didn’t look like the hero, nor smell like him, and hoped that it was true.

Stepping into the light, the skeleton relaxed noticeably, but did not stop in its whining. “Not Casteval, not quite. But what else? The dead come to visit us?”

“No, something else,” Casteval took another step forward, hands still raised. There was still the chance that this was a trap, but if it was, it would have gone off by now. “What’s your name?”

“We are Femerall, the Shadow in Us All,” they said, pride in their voice, breaking through the sniveling.

That hit Casteval, the name, the legend. The Shadow in Us All was an infection, in every version of the story, that bled out of criminals, becoming a force of its own to slither through dark streets and take whoever it passed. Casteval, the hero, was unable to slay it, as it was a part of himself. The best he could do was lock it away.

“I thought this was the world between the living and the dead,” Casteval recalled, “what are you doing here?”

“Suffering!” Femerall screeched, “Is this what being alive looks like to you? No! We are trapped, punished for so long, longer than we even know. Is this what being dead is? Being dead is nice! Easy!”

Now that Casteval knew their name, he wasn’t so sure that he wanted to help them. Before, he had been willing, drawn to aid someone who was hurting but now, he had no protection, he knew. If he were to let them go, he would be infected by their terrible presence. If this was the space like the dragon had explained, a waiting place for the stories to restart, to be told again, he didn’t want to start it on the wrong side. He was already doing pretty poorly by not being the hero, by not being heroic, by being pathetic and frightened and Casteval himself.

“Do you want to die?” he asked, lowering his hands. He didn’t know what he would do if Femerall said yes, he didn’t want to kill them, or anyone for that matter.

“Better than being here. Better than being this!” they proclaimed. “But no, not death. Just away. Away. Away. Please, away.”

Casteval eyed the blade in their chest. He had no way of knowing if there were other weapons in the cave but he doubted it. He doubted that it went much further than this. He didn’t know what would happen if he cut himself on it here, let his blood touch Femerall. It would be best if he took it, both for the door and for his own protection.

“If I were to release you, what would you do? Where would you go?” That question almost as frightening as the last.

“Away!” they wretched, “Away from here, to the lands of the dead and dying and cursed! To those who must rise against the defeater, the destroyer, the slayer! To the lands of the alive and the living and the free! To those who wish their lands still fertile and the stars still shown with more than reflection! To the hearts of the greedy and the unjust, to let them dance in the nights of their own self destruction!”

“It doesn’t sound like you’d be up to much good,” Casteval interrupted.

Femerall went silent, staring at him with those shining black eyes. “Only do what those already want in their hearts. Just a step, an inkling. Does it matter to you?”

Casteval sighed. It didn’t really, especially sine none of this was real. He took another step forward, putting his hand on the pommel of the blade.

“Release us with that?” they asked, glancing at the weapon, “But it is the light that binds!”

Casteval looked up. The hole wasn’t too big, but it was far away. He wouldn’t be able to bloke it off, didn’t have anything to block it off with. He put his hand to his mouth, the side of his index finger to his lips, and thought. He couldn’t even climb the waterfall, to get to the top and if he did he’d still need something to put in the hole. He doubted that night even existed in this place, it always seemed like it was the same time of day.

“Give me a moment,” he requested, thinking of something large and air born, “I have an idea.”

Femerall had no argument aside from further whimpering, and they turned their head away from Casteval and the light above.

He made his way back towards the mouth of the cave, a bit more confidant now that he was retracing his steps. The stones were still faintly glowing and he ran a hand over them to get their light to fill the space, giving him enough room to think about his actions before reaching the waterfall.

This was a villain in so many of the stories. Casteval owed them nothing, either, had no reason to free them. Doing so would probably only cause evil to spread in his mind, since this all took place there. It had to. He wondered what a psychiatrist would think of this, or a psychic. Both would find his compassion endearing, but ultimately selfish, he was certain.

Not wanted to brave stepping through the torrents of water again, only now feeling the edges of his clothes dry and the shaking cease, he called out through it, hoping that his voice would not only carry through the waterfall but over the landscape, to the dragon.

After a while, when he was sure that the dragon had not heard him at all and he would be forced to dowse himself once more, he saw the shadow of its frame, through the water. Every time he saw it, he swore it was larger than the last.

It pushed its head through the water, not caring as it dribbled in heavy drops from its horns and ridges.

“You have called me, little fake Casteval, and I have come, only out of curiosity.” Its voice ricocheted through the cave.

“I have a favor to ask,” Casteval explained, “an odd one, but easy, I think, for you.”

It lowered its head down to Casteval’s level. “A favor? How interesting that one such as you would ask such a thing of me, without first giving me the satisfaction of knowledge. What are you willing to give for this favor?”

Casteval had nothing to give and the dragon was an ancient beast, it had no want of human materials anyway. He thought a moment, but knew already what the dragon wanted most of all. “When I awaken Casteval, or become him like you seem to think I will, you’ll be the first one slain.”

The dragon smiled at that and Casteval wasn’t sure if it was joy or a threat if Casteval didn’t go through with it. “And the favor?”

“There is a hole in the roof of the cave, that way.” Casteval pointed, “I was hoping you could fly over it, get the cave completely dark.”

The dragon tilted its head, almost at a ninety degree angle and blinked at him.

“Like I said, easy but odd.”

“Yes, I will do this thing, and you shall slay me once you are ready,” it said, pulling its head back through the water, “and then all will be as it should be once more.”

Casteval didn’t see it take off, even though he was looking directly at it. It was standing and then it was air born, without much change between. It wouldn’t be long now until there would be consequences for Casteval’s charity. He knew it would be swift and possibly directed at him. He was, at least, glad that he hadn’t told Femerall his name.

He was making his way back, feet starting to hurt in his uncomfortable oxfords, when he felt it. He still couldn’t see anything, so when Femerall touched him, he gasped, body going still. The hand upon his arm wasn’t entering him though, was politely staying on his skin, cool and calm.

“Thought you’d want this,” Femerall explained, sliding the pommel of the short sword into Casteval’s left hand, “We saw you eyeing it.”

Their free hand was now on his shoulder and he shuddered against it, feeling their cold through his shirt, the damp parts feeling like they would freeze. Femerall was moving though, leading him through the darkness, offering aid to keep Casteval from stepping where he shouldn’t to help him avoid tripping.

“These are the doors, which should we take?” Femerall asked. “We like the black one but the white promises such already adulterated revelry.”

“I’m going red,” Casteval explained.

“Yes, of course you are. We think black.”

They released him there and he couldn’t see them move, although he could have, if he only touched one of those stones, but he didn’t dare. Not after what they’d gone through from the light. They groaned, the sound almost too sexual, as they eased past the black door, although Casteval did not hear it open or close.

Alone, he tapped one of the stones with the flat side of the short sword and saw his exit.

@anhathaway

[trustarmor]

Final fantasy iii psp cheat codes

#Final fantasy iii psp cheat codes cracked#

#Final fantasy iii psp cheat codes install#

You can then also put any other items you want to change quantity of in that same position and set there value as well. Then you can set the item value to whatever you want (1 - 99). Because of this you can, for example, have Ultima Weapon/Masamune and 5 potions next to each other in your inventory, do a search for "1" (for the Ultima Weapon or Masamune) then switch the positions of the potions and the weapon (or anything else), search for "5" (number of potions), switch them back and repeat (this may take a few times) and find the address for that inventory position. Lucky Patcher of course requires your device to be rooted in order to run.Īs far as additional cheats/hacks go on the game itself, I'd like to point out that (because I haven't seen this listed anywhere) item values are based on there location in your inventory, rather than being static based on item type.

#Final fantasy iii psp cheat codes install#

Lucky Patcher can also create a "modded APK" for you, though if I'm not mistaken, your device would still require Lucky Patcher to be installed in order to install the modded APK. However your best bet is to either pay for a license, or use a rooted device with Lucky Patcher or a similar app installed, to remove the licensing check (which will also remove the need for some form of net connection just to start up the game). If you can find a modded version of the game that has had this verification process removed, it may be possible. This is due to the licensing verification put it place by Square Enix. I don't believe it's possible to have any version of FFIII on your device, be it modded or not, without having the device rooted. I'll start off by answering your question, Femerall. Sometimes they are different and change spots each time you load up the game.įF III works normally for me using Gameguardian. I've found that the locations change for each person, in most games. don't know if it's me or if the codes are wrong, since it was for gamecih, but it shouldn't matter right? cuz it's the game's file codes!? i fought a couple of battles, changed the values a couple of time and nothing worked. I found in another forum that the "codes" for character experience by position are:ĭoing that doesn't freeze the game, but it also doesn't do anything.

#Final fantasy iii psp cheat codes cracked#

Hey, i have a samsung galaxy gio, the game was cracked with lucky patcher so that it passes the verification and doesn't need internet access, i tried gamecih and it froze the entire phone, it was so slow that i couldn't unlock it, and when i tryed game guardian it freezes the game after i try a search.

[writeanapocalae]

My ocs almost all have weird made up names so I'm opening this up to similar names as well!

Alcul

Camilla

Casteval

Cathrita

Chindaria

Desmira

Erimot

Femerall

Hilgarin

Isaac

Karrigan

Kyah

Kyarei

Hercatia

Malethar

Mr Munchie

Pen

Ranvert

Rhys

Rule

Sergai

Sevati

Sid

Trust

Valentin

Yoli

Zalis

Writers- let’s play a game

List all of your OCs and if someone has an OC with a matching name, they send you a “match”: they describe their OC to you and you describe your matching OC to them! Inboxes open!

I’ll call it OC Match

Use the tag #OC Match

[whatsanartpocalae]

Femerall, The Shadow In Us All, from Legends of Casteval. Unfortunately, never properly seen in the story...

[writeanapocalae]

The Darkness of Dying Itself

Falling Plane of Loss | The Sleeping World | The Sleeping World | The Sleeping World | The Sleeping World | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Tower of Purity | The Tower of Purity | The Tower of Purity | The Sleeping World | The World of Gray | The Darkness of Dying Itself | The Darkness of Dying Itself | The Darkness of Dying Itself | The Temple of Light | The Temple of Light | The Darkness of Dying Itself | The Darkness of Dying Itself | The Temple of Light | The Temple of Light | The Temple of Light | The Darkness of Dying Itself

Eventually the tunnel split into three paths and they stopped, examining it for a moment. On the floor was a drawing of an arrow, in what looked like blood. It also sprang into three directions, but the one going straight ahead had three heads on it. That was the right path, Casteval was certain.

“Did you get the armor?” Erimot asked.

“Yeah,” Casteval smirked, “those things in the dark were wearing it.”

“Why aren’t you wearing it?”

Casteval thought on that. He hadn’t even tried to put it on. The dragon had said it would fit him if he wanted it to, if he tried hard enough. He supposed that it was Casteval that made him hesitate. How much could he look like the hero without becoming him? He already had the sword and now he was aware that his body was changing without his knowledge. The armor would make his body look like Casteval’s. That was a bit too much, in his opinion.

There was a skittering, a different kind of skittering than what the snail things produced as the hid in the holes.

“I would suggest you put the armor on now,” Erimot said, trying to keep xir voice steady, though there was a tremor in it that could not be ignored.

“What’s coming?” Casteval asked.

“You mentioned parasites. Parasites don’t live alone. There’s always something around that will eat them.”

”Femerall?” Casteval called out. He didn’t think that Femerall was the one sneaking around in here, but he wouldn’t be terribly surprised. The creature had been far kinder than they’d ever shown in the legends, but they had still tried to eat Casteval. If anyone knew what they were dealing with though, it was them.

The skittering stopped and that was much much worse. If it wasn’t moving, there was a reason. Casteval lifted the light, trying to see what was coming for them.

It flickered like a shadow against a flame, its own bio-luminescence matching the color and quality of the bottle in spots, making it look like oil reflecting light, pulled up on the ceiling. It didn’t look like anything, really, just a liquid, but it wasn’t dripping down and it was moving with them.

Casteval pushed forward, throwing Erimot ahead of him. “Go!” he called out. Erimot stumbled and fell, unable to keep xir footing here. Xir eyes were up, on that dark shape, even behind the bandages. Casteval tired to think. He couldn’t remember how blind Erimot was before, when they were in the Falling Plane or the Tower. Xi must have always been able to see through the gauze.

The shape started to peel, like a bandage on skin, screeching like a bat, just stretched out, as it did. The creak of a door over-amplified and played back on itself. Casteval started to run. The thing was fast though and it scurried on the ceiling, copying and doubling the light all the while. It chased them until another split in the path made them pause, having to read the signs underfoot. That was when it decided to drop.

It landed on the bottle, on Casteval’s hands, and as it’s light was cloaked it’s own light shut down, leaving them in complete darkness. The only light came from Erimot, but it was so faint and red that it was hardly there. If red light was safe for film, it must not have done as much against the snails.

They had been calling, on and off, from the holes in the walls. Now they were calling out louder, pushier, all of them demanding help, demanding aid. Casteval struggled, trying to pull the oily thing off of the bottle. It held onto it, onto Casteval’s hands, with a tight desire, stronger than it seemed. It had thousands of tiny feet, like a starfish, clinging to him.

“Erimot!” he gritted out.

“I’m here!” Erimot replied and xi were, but Casteval needed more than that. They needed a plan.

It was too late for one of those though, as one of the snails landed on Casteval, squirming around his arm. It felt cold against him, as if it’s body was full of ice water. It’s shell was the warmest part of it. He tried to wrench one of his hands free but the oil was holding tight. It’s idea wasn’t just to make it dark, but to make it so they couldn’t have light at all, and then let the parasites swarm. Only them would it strike and kill as any of them as it could. It was intelligent then, for stratagems. That was no a comforting thought.

Casteval shrieked as the one on his arm bit in, as more of them clung to his shoes, slowing him in their ascent. One of them was as tall as his knee and that one was climbing up his back, sinking its teeth deep into his shoulder.

He writhed, trying to shake them off, turning and throwing himself against the wall, pinning them, making them squeal. Some of them let go, falling to the floor, others held on tighter, bit harder, and he could feel his blood soaking through his shirt, deep underneath his leather jacket. They must have been biting through the leather then, any hopes he had of it defending him dashed away.

“Break it!” he heard and he glanced at the light, saw it fighting back as much as he was. Saw Erimot fighting back like he was. They were trying to eat xim too. He didn’t know what Erimot meant though. He didn’t dare ask. He could just imagine one of those things trying to crawl into his mouth.

Pain erupted in the back of his calf and his mouth was open anyway as he screamed in the surprising burn of pain and the shock of the world spinning, him falling on his back. He was slick with blood.

“The bottle!” Erimot clarified, “Smash it!”

@kly-writes, @mynameis3-14, @anhathaway, @writing-at-dusk, @itskassidywrites, @ghost-possum, @blank-nova-trash, @paladin-andric, @pazwrites, @writersshock

[writeanapocalae]

Legends Of Casteval

Genre: psychological fantasy, modern mythology

Setting: Hell, the space between life and death, dreamscapes

Style: third person

Draft: second!

Playlist: youtube

Synopsis:

When someone is named after a hero, there is a pressure to be like that hero. Casteval has given up on trying to live up to the legendary hero, but it seems that there’s more to his connection than just a name.

He finds himself face to face with the conquests of the original Casteval, those he’s slain, and he is set to become the hero he’s tried to avoid. He tries to pass these scenes as hallucinations, though he’d never been in a situation to cause one, and the creatures he’s meeting are convinced that they are real and the world he’s from is the fake one. 

Featuring:

Casteval Masterick - An office worker, who doesn’t think he’s anything special. He’s a bit of a coward, worried about failure, and is tired of what others think of him. 

The Dragon - An aloof monster who speaks in prose and doesnt truly care if Casteval takes his proper role or not. It is knowledgable and easy to talk to.  

Femerall The Shadow in Us All - A creature made of plague and sin, an infection of evil that was bound into a single form. It has nothing more than the desire to corrupt, though it will be loyal, to a point, to those who aid it. 

Carmilla the Devourer of Gods - A hard and cold woman, she has been the killer of many and feels right in her doing so. She has a kind side, mostly for the Living Vessel, and would make a powerful ally. 

Erimot The Living Vessel - Weak willed and overly trusting, he has short term memory for many things aside from constant companions. He is easily possessed by the old gods and is over reliant on Carmilla to protect him. 

Ranvert - A, perhaps overtly sexual vampire from a different story than Casteval’s, he seems to know far too much than someone of his calibre would. He is willing to help out, fill in gaps of information, due most anything, if the price is right. 

The Beast Inside - An old lover of the original Casteval, she is cunning and bloodthirsty. She has suffered the most for what she is and is excited to betray Casteval once more. 

Word Count: 75,000

Readers (ask to be added):

@kly-writes, @mynameis3-14, @anhathaway, @writing-at-dusk, @itskassidywrites, @ghost-possum, @blank-nova-trash, @paladin-andric, @pazwrites  @writersshock

Links: 

The World of Gray | The Sleeping World | The World of Gray | The World of Gray| The Falling Plane of Loss | The Falling Plane of Loss | Falling Plane of Loss | The Sleeping World | The Sleeping World | The Sleeping World | The Sleeping World | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Tower of Purity | The Tower of Purity | The Tower of Purity | The Sleeping World | The World of Gray | The Darkness of Dying Itself | The Darkness of Dying Itself | The Darkness of Dying Itself | The Temple of Light | The Temple of Light | The Darkness of Dying Itself | The Darkness of Dying Itself

[writeanapocalae]

The World of Gray | The Sleeping World | The World of Gray | The World of Gray| The Falling Plane of Loss | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Sleeping World | The Sleeping World | The Sleeping World | The Sleeping World | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Tower of Purity | The Tower of Purity | The Tower of Purity | The Sleeping World | The World of Gray | The Darkness of Dying Itself | The Darkness of Dying Itself

“You shouldn’t do that,” came a familiar voice in his ear. “We don’t like the light.”

Casteval shoved the light under his shirt, pulling his jacket tight around it, as he looked around. The world was plunged into darkness once more, so he couldn’t see anything of who had spoken.

“I can’t help, if I can’t see,” he argued, tugging his feet free of the floor once more.

“And the Not Casteval doesn’t need to help,” the voice muttered. “Shouldn’t. Bad to help in here. Can’t see in the dark. Can’t see what’s being hidden.”

“Femerall,” Casteval recognized, “you’re also hidden in the darkness. I helped you.”

“Parasites though. We are parasites. You made a mistake to let us out. Mistakes further to help these.”

Casteval closed his eyes. It didn’t matter though, with all this darkness. He didn’t know how to not help though. Everything about him had been surrounding the concept of helping. “I thought this was where the dead arrived? Where they had to travel to the Temple of Light?”

“Parasites,” Femerall repeated, “Eat the dead. Pretend to need help. We do this.”

Casteval tugged his feet up again and started to walk, trying to make his way deeper, closer to the temple, though he didn’t know the way. He could hear Femerall follow, just behind him, close as a shadow. More voices were coming in the distance, asking, begging for help. There were things moving around out there as well.

Casteval could see it, just a little bit, through the light that came through his shirt. It was hardly anything, but there were dark spots that were darker than others.

“What’s the point of this then? To have a place for the dead to arrive and travel to a place of sorting, if they’re going to be tempted on the way like this?”

“What’s the point? Parasites have no point. We eat. We mate. We make trouble. Hard to make trouble here, for us.”

Casteval turned towards his shadow, who shrank away from the dim light. “You make trouble in a specific way, right Femerall? That doesn’t work here.”

“Here is dark. Here is safe,” Femerall explained, sounding hurt, cowardly. “We want to do what we must, want to do what we are supposed to do. Here is safe. No light if we stay away.”

Casteval understood that. He could have tried for other jobs, applied himself better in school, done a million different things differently. The fact that he hadn’t though, had left him in the safe route, although he was now wondering how much of that had actually mattered. There were plans for him, just for his namesake, already.

“But do you prefer it?”

“After punishment? Yes. Freedom. Safety. We have these now, thanks to the Not Casteval.”

Casteval perked his ears, listening, trying to hear past the parasites, trying to hear the newly arrived dead. He’d heard of deaths, on the news, in newspapers, happening by the dozens in a given hour. He hadn’t been passed by any of the recently deceased though, hadn’t heard anyone that didn’t sound like those that were already here.

“Where is the Temple of Light?” Casteval asked. Perhaps he’d just gotten there in a moment of peace, and he was the only one trying to make it through the darkness so far.

“Don’t want to go there, why would the Not Casteval want to go there?” Femerall didn’t answer.

“Well, there should be a lot of people here, shouldn’t there? No point in having so many parasites if there’s nothing for them to feed on. People die, often, easily. I shouldn’t be the only not shadow thing here.”

Femerall paused and Casteval had to assume they were making some motion that he couldn’t see. He wanted to pull the light out, see better with it. The things gripping at his feet were crawling higher under his pant legs, trying to get to his knees.

“Don’t know. We’ve been gone so long. Don’t know. Hungry though.”

“You should go somewhere with more food,” Casteval suggested.

“We have the tastiest food right here,” Femerall replied.

Casteval turned, suddenly, trying to catch Femerall off guard, but they were quick and hid behind him once more, letting him only see a few long tendrils of darkness follow them. Femerall preyed on the masses, that was their way, but there were no masses. Casteval was the only meal available. Femerall had said it was a mistake to free them, back when he had.

Casteval had the sinking suspicion that he’d been led into a false sense of security.

He couldn’t hear the other things as well, they were all too far off. Femerall wanted him alone.

Casteval gripped the sword hilt in one hand, feeling the darkness wrap around his hand. He couldn’t tell if it was the darkness within the sword or not. Regardless, he yanked it from it’s makeshift sheath, brandishing it before himself, trying to turn and force Femerall before him.

“The Not Casteval is starting to smell like the Casteval!” Femerall complained, the voice in Casteval’s ear, too close for comfort. “Is the Not Casteval getting closer?”

Casteval pulled the bottle out from under his shirt, under his jacket. He heard a screech, too loud in his ear, bitter and bright, and then the scurrying of slithering sound of a shadows feet through shadowy appendages. The lavender light shocked Femerall away, and Casteval saw it, it’s body a combination of black ooze, small and long tentacles, and short finger-like worms, traveling around that white mask-like face and blackened bones. The bones were more obvious as the light hit them, the covering burning away as they scrambled and screamed, trying to hid behind something.

They hid behind a black pillar, which was growing the same kind of noodly fingers on the side that the light didn’t quite reach well enough.

“We are friend! Friend of the Not Casteval!” Femerall cried out.

“Weren’t you just mentioning eating me?” Casteval stepped towards them. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d misinterpreted something, though he doubted that was the case now. “That I was turning into the Casteval? That’s not going to happen. Neither part.”

“No, the Casteval would hurt us! Would punish us! Trap us in the light!” Femerall howled. “The Not Casteval is our friend, would let us hide in the dark! Would let us do our purpose!”

That wasn’t denial, nor was it an excuse. That wasn’t much of anything. Casteval kept the light out, seeing the bones on the floor, all mangled to the point that he could hardly tell if they were once human. The shapes were about right, as were the sizes, but they’d been eaten, splintered, and broken. He hadn’t noticed them earlier, walking on a carpet of those tendrils, which were now nowhere near, all in the shadows of those who had fallen for the parasites tricks.

The pillar that Femerall was hiding behind was deeply grooved with the fossil of a shell, larger than Casteval’s torso. He didn’t know what had come here before them, before this place had been filled with the shadows that devoured whatever came through, but he was glad it wasn’t there now.

He could fight shadows.

“I’m looking for something,” Casteval grit out, slowing his steps. “I’ll put the light away, let you get out of here, if you tell me where to find it.”

“The Temple of Light? Yes, yes, we know where it is!” Femerall begged. Casteval felt terrible, as if he were torturing them instead of just keeping them away.

“No, I can find that on my own.” Casteval was curious, of course, but it wasn’t necessary. He’d only wanted that to find out what had happened to the souls that were supposed to be there. The crunching of a rib beneath his boot both stalled him and answered his question. “I’m looked for Casteval’s armor. I was told it would be here.”

“Don’t know! We don’t know!” Femerall shuddered. “We just got here. The darkness buried it, tried to cleanse it of light. Tried to eat it but there was nothing within. Buried or stolen or missing or found. We don’t know!”

Casteval lowered the light but did not cover it. He was trying to be quick about this. He could see things, moving in the distance, things that were low to the ground, trying to stay in the darkness. He almost felt bad for them, aside from all of the bones he was passing.

“How can I trust that you won’t try to eat me or something the moment the light is gone?”

“Ha! We have no mouth! We cannot eat! The Not Casteval can trust us! Yes yes, we will be good to our word.”

Casteval didn’t believe them. There were a lot of things, out in the world, that had no mouths and still were able to eat. He put the light under his shirt all the same, though he didn’t close his jacket, turning the lavender light into a blotchy, darker violet color.

“I’m going to hide the light and count to ten. That’s how long you have to get out of here,” Casteval could hear a snarl start to form in his voice. He’d never been one to want to cause undue harm and he knew that ten seconds wouldn’t be enough to escape that. Still, he had anger flaring in him, an anger that he wasn’t used to.

“Yes, yes! Ten! We know what ten is!” Femerall called back.

Casteval covered the light, closing his eyes, so as not to feel so isolated within it. He counted, loudly, hearing the rustling of Femerall’s movements, going further away from him, at least. He could hear the sound of growth as well, of vines spreading, growing faster than they should, of bones crunching underneath. He could feel those tendrils wrap around his feet once more. It didn’t take long for the darkness to refill it’s own space.

At ten he pulled the light free and the darkness burned away once more. He was alone, Femerall no where in sight.

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