THEY came onto a dirt trail just as the clouds above began to darken and thunder. The humidity of the area rose, mist soon covered their path, and the small drops of drizzle turned quickly into torrential downpour. They took refuge under Vrihkhaḥ, who, having been ignored until now, was vexed by the others taking shelter under him.
Hastening along the path, they went from hill to hill, until reaching a thicket of trees ascending atop a larger hill. And proceeding into it while cutting down the vines and branches obstructing their path, they soon came out the other end of which there were stairs long and wide as before. Scaling them, they reached the summit from where the black hole came in full view and the space surrounding it looked as if to be shattered like a mirror. The darkness seemed to leak through faint crevices as it warped about the curvature of the dome onto the surface. They passed through with hesitation, but on crossing to the other side, the area became familiar as the passage lit and they could once more see the smooth shine of the ruins. The walls arched, and the path was spread long, and the air was still as their footsteps echoed.
Arriving at the end of the path, they stood on a causeway reaching to a massive inner chamber whose circular rim stretched down far into the depths of where it did not seem even the light could reach. The end of the ceiling itself could not be seen, with only a small dot of light at the top. Projecting from the center of the surface were many slits and sunken down lines that warped into a spiral.
When they were about to step onto the platform, Yūrmatṛtha halted the group. At that moment, a great light burst from the rim and it streamed together into a form great, resplendent, and effulgent! As the brightness waned, they could see sparks arcing and the lines of its form in a shade of blue cutting all across. Tūmbṃār looked above in awe, his sight filled with what stood before him. No doubt it stood many hundreds of feet tall and as it bent down, its knees and hands on the surface, to look at them, it lunged its head forward and a booming voice echoed in the halls:
Who hast thou brought, Yūrmatṛtha? Are these to be the ones to deliver me from these wretched halls of death and silence. Long have I been trapped by the walls of this infernal place, no sight of the outside light or sights to be had, but that small dot upon the ceiling, as if to taunt me. Curse those gods for leaving me here to waste away! Yūrmatṛtha, I dearly hope these people are ones who can help me acquire what I wish. The desire of my heart: A Bolt of Dusdrahaḥ that seemeth to power this space and which my heart has craved for so long; to at last be able to exact my vengeance!
Yūrmatṛtha bent down and motioned the others to do the same, who were still stunned from the voice greater and sharper than even the giant snake’s. When all were knelt, he said, “Hail O Lightning Giant, Great of the Grahuvizātan: Sthūrthaṇār! Indeed, I have brought this company to collect the desire of your heart. They, unlike the others, have the blessings of the Dehaḥṃār, and though you may despise them, no doubt it should very much help in seeking your endeavor. Will you assent to our descent to the sanctum below?”
The voice thundered and said:
Though the Dehaḥṃār aid thee, it matters not to me; use whatever means thou hast to acquire it. Step back from the outer ring of the circle, for I shall now open the way for ye.
The group did as they were bade, and Sthūrthaṇār rose from his knees and disintegrated into light and lightning, the bolts of which struck all sides of the hall and boomed upon clashing. The surface below glowed white and blue, and the concentric pieces spun in opposite directions, expanding back to reveal a deep path with a spiraling staircase, sized just well enough for the giant’s feet.
The voice once more spoke, but it was gentle and weak:
I shall remain in the confines of this passage. Think not of me as being of much help. Much power it taketh to keep this pass open, and I have grown weary and famished over the long years spent idle in this hall. Beware of the specters that lurk within; I know not whence they came, but terrible is their power and form, and they shall do as they must in obstruction to thy path.
And no sooner had he finished did Tūmbṃār and Iḷēhaḥ quiver in fright. Their skin prickled and tingled. They could sense the foul lurker of that dark passage and wished to not have to descend it. Tūmbṃār much more so, for having encountered the specters before and knowing that no more should aid come to him, let alone the others, it felt to him all the more futile to acquire the Giant’s desire.
His awe of the giant quickly having dissipated, he said to the others, “Can we not journey down? I’d much rather leave this place than stay longer.”
Now this seemed unusual to some of the group, for they had grown used to his determined attitude. Feyūnhaḥ bent down and said, “What is it you see? It couldn’t be the deathly being for at least I, Iḷēhaḥ, Vrihkhaḥ, Nakthaḥm, and perhaps Sanyhaḥmān have realized his presence and you don’t seem to be afraid of him any longer.”
His mouth shook, and he looked toward the passage that seemed to darken in his view. The black abyss seemed to stretch far and wide, no different from the illusion that was cast upon them in the cave where they had found the Dvhaḥṣhtro.
Tūmbṃār took a few steps back until he was stopped by two hands on his shoulder. They looked to be shining, warm of light, and when he turned, he thought he saw the deathly being, but it was none other than Iḷēhaḥ whose left arm had still not stopped in its shaking since their departure from Gazhigashrahthya.
He could not tell whether she was afraid, but she nodded her head and said, “Tell them of what you have seen, for I see the same thing as you, but you seem to have experienced it much longer than me. And perhaps you will also tell us of what it is you are hiding, for I know you—as like the others—have been keeping things from us.”
