The Longest Journey, part III: Gordrath's Spine

The dwarf’s words lingered in the air, slipping through Rohan’s grasp like smoke. He stood frozen, disbelief rooting him in place. Every instinct screamed at him to move, to flee, yet he couldn’t. Fear was overwhelming as the irrational certainty that any motion would shatter the fragile reality surrounding him made his feet feel heavy. His mind was lost in a storm of fragmented thoughts. No matter how hard he tried to make sense of it, the events of the past minutes defied comprehension. One moment, he had been falling, plunging headfirst into a bottomless abyss- willingly, as mad as that seemed- and the next, he stood here.

Here. In this impossible, unearthly realm, facing a stranger who spoke his name with the familiarity of an old friend.

Rohan’s gaze shifted to the dwarf, meeting that infuriatingly self-assured smile that cut through the shadows as if everything around them were nothing but a jest. The dwarf’s dark eyes gleamed, catching the flickering light from the strange, luminous rock formations nearby. His armor, worn and battered from countless journeys, barely peeked from beneath the loose folds of a priestly cloak draped over his shoulders.

Run. Every fiber of his being was screaming. Turn away. Disappear into the abyss.

"That was a rough fall, eh, sailor?" The dwarf’s voice sliced through the oppressive silence, startling Rohan from his daze. His tone was casual, almost amused, as he straightened from where he’d been leaning against a jagged wall. With an unhurried air, he shrugged off the heavy pack slung across his back. “You holding up okay?”

“Am I...” Rohan’s voice faltered, the words catching in his throat. His thoughts scattered like shards of a shattered mirror. The question was absurd, laughable even, yet it hung in the air like some desperate grasp at normalcy. Panic flared in its wake, washing over him like a wave. “No! No, I’m not holding up at all! Where are we? What is this place? And who in the nine hells are you?”

“Name’s Kargass,” he said, his voice even and unhurried, as if they were meeting in a tavern instead of this nightmarish void. He gestured broadly to their alien surroundings, the faint light glinting off the battered metal of his armor. “And this... well, this is the Deeps. Figured you’d have put that much together by now.”

Neither the face of this man nor his name struck any chord in Rohan’s memory. The symbols adorning his cloak, however... those said a very different story. He’d seen them before, etched onto the dice of desperate gamblers, dangling as talismans around sailors’ necks, and scrawled in chalk on tavern doors before high-stakes games. They were the marks of Levar, god of fortune and mischief- the patron of gamblers, tricksters, and those bold or foolish enough to tempt fate. Rohan had whispered hurried prayers to Him more than once, fleeting moments of hope wrapped in superstition, muttered under his breath before risking it all at the card table.But the clerics of Levar were another matter entirely.

Stories about them clung to conversations like cobwebs, unwelcome yet impossible to ignore. Too outlandish to be entirely believed, yet too persistent to dismiss. They were said to bring chaos wherever they roamed- harbingers of misfortune who reveled in twisting the fates of those unlucky enough to cross their paths. Rohan had long dismissed such tales as tavern gossip, the kind of nonsense that grew in the shadows of dimly lit rooms.But now, standing in this dark, unfathomable place, the whispered warnings seemed uncomfortably real.

“You look like you’ve had your fill of bad luck,” Kargass said, his voice breaking through Rohan’s thoughts. The warmth in his expression softened the sharp edge of his words, leaving Rohan uncertain whether to be reassured or wary. Without realizing it, he took a step back.

“Don’t worry, Rohan.” The dwarf’s tone was light, almost disarmingly casual, yet deliberate- like a man tiptoeing around a fragile truth. “I’m not here to make your life harder.”

“Why are you helping me?” The question escaped before Rohan could stop it, his voice raw with desperation and doubt. His gaze narrowed, flitting to the chains rattling lightly against his wrists. “You don’t strike me as the charitable type.”

Kargass barked a short, sharp laugh, the sound echoing faintly in the unnatural stillness. “Fair enough, lad. I’m no saint, and I’ve got my own reasons for being here.” His eyes gleamed with a spark of mischief, and he added with a wink, “But seeing someone shackled? Doesn’t sit right with me. Call it a pet peeve.”

He stepped closer, his movements calm and fluid, as if practiced over a lifetime. His gaze dropped meaningfully to Rohan’s wrists.

“Those chains… they don’t suit you,” Kargass said, his voice quieter now, edged with a sincerity that made Rohan’s chest tighten. “I can help with that.”

The dwarf reached out, his hand steady, though his smile remained laced with an enigmatic charm. “What do you say? Being bound for too long doesn’t do good things to the spirit.”

“Why?” Rohan asked again, his voice quieter now, laden with doubt. “What’s your game? You’re a priest of the Trickster, aren’t you? Aren’t you supposed to bring chaos? Misfortune?”

Kargass smiled, a touch more earnestly this time, though his dark eyes remained unreadable. “You think I pulled you out of that pit just to let you wonder the Deeps alone- shackled, confused, and likely dead by dawn? I’m not that cruel, lad.” His smile softened, and for a fleeting moment, it almost seemed genuine. “Besides, we’ve got places to be. And you’ll need to be ready for the journey ahead.”

Before Rohan could protest, Kargass stepped closer, the air between them suddenly charged. The dwarf’s hands hovered above the chains, his fingers tracing unseen patterns in the air. His lips moved, barely audible, murmuring words that slid through Rohan’s comprehension like water slipping through his fingers.

At first, nothing happened.

Then, a faint, ethereal glow bloomed around the bindings, light spilling into the gloom. With a soft click the chains fell away, clattering to the ground like discarded burdens. Rohan stared at his freed wrists, the raw, bruised skin stark against the dim light. He flexed his fingers, rolling his neck as if rediscovering his own body. The sudden release left him lightheaded, the freedom disorienting.

“Better?” Kargass asked, his tone unruffled.

Rohan didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the marks the chains had left behind, his mind struggling to process the shift. Then, as if snapping back to the moment, he glanced up- just in time to see the dwarf place a bundle of cloth at his feet.

“Take them,” Kargass said, his voice brisk. “They’re simple, but they’ll do."

Rohan hesitated before crouching to pick up the garments. The fabric, soft and clean, felt almost alien against his skin- a relic of a life that now seemed impossibly distant.

"We must hurry." Kargass stated grabbing his pack once more, "We need to reach the Spine.”

“The Spine?” Rohan asked as he dressed, his voice sharp with confusion. “What is that?”

“Gordrath’s Spine,” Kargass replied. For the first time since their meeting, Rohan caught a flicker of unease in the dwarf’s voice. “It’s our way out. The only one I know, at least. We’re close, but…” He trailed off, his expression tightening. “It’s not going to be easy. You’ll need more than wits to get through.”

Kargass pulled a spared shortsword that hung from his belt. Its blade was plain but well-forged, the hilt catching the faint, ghostly light of the Deeps. He held it out to Rohan.

He hesitated again, staring first at the weapon, then at Kargass. His hand reached for the hilt, closing around it as though the blade could anchor him in the storm of confusion. He turned it over, testing the weight. It was solid, real; a fragment of clarity in an otherwise incomprehensible situation.

“I know you’ve got questions,” Kargass said, his voice softer now. “And I’ll answer them. But not here. This place… it messes with time. With your mind. Trust me, lad, we need to move.”

Rohan nodded, gripping the sword tightly. Its weight steadied him even as the ground beneath him felt precariously thin. He fell into step behind Kargass, the dwarf’s stride sure and steady as they moved through the oppressive darkness of the Deeps. As they moved one thing clung to Rohan’s mind, like a whisper he couldn’t escape.

What am I walking into this time?

The caverns stretched endlessly ahead. The ceiling was vanishing into an abyss of impenetrable darkness, broken only by the faint, ghostly glow of bioluminescent fungi clinging to jagged outcroppings. Veins of luminous blue and green coursed through the walls, pulsing like the lifeblood of the cavern itself. Crimson and violet crystalline formations jutted out at unnatural angles, catching the faint light and casting eerie, fractured reflections across the stone.

Beneath Rohan's boots, the ground shimmered with a fine dust, its particles shifting the dim glow with spectral hues. Strange, alien plants sprouted from crevices, their twisted, skeletal limbs curling as if reaching for something unseen. The air hung heavy with dampness, each breath laden with a chill that sank into his bones and tightened around his chest. Distant echoes filled the cavern- a haunting symphony of moans, high-pitched calls, and faint, rhythmic clicking. The sounds seemed to shift and converge, wrapping around his ears like whispers from a thousand unseen mouths. They felt alive, the pulse of a realm untouched by sunlight.

Ahead, Kargass moved with an ease that seemed almost unnatural. The dwarf’s heavy pack hung casually over one shoulder as his boots crunched softly against the uneven ground. Despite the oppressive weight of their surroundings, he hummed a low, rhythmic tune that grew steadily louder with each step.

The melody nagged at Rohan, distant yet oddly familiar, tugging at the edges of his mind until recognition hit like a wave. It was a shanty, the kind sailors sang during long voyages to steady their nerves and pass the endless hours at sea. It felt absurdly out of place here, in this unearthly cavern where even the air seemed to hum with menace.

At first, Rohan said nothing, focusing on steadying his footing on the uneven ground. But the dwarf’s humming persisted, and as the jolly tune won over the eerie silence, it finally got into his fraying nerves.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Rohan snapped, his voice cutting through the oppressive quiet like a blade. “Why are you humming that?”

Kargass stopped mid-note and turned toward Rohan- his expression a mask of innocent surprise. “You don’t like it?” he asked, with the glint of mischief returning in his eyes. “It’s the only pirate shanty I know. Thought it might make you feel a bit more at home.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Rohan’s voice echoed sharply through the cavern, reverberating off the jagged walls. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing into hard slits. “How do you even know I was a pirate? Or my name, for that matter? You’ve been acting like we’re old friends, but I’ve never laid eyes on you before.”

Kargass tilted his head, the grin fading just enough to reveal a flicker of something deeper, more calculating. He crossed his arms, leaning his weight onto one leg as though settling in for a debate. “Well,” he began, his voice calm and measured, “you’ve got the look of a man who’s seen the open seas- and more trouble than most. Besides…” He tapped the side of his temple with a finger. “I’ve got my ways. When you’ve been roaming this world as long as I have, you learn how to read people.”

Rohan didn’t budge, his jaw tightening. Kargass sighed, motioning with a hand as if brushing the matter aside. “Look, lad, we’ve dallied long enough. We need to move.”

As Kargass turned to resume walking,something inside Rohan snapped. He was done- done with riddles, done with games, done with feeling like a pawn in a story he didn’t understand. He let the sword fall to the ground. His body moved on instinct, and he charged forward as if he was back in the center of the Horned Arena, fighting for his life.

by Imagica via Midjourney

The punch landed on the dwarf's jaw with a sickening crack, sending him stumbling half-step back. For a fleeting moment, Rohan thought he’d finally gotten through to him. But Kargass merely wiped the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand, his expression hardening into something cold and unyielding- similar to the stone walls surrounding them.

“Have you got it out of your system?” he asked, his voice low and razor-sharp. His gaze locked onto Rohan’s, unflinching, unwavering.

Rohan staggered back, his fists still clenched but faltering. His breath came in ragged bursts, the pent-up frustration still steering beneath his skin. “Just tell me dammit..." he said behind grinded teeth, "... tell me, what you want from me!”

Kargass stared him down, the heavy silence between them broken only by the faint hum of the cavern and the strange whispers of unseen creatures. Slowly, he drew a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. “I want to help you,” he finally said sounding almost defeated, “And I hope, in turn, you’ll help us back.”

“Us?” Rohan asked, the word slipping from his mouth without concent.

Kargass hesitated, his gaze darting cautiously around the cavern. The glow of the alien plants painted his face with shifting hues that make him look even more surreal in Rohan's eyes. Finally, he sighed and the mischief of his demeanor was immediately replaced by something heavier.

“Aye. Us. There’s more at stake here than just you or me, lad. A lot more." He picked up his pack and gestured for Rohan to follow. "We need to keep moving. This is not the place for explanations. But I'll say this much... you’re special, Rohan. And I think deep down you already know it.”

"Special? What the hell is that suppose to mean?"

Kargass wasn't looking at him. He was walking faster now, wary of their surroundings that seemed to closing in with every passing moment. Nevertheless, he answered. "It means you are the bearer of a power as ancient as gods themselves. You are one of the rune masters."

"You are mad."

“Am I, though?” Kargass tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “You've felt it, haven't you lad? That whisper at the edge of your thoughts? That pull, dark and hungry, pushing you toward something you couldn’t explain?”

Rohan felt these words reaching into his mind, giving new meaning to memories he could not explain. What Kargass described didn't sound crazy at all. He've felt it as he stood inches away from freedom, mere minutes before. He remember the strange thoughts that filled his mind in the sight of that vault door. It seemed so natural then to think that freedom will mean nothing without the riches hidden behind that place. Now the thought was insane, but then... if only for a moment, it seemed... right. He remembered how hard it was to resist that urge. He shook his head violently, as if to dislodge the thought. "What are you?” he demanded, his voice low and trembling. “Some kind of demon? A puppet master pulling strings?"

Kargass stopped abruptly, spinning on his heel to face Rohan. His eyes gleamed like steel. A demon?” he repeated, his voice sharp. “No, lad. I’m no demon, and I’m sure as hell not your master. I’m the Lord of Greed, which means I’m bound to the sin itself. I can sense the bearers of its runes, no matter where they are. That's how I find you. But let me make one thing clear: I don’t command anyone. Freedom’s the only thing worth fighting for in this world, and I’d die before I take it from someone else.”

Rohan glared at him, his fists finally relaxing on his side. “And why should I trust you?”

Kargass’ voice softened. “Because I’m the only one who can help you before it’s too late. You escaped one prison already, Rohan. Are you sure you want to lose yourself to another?”

The words hit like a thunderclap, the echo lingering in the silence between them. Rohan exhaled sharply and trudged after Kargass. “This better be worth it, dwarf,”

Kargass smirked but didn’t reply. He led the way deeper into the twisting labyrinth of the Deeps. The air grew colder, the bioluminescent plants giving way to jagged crystals that glowed faintly with an otherworldly light. Each step felt heavier, the oppressive atmosphere thick with unseen malice. Then they turned a corner, and Rohan froze.

Before them loomed the Spine.

The towering crystalline structure spiraled endlessly upward, vanishing into the void. Its vast surface shimmered like liquid glass, hues of blue, green, and gold shifting and blending in mesmerizing patterns, as if the spire breathed with the rhythm of some ancient force. The air around it thrummed with a deep, primal resonance sending shivers down Rohan’s spine. Each step toward it felt heavier, the very atmosphere suffused with a power too vast for mortal comprehension.

He halted, his gaze locked on the immense monolith, his breath shallow. The intense smell of sulfur was confusing his senses. “What is this place?” he whispered, his voice swallowed by the oppressive hum.

Beside him, Kargass stood motionless, his expression both grim and reverent. “Gordrath’s Spine,” he said at last, his voice low, almost respectful. “We dwarves believe it’s the remnants of a titan- one too vast, too ancient to comprehend. A creature turned to crystal and stone during the age of Purification, still feeding from the realms it bridges. Others call it the Axis Eternal, a natural formation holding the world itself together. Shadow elves name it Valasan's Path. They claim they built it as a final escape route when the destruction of Pariant came for them.”

by Imagica via Midjourney

Rohan’s brow furrowed as he dragged his eyes from the spine’s spiraling paths, which wound upward in impossible curves. The intricate crystalline structure seemed too precise, too deliberate to be natural, and yet it pulsed with a living energy that defied any craftsmanship. “You make it sound like it’s alive.”

Kargass let out a hollow chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “Alive? Perhaps. Or something worse. It doesn’t matter what it is. It’s our only way out of the Deeps And if we hesitate, these cursed tunnels will finish us long before the Spine does.”

Rohan tightened his grip on his sword as Kargass’s words echoed in his mind. “You don’t actually believe that titan nonsense, do you?” he asked.

Kargass met his gaze with a look so dark and solemn it left Rohan in unease. “You’d be a fool not to,” the dwarf replied. “There are truths deeper than what mortals can grasp, and this holds more than most can bear. Call it what you will- a titan, a construct, a natural wonder- but it’s not just a spire.”

“A death trap, then. Great. Just what I needed,” Rohan muttered, more to himself than to Kargass.

The dwarf snorted, already moving forward. “Better a death trap with a chance of escape than a grave with none. Come on, lad. Let's see if you are as stubborn as you look.”

For a moment, Rohan remained rooted, staring up at the shimmering wonder. Its spiraling paths glittered with eerie light, reflections of the Deeps’ strange glow dancing across its mirrored surface. It felt as though the spine were watching him, weighing him, judging his worth. The whispers of the Deeps grew louder, urging him toward the crystalline colossus. He swallowed hard and followed Kargass, each step a battle against the suffocating sense of insignificance.

---

The air seemed to shift as Rohan followed Kargass. The Spine loomed ominously as they approached its base, a sentinel of crystalline beauty and silent menace. Its surface shimmered with life, pulses of light and shadow weaving together like a reflection of the universe itself. For a moment, Rohan thought he saw something- movement, a flicker of motion across the spire- but when he blinked, it was gone, replaced by the smooth, ever-changing surface.

The atmosphere grew colder the higher they climbed, the air thickening as if it was rejecting their presence. It was harder to breathe now. As they ascended, Rohan’s reflection in the mirrored surface of the Spine shifted, distorted, flickering like a dying flame. He caught glimpses of his own face and for a moment, his image seemed… wrong.

There was something unnerving about seeing himself here, in this place, as though the Spine was not just reflecting his body but his soul. The thought made his skin crawl. Was the Spine showing him who he truly was, or was it merely toying with him? He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was watching him- watching them both.

“You’re thinking too much, lad,” Kargass said without looking back, his voice oddly steady against the stillness. “The Spine does that. It plays with your mind. Don’t listen to it.”

His gaze dropped to the dark depths below them, the black void that stretched beneath the glassy surface of the Spine. The vertigo was immediate, his stomach lurching with the awareness that one misstep could send him plunging into the unknown. His body tensed instinctively, and his grip on the hilt of his sword tightened. But it wasn’t the drop that unsettled him. It was something else. Something deeper.

The words Kargass had spoken earlier echoed in his mind: A rune master of Greed. What did it mean? Rohan’s hand slid over the hilt of his sword, and for a moment, he could feel something else, some presence tugging at the edge of his awareness, like a whisper at the back of his mind, one that gnawed at him relentlessly. The darkness that swirled in his chest... it had no place here. And yet, there it was, lingering, as it had for so long.

Rohan’s pulse quickened, the sensation of being watched growing stronger with each step. The air grew colder still, and a low hum filled the silence, vibrating through his chest. It was almost as if the Spine had sensed the darkness within him, responding to the ancient energies that thrummed through its crystalline veins.

The whispers... the urges... they felt all too familiar...

Suddenly, the mist around them thickened, swirling as if in response to his thoughts, coiling like a living thing. It was then that he saw him- the boy.

Aric.

He stood before him, solid and real, yet not real at all. His face- young, innocent, filled with the hope that Rohan had failed to protect- was framed by the mist. Aric’s eyes locked onto his, and the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them in the vast emptiness.

“Why didn’t you protect me, Captain?” Aric’s voice rang out, echoing in the air like a hammer crushing Rohan's heart. It wasn’t a kid’s voice anymore, but the harsh, accusing tone of a lost soul, a boy betrayed by the man who had sworn to protect him.

Rohan froze, the weight of guilt pressing down on him like a physical force. He had failed Aric. He had promised to protect him, but instead, Aric had died on that raid. Died because of Rohan’s rashness, his impulsive decision to attack the Black Chains’ ship. The memory came crashing back: the violent, chaotic battle. The slavers’ ships overwhelming them out of no where, the blood, the screams, and in the center of it all Aric’s lifeless body.

“I… I tried,” Rohan whispered, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I...”

“You failed!” Aric interrupted, stepping closer, his face twisting into an expression of sorrow and anger. “You failed me. Captain.”

He was my son... The thought hit him like a dagger to the gut, and for the first time in years, the truth of it became undeniable. He had never told the boy. Never shared the truth, never raised him, never gave him the chance to know his real father. Aric had grown up with his mentor, Malik, Rohan’s only true family. And when he perished Rohan made the promise to protect the boy. His boy. His only son. Guilt gnawed at him like a gangrenous wound.

“I’m sorry,” Rohan muttered through clenched teeth, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry... I couldn’t protect you...”

Aric’s image flickered, his expression shifting, and the voice, no longer full of accusation, turned softer. “You didn’t protect me because you never cared. Not really.”

“Aric... I... I am sorry...” The words came out weak, like the last remnants of something he could no longer hold onto.

"Sorry?" Aric’s face twisted in a cruel mockery of a smile. "That’s all you have to say? You let me die, and you think sorry is enough?"

Rohan’s breath quickened. His chest was tight, suffocating, as the guilt came crashing in on him once again. The urge to let go was unbearable, to fall, to end the pain. But the boy wasn’t done.

“Go ahead, then, you coward!” Aric said, his voice dark and venomous. “Jump. End it. It’s what you deserve. You couldn’t protect me. You never could. You couldn’t save anyone.”

The mist swirled around them as Rohan felt the ground slip beneath him. Aric’s face before him was too much, and the weight of the loss and guild crushed him. The whisper of the Spine’s power echoed in his mind, urging him to leap into the abyss. Without thinking, Rohan took a step forward, his heart pounding, his thoughts a blur.

End it. End it now.

“Rohan! No!”

Kargass’ sharp voice cut through the fog. His grip around Rohan's wrist was iron, with a strength that broke the illusion as he pulled him up. “You’re not done yet, lad. You don’t get to throw your life away- not now, not like this.”

Rohan’s breath shuddered in his chest. He blinked, and Aric’s figure was gone, vanishing into the mist like a wisp of smoke. The pressure in his chest remained and for a moment, all he could do was stare at the dwarf, who was now holding him steady, grounding him.

“I’m sorry,” Rohan choked, his voice raw with pain, his eyes welling with tears. "I failed... I failed him..."

“We all fail, lad,” Kargass said, his voice rough but steady. “But you are not letting this break you. We’ll deal with this together. Come on, let's move. The summit is close and so is the portal leading home.”

Rohan’s body trembled, the weight of his past and the power of the Spine threatening to consume him. But against all odds, Kargass didn’t let go. Rohan gasped for air as he reached the most unexpected realization.

He wasn’t alone. Not anymore.