It’s the Latin alphabet but not the actual Latin language.
And the only reason I know that is because I can read this text.
I say a line out loud. “…azkagu wek div’nusava. Ipis ip’nasava udugab…”
…bind fast within. Keep safe for all eternity…
One of the nearby spells flares to life, stirred by my invocation.
My eyes pass over the rest of the text. Whatever this language is, it’s something else, something from far away and long ago that seems to make my blood sing and my heart awaken.
An itchy, restless feeling stirs beneath my skin. It’s that same feeling I get when I come across a hole in my memory. I feel turned inside out.
There may be things I can no longer remember, but then there are things I do inexplicably know.
Latin is one of them.
Latin and apparently whatever this language is.
I want to linger here and read this spellwork, just to taste this language on my tongue again. It…evokes some dear but unnamable emotion in me, something I’ve only felt in dreams.
But the longer I stand still, the more that blue magic coils around me. I can now sense the presence it belongs to beckoning me closer.
I tear my attention away from the wall and move on.
The narrow hall eventually opens into a chamber as large as my apartment, the entire space already lit by torches.
The room is decorated from top to bottom with more writing and images of fantastical beasts. I see griffins and deer with antlers that morph into the branches of nearby trees. I only spare it all a passing glance.
It’s what lies at the center of the room that grabs my attention.
Nero lounges on a massive block of white marble, the stone intricately carved to resemble a massive tree trunk. The fae who surely carved this went to great lengths to capture the texture of the bark and even what appear to be tree rings on the exposed end.
The trail of magic ends there, disappearing into the carved stone through a seam that runs the length of it.
It’s not simply a block of stone stylized to look like a massive felled tree.
It’s a sarcophagus, and this chamber, a crypt.
And yet…there’s something alive in this place. Something that lies in that stone coffin beneath Nero.
Horror rises in me as I muse on that. Whatever’s inside that coffin is alive enough to call to me.
How long have they been trapped here?
My queen…
Goose bumps pebble along my skin. The voice is so much louder and more intimate here in this room.
At last, you have come…
It is only now that I realize this voice has not been speaking to me in English. I just understood it as such. In fact, I understood it so well that I hadn’t even thought to question what language it was. But I think it’s the same one written on the walls.
That deep-blue magic pushes at my back, interrupting my thoughts and urging me toward the sarcophagus.
A chill sweeps over me as, reluctantly, I return my gaze to that coffin. As though I can’t help myself, I step closer.
Nero stands then and hops off the lid, exposing a smooth rectangular section of marble inscribed with more lines of text, though it’s hard to make out what it says from here. Ropes and ropes of spells cover the entire sarcophagus, the torchlight flickering off the phantom sheen of them.
The sheer quantity of spells looks excessive, but then, I don’t know what sort of being it contains, only that they were able to lure me here while trapped beneath it all.
I lick my dry lips, more of my misgivings bubbling up. I close the last of the distance to the coffin, peering down at the lid.
I run my fingers over the writing inscribed there, feeling the divots where someone painstakingly carved them into the stone. That simple brush of my hand is enough to release the knot of spells. The threads of them split and unravel, and the released magic blows my hair back as it passes through the chamber, making the flames dance wildly in their sconces for a second before resettling.
My fingers trace the inscribed letters, and I form the words on my lips. “Zoginutasa vaksasava vexvava ozakosa pesaguva ekawabiw di’nasava.”
For the love of your gods, beware of me.
Beneath that is a name.
Nu’suwnusavuva Memnon
Memnon the Cursed.
Conflicting emotions roil within me like sand kicked up in the tide. Fear, anticipation, desire.
Empress…
More than anything, I have the overwhelming urge to open the coffin. It goes against good judgment and rational thought, but then, most of today has gone against good judgment and rational thought. Why break from precedent now?
I didn’t come all this way to stop at the last moment.