Chapter 55| A Song With No Answer
They descended into the basin at first light, the blackened earth crunching unnervingly underfoot, the Wailing Leviathan’s mournful cry echoing overhead with a steady, unbroken rhythm that made the entire expedition’s collective nerves fray with every passing minute of their careful, exposed crossing.
"Slowly," Myria murmured, tablet abandoned in favor of careful, visual tracking of the creature’s circling pattern. "It hasn’t changed its rhythm since we entered the basin. That’s either a good sign or a very bad one."
They made it nearly two-thirds of the way across before Everlyn, walking near the front of the column beside Allen, suddenly stopped, palms pressing flat against the scorched earth with urgent, focused concentration.
"What is it?" Allen asked immediately.
Everlyn’s expression shifted through several rapid emotions before she reached for her notepad, hands slightly unsteady. ’It knows we’re here. It’s known since we crossed the ridge. It’s been waiting to see what we’ll do.’
"Then let’s give it something worth waiting for," Allen said, and gestured for the expedition to hold position while he and Everlyn moved forward alone, deliberately unarmed, into the open expanse of blackened earth beneath the Leviathan’s circling shadow.
The massive creature’s cry shifted the moment they stepped forward — no longer purely mournful, but carrying an edge of sharp, wary attention, its vast wings angling downward as it began a slow, deliberate descent toward the basin floor.
Everlyn began humming, softly at first, the same wordless, resonant melody Allen had heard countless times in her garden back home, though here, amplified by whatever strange, ancient magic still lingered within the Hollow Reach’s blackened earth, the sound carried considerably further than her voice alone should have allowed.
The Leviathan’s descent slowed, its massive head tilting with unmistakable, deliberate curiosity as it studied the two small figures standing exposed beneath its shadow.
’It’s listening,’ Everlyn’s expression conveyed even without needing her notepad, wonder and cautious hope mingling plainly across her features.
For a long, suspended moment, nothing happened at all — just the Leviathan’s slow, careful study, and Everlyn’s continued, patient melody rising softly into the twilight sky.
Then the creature’s massive form shuddered, an anguished, discordant note breaking through its earlier mournful cry, and Allen felt Guardian’s Instinct flare with sudden, violent urgency a half-second before the Leviathan’s entire body convulsed, dark, violet energy crackling visibly along its bone-colored hide.
"Move!" Allen shouted, grabbing Everlyn and throwing them both aside as the Leviathan’s massive form crashed down where they’d been standing moments before, the impact sending shockwaves rippling across the entire basin floor.
"It’s fighting itself," Everlyn’s notepad read frantically, held up amid the chaos as the expedition rushed forward to their defense. "Something’s forcing it. It doesn’t want this."
The Leviathan reared back, massive jaws opening in a pained, furious roar, violet energy crackling more intensely along its hide as it turned toward the approaching expedition with clear, if visibly reluctant, aggression.
"Formation!" Myria’s voice cut sharply through the chaos, Barbarian and Elf warriors alike falling into practiced, coordinated defensive positions as the massive creature’s first devastating strike tore through the blackened earth mere meters from their position.
Allen scrambled upright, pulling Everlyn back toward the relative safety of the expedition’s main formation, watching with grim, dawning understanding as the Leviathan’s every movement carried visible, agonized reluctance beneath the raw destructive power it wielded.
"It’s not choosing this," he said, understanding settling with horrible clarity. "Whatever bond ties it to the tear, it’s forcing this fight against its will."
"Understanding that doesn’t make its attacks any less lethal," Vivian said grimly, already moving into position beside him, blade drawn despite her own visible reluctance now that the creature’s tragic circumstance had become clear to all of them. "We need a plan that accounts for both realities, Allen. Fighting it, and freeing it, might need to happen simultaneously."
Myria’s sharp voice carried across the chaos moments later, already adapting their strategy with practiced, urgent precision. "The violet energy along its hide — that’s the corruption point. If we can disrupt it directly, we might be able to sever whatever’s forcing this confrontation without needing to kill the creature outright."
"Then that’s the plan," Allen said, Ashfall Talons blazing to life as he turned to face the massive, grieving Leviathan bearing down upon them. "We fight to free it, not to end it."
Around him, his wives and their newfound allies moved into position with fierce, unified determination, and above the blackened basin, the Wailing Leviathan’s anguished cry rose once more into the churning twilight sky — a sound that carried, beneath its raw destructive power, the unmistakable, heartbreaking weight of eighty years spent trapped in a war it had never once wanted to fight.
"Ashkar," Allen called out, gesturing toward the Leviathan’s massive, corrupted hide, "your warriors know this creature’s old attack patterns better than any of us. Where’s the corruption concentrated most heavily?"
Sera relayed the question rapidly, and Ashkar’s response came back sharp and immediate, gesturing toward a cluster of pulsing violet veins visible along the base of the creature’s massive skull. "The old stories say the tear’s influence enters through the crown," Sera translated. "His grandfather’s generation never got close enough to test the theory properly."
"Then we get close enough," Vivian said, already calculating trajectory and approach with grim, focused determination.
"Carefully," Myria added sharply, ice already gathering at her fingertips as the Leviathan’s massive form reared back for another devastating strike. "This isn’t a straightforward kill. One mistake, and we either lose the chance to free it, or lose people trying."
Irene’s flames roared to sudden, brilliant life beside them, carving a defensive perimeter as the Leviathan’s next strike crashed down, and Allen felt the familiar, steady rhythm of coordinated battle settle over the chaos — five people, and now an entire combined expedition, moving with fierce, unified purpose toward a fight that had, against every grim expectation, become something considerably more complicated than a simple boss encounter.
"Together," Allen said, echoing the word that had carried them through every impossible circumstance before this one, and threw himself forward into the fight, Ashfall Talons blazing bright against the twilight sky.