The cistern wasn’t a place. It was a state of being. Wet, empty, dead—but never truly silent. Nothing is ever silent down here. The walls breathe. The water whispers. And what waits in the dark does not forgive.
I moved like a shadow trapped in a dream—my flail heavier than usual, my steps louder even when I made none. The shadows were thicker. Something knew I was coming. They waited: the Bringer of Silence, the Bringer of Nullity, the Bringer of Stillness. Not guardians. Not names. Concepts. Dressed in blood and hate.
The first struck without warning—silence, pure and suffocating. No rattle of chains. No drip of water. No breath. Only his eyes, void-black and endless. I lashed out, unsure if I even struck. Blood answered where sound failed. He fell quietly. Death without echo.
The second was worse. Nullity. I lost all sense of time, of direction. My body, weightless. My thoughts, gone. I moved without reason, blocked without knowing. He carved through reality like it was soft clay. Only pain reminded me I still existed.
The third brought stillness. Not peace—paralysis. No space for doubt. No air to breathe. His blows were slow, deliberate, cruel. I staggered. I struck. I fell, and rose again. We danced in tight circles, bound by exhaustion. I don’t know how long it lasted. But when it ended, I was the one left standing.
It was brief. And it was painful. But I still breathe.
My flail rests in my hand, fingers blistered. My shield is scratched and loose. But I endure. The cistern lies behind me. Its ghosts are fed. Its echoes fading.
But something inside me changed. Something went quiet.
And quiet does not mean weak.
Only more resolute.
#LotF2023 #Cistern #LordsOfTheFallen #Partisan #Heilay
Accompany the partisan Heilay on her journey: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQRPy70pDgKXsdb4gtFobn-vOZqhx2QGS
