Ignatius-Valdis [Heaven’s Curse, #0]: Chapter 7

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Gothalia leaned over the man at her feet, her curiosity quickly curdling into a cold, sharp horror as her eyes locked onto the dart buried in his neck. There were no other wounds—no signs of a struggle or a blade—just that single, silent intrusion. A sudden chill settled over her, and she steadied her stance. Her gaze darted to the treeline, her mind racing through the impossible: how had this happened right under their noses, and who was still out there, watching from the darkness of the forest? “Something’s not right,” she said, out loud. Her mind drawing possible conclusions.

“What do you mean?” Anton asked, his eyes on her, pausing meters from her.

Gothalia frowned as she looked down at the man. “Did you knock him out?” she asked, her voice sharp with suspicion. Anton met her gaze, his expression clouded by a mixture of uncertainty and genuine confusion.

“No.” Anton replied, a moment later.

“Who cares!” Maximus growled, already several paces toward the cave’s yawning mouth. “We’re home-free as long as he stays down.” He threw a jagged gesture at the man crumpled in the dirt, then pushed further into the clearing, his stride a silent, arrogant command for the others to fall in. For a fleeting second, Gothalia remained a statue, her gaze locked on Maximus’s retreating back while Anton’s words settled into her mind like lead, heavy and unyielding.

“It wasn’t you.” Gothalia remarked, pointing at Anton, deep in thought.

“I know.” he replied, crossing his arms. “I told you that.”

His patience thinning.

She pointed at Maximus. “It wasn’t him.”

“I know.” Maximus remarked, walking further ahead. “I literally left the cave before you guys. You know I had said: he was already like that.”

Gothalia stepped from the mouth of the cave, her dark eyes drifting over the dense expanse of the jungle. Sweat and grime clung to her skin, drenching her clothes, but she remained indifferent to the discomfort. Even as the sound of footfalls crunched the earth behind her, she didn’ t flinch; the presence didn’t bother her in the slightest. She simply kept her gaze fixed on the wall of green ahead.

“What are you still doing here?” Leviathan asked, his voice laced with genuine confusion. “In any normal circumstance, people would leave their captors without a word and put as much distance between them and their kidnappers as much as possible.”

Anton remarked gesturing to Gothalia, “Clearly, she’s missed that part.”

Gothalia said nothing, her gaze anchored to the dense foliage ahead. Leviathan followed her line of sight, his posture stiffening as he finally made out the shapes she had already found—figures half-swallowed by the forest, their own eyes locked onto them from the deep shadows of the forest.

“Gothalia, let’s go.” Maximus turned with a careless grace, striding toward Gothalia’s mounting storm, hardening and alerting her frame. Her eyes fixed past him. He offered the shadows a wide, arrogant target—a spine exposed to the very dark that hungered for it. He walked as a man already lost to the earth, a blind ghost pacing through the hollow silence of a trap that had already ceased to breathe.

Gothalia watched the shadows alarmed, as Maximus closed the distance, the arrogance in his stride faltered against the sharp terror in Gothalia’s gaze; her eyes were silvered anchors, fixed immovably on the shivering leaves behind him where danger revealed itself. “Don’t tell me that man . . .” he began, his voice trailing into the humid air as he and Anton spun toward the jungle’s breath. Steel sang as their blades left their sheaths, a sharp discord against the sudden quiet, yet Gothalia remained—a statue of bone and breath, her feet rooted deep in the treacherous soil.

In one fluid motion, Leviathan threaded an arrow into his bow, his golden eyes narrowing as he sighted the nearest threat. The figures emerged from the dense green like rot given form—their skin, cloth, and armor choked in a grisly rind of dry mud, matted leaves, and broken twigs. It was a perfect, sickening camouflage that had let the jungle swallow them whole. They carried no refined steel; instead, they gripped heavy axes, notched crossbows, and jagged spears. A cold wave of terror broke over the group, a collective gasp as they drank in the grim reality of the ambush.

“Get inside!” Leviathan’s command tore through the air a heartbeat after a crossbow bolt slammed into the stone inches from Gothalia’s temple. She felt the violent rush of wind as it grazed her cheek, the shaft burying itself deep into the cave wall with a dull, resonant thud. Gothalia didn’t flinch; her face remained a mask of hollow stone, her mind caught in the split-second void between a warning shot and a lethal miss. In a blur of motion, Leviathan lost his own reply, his arrow finding its mark and silencing the warrior who had dared the first strike.

Anton and Maximus lunged into the safety of the cave, Gothalia a frantic shadow at their heels. Leviathan moved backward, a wall of focused precision as he loosed arrow after arrow to hold the line. But the sky seemed to fracture as a relentless volley of enemy bolts stormed the entrance, the sheer weight of the iron rain forcing them deeper into the throat of the mountain.

“Run!” Leviathan roared, seeing the group hovering in the flickering light, paralyzed by the sight of him. They turned and fled, their boots echoing like thunder against the cavern floor as they vanished into the dark, the mud-caked hunters already hot on their scent.

* * *

Upon reaching the Centratus Bastion—the soaring heart of the royal family’s power—Danteus, Asashin, and Altair pulled their mounts to a halt. They dismounted at the outer gates, the heavy silence of the fortress pressing down on them as the Peacekeepers signaled their clearance, granting them passage into the inner sanctum.

Asashin guided his horse further within, while a wide-eyed Eva sat atop, regarding the palace in wonder and awe. Asashin smirked at her reaction but didn’t say anything. He and his group led their horses further inside the gates, past the extensive gardens and central fountain. All the while passing elite Centurions, Legionaries and Cavaliers on their way to the main courtyard.

When they arrived at the large rectangle courtyard, Eva regarded the large H-shaped building with flat roofs, tall pillars and open terraces that overlooked the courtyard lined in lush gardens, crawling vines and tall trees. She regarded the four wide stocky square towers within. Taking in the taller inner towers than the outer towers that didn’t overshadow the building itself.

The horse’s hooves clicked against the marble courtyard branded with the shield of the Fire Reserve and black marble patterned in intricate designs of fire throughout.

Asashin paused and Eva knew why.

The King and Queen of the Fire Reserve waited for her with their champions atop the wide stairs. Quickly, the King and Queen strode to her, as she dismounted the horse with Asashin’s help.

As they drew near, Eva offered a formal bow—hand pressed over her heart, fist enclosed—a gesture mirrored in silent unison by Asashin, Danteus, and Altair.

“Princess Evangelina,” the Queen greeted, her poise breaking as she rushed toward them. “My dear, you look utterly spent.” Concern etched the Queen’s features as she reached out, her hands steadying the girl, who she seemed on the verge of collapsing under the weight of her journey.

“I am . . . a little. I’ve been travelling for weeks to get here,” she replied. “I honestly didn’t think I’d make it.”

A grimness washed over the King’s expression. “Is it true? The Coup, I mean? We’ve tried to gather additional intel on the matter but so far no one’s been able to make it back.”

“It is.” Evangelina declared. “I’ve come seeking sanctuary and your assistance.” Danteus, Asashin and Altair shared a concerned look. While a controlled fear hardened the Queen’s expression mirroring her unreadable blue eyes that tapered on Evangelina.

“Do you know who’s responsible?” the King asked, his golden eyes assessed her carefully beneath his deep lengthy crimson hair that framed his face. “Another Reserve, perhaps?”

“No. It’s the Xzandians. They’re after the Fragments.”

Shock and horror engulfed the King and Queen.

“Come inside,” King Zagreus declared, urging Princess Evangelina and Queen Aeliana into the castle. He turned to Grand Elder Michalis before departing, “We need to help them. Is it possible?”

“Of course, it is your majesty. It’s what our forces are for. Leave it to me.” Grand Elder Michalis placed a hand over his heart but didn’t bow. King Zagreus relaxed at his words and nodded recognising the message behind his words before the King retreated into the palace. Grand Elder Michalis glanced at Asashin, Danteus and Altair, “you’ve done well. You’re free to leave.” With that, he turned his heel and vanished into the palace with others following him.

Asashin, Danteus and Altair shared a look of uncertainty before leaving the palace grounds as they had come.

* * *

Gothalia led the way through the labyrinthine throat of the cave, her eyes tracing the jagged contours of the path until she veered sharply into a side tunnel that plunged into absolute black. Maximus and Anton followed in her wake, but Leviathan—caught in the momentum of the chase—began to tear down the opposite corridor.

In a blur of motion, Gothalia reached out, snagging his arm and wrenching him back into the shadows beside her. They sank into a silent, unified kneel, pressed against the cold stone. Gothalia held her breath, her senses tuned to the approaching dark as the distant thunder of footfalls grew louder and the first flickering orange glow of torches began to bleed around the corner.

As the light sprouted and steps began to slow, Gothalia immediately glanced at Maximus and Anton alarmed. Silently, they moved from the beginning of the tunnel and further within and hid behind a boulder, Leviathan followed.

The light of the torches grew, and everyone held their breath. No one dared to move, let alone look at the origin of that light. The glow of the fire from the torches lit up the corridor they were down and Gothalia heard footfalls approach. Before Maximus could make a sound of fright, she pressed her hand against his mouth silencing him. Her eyes never leaving the glow of the torch on approach.

Anton gripped his sword and angled it carefully to strike their attacker while Leviathan carefully threaded an arrow silently into his bow and pointed it above the boulder where he’d see the outline of their head before they spotted them. Even as he thought about it, he knew, even if he pulled the arrow. They’d find them and they would have difficulty getting away with their numbers.

Sweat lined everyone’s features as the enemy advanced until the glow of the fire receded and continued along the original corridor. Once the enemy was gone everyone sighed in relief, “I thought we were dead,” Maximus muttered, pulling Gothalia’s hand from his mouth.

“I know right,” Gothalia replied in a barely audible whisper.

“We better get moving,” Leviathan declared, whipsering back, and folded his bow before placing it on his opposite forearm where the arrows sat.

“Okay, which way?” Gothalia asked and climbed to her feet.

“We’re better off back tracking and heading out the way we came.” Leviathan said.

Anton climbed to his feet. “Do you even know which way we ran because I don’t?”

“I don’t need to remember I just follow the flow.”

Anton, Gothalia and Maximus shared a look when Leviathan walked from them and into the corridor they exited. “Wait. They’ll most likely come back. We’re obviously not further inside; and they’ll realise that. Wouldn’t it be smarter for them to backtrack to the entrance we ran into and do a thorough search from there?” Gothalia queried.

“Yes, they will.” Leviathan replied. “That’s why we need to move now. If we’re quiet and fast, we should be fine.” Gothalia raised a brow at the comment then followed Leviathan into the main corridor while Anton and Maximus followed closely behind them. Everyone ran down the caves as quietly as possible before making their way back to where they entered the cave.

Leviathan, Gothalia, and Anton crouched in the shadows of the cave mouth, their breaths held tight. In a sudden blur of motion, Maximus surged forward, a predator closing the gap toward the enemy—a man draped in the grisly disguise of mud and tangled vines. Before the warrior could even register a shift in the air, Maximus vanished, reappearing behind him like a vengeful spirit. He slammed the man into the earth with bone-shaking force; the impact left the guard reeling, and a single, swift blow finished the task, plunging him into unconsciousness. With a sharp, urgent nod, Maximus signaled the others forward, and they slipped from the cave’s throat to follow him into the wild. “Now which way?” he asked Leviathan as they ran through the jungle.

Leviathan nodded towards the mountains. “That way.” They pressed deeper into the jungle’s emerald choke, carving a path until the memory of their pursuers began to fade into the distance. Agony became a constant companion; muscles screamed in places they hadn’t known could hold pain, a dull, throbbing reminder of their physical limits. Yet, the cost of surrender was absolute—to stop was to be severed from the simulation, and to falter was to fail.

Trailing at the rear, Gothalia let the grim thought take root: Would it truly matter if I were removed? The question felt heavy and cold. She slowed her pace for a fleeting second, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the rhythmic movement of Leviathan’s back ahead of her. After a long, bracing breath, she pushed the doubt aside and followed him back into the shadows.

As Leviathan led them up a rising slope, the damp carpet of leaves crunched underfoot with a heavy, wet rhythm. Insects droned incessantly against their ears, a stinging chorus that gnawed at their fraying patience. Every step was a battle against the leaden weight of their limbs, making the hike a grueling test of endurance. Gothalia merely watched the ground, grateful that the incline remained shallow enough to be conquered. “How much longer?” Maximus asked.

“A couple of hours,” Leviathan replied. “Why?”

“No reason,” he said, and neither Gothalia nor Anton said a word. Leviathan, Anton, and Maximus were wary she could tell, their heart rate was erratic in her ears. No doubt her was just as loud to both Anton and Maximus’s.

Leviathan paused and Gothalia asked, “What is it?”

“Keep quiet.” He urged. Anton and Maximus unsheathed their swords and so did Gothalia. The air stilled saturating it in an uncomfortable silence before it oddly chilled. “We’re not alone.”

It was the stillness that honed Gothalia’s anxiety to a jagged edge. Her gaze darted across the undergrowth, searching for a fracture in the quiet, until instinct drove her toward the center where Anton and Maximus stood back-to-back.

A throwing knife hissed through the humid air, a silver streak aimed for her throat. She brought her blade up in a blur of steel; a sharp, resonant clang shattered the jungle’s silence. Gothalia couldn’t pin the source of the strike, and for a heartbeat, no one moved—not out of fear, but out of a cold, sudden realization. The throw hadn’t been meant to kill, but to scatter them. “They could be anywhere.” Then Gothalia spotted a figure at the corner of her eye and dodged the attack.

In a sudden, violent blur, Gothalia caught the spear’s shaft, her boot connecting with her attacker’s skull in a sickening crack. She wrenched the weapon from his failing grip, spinning the length of it to catch a second man across the temple with the blunt end. Before the first could even slump to the earth, she reversed her momentum, driving the spear’s tip through his chest with a final, decisive thrust.

A third blade hissed through the air above her; she ducked low, feeling the rush of wind as she spun on her heel, sweeping her leg to catch the attacker’s ankle. As the man crashed to the forest floor, Anton materialized above him. His sword plunged deep into the man’s heart—and then, as quickly as he had arrived, Anton faded into the humid air, leaving no trace that he had ever been there at all.

Leviathan fired his arrows at the enemy in the distance before they could shoot Anton and Maximus. “Gothalia.” Leviathan declared and slipped around a tree immediately pierced by arrows before appearing around the other side of the tree and shooting the remaining crossbowmen. Gothalia glanced at Leviathan and at where he fired his arrows. “Take them out.” She ran towards the abandoned spears on the ground and rolled over her shoulder, picking up one spear she threw it at one man than another before Leviathan shot the final one.

An enemy leaped out of the foliage from behind Gothalia and pinned her on the ground, stomach first. “Surrender,” he declared pressing a knife against her throat regarding Leviathan and Anton. Maximus re-appeared behind the man and stabbed him in the neck with a dagger, before vanishing as the others had.

“Never,” Maximus declared.

Gothalia climbed to her feet. “We need to move. More will be on the way. Where are we going exactly?” she asked Leviathan.

“As I said before towards the mountains. Normally, these tournaments last until only one remains or if we’ve captured the enemy flag.”

“Seriously?” Maximus asked without thought.

“It doesn’t seem that strange,” Anton replied.

Leviathan ignored their comments and strode past Gothalia, and towards the mountains before they knew it, they arrived at the base of an abandoned town that climbed into the mountain. Gothalia, Anton and Maximus regarded the sight of the worn-down buildings and overgrown vegetation while Leviathan scrutinised the old arrows on the ground, and Maximus commented, “Looks like no one’s been here for a while. Is this even real?”

“Of course not, Max.” Anton replied.

“Okay, if it’s not real then why is it here. What purpose does it serve?”

Gothalia’s gaze drifted to the weathered well standing like a tombstone in the center of the town. She paced toward it, leaning over the crumbling lip to peer into the void below. “I don’t even think there’s water,” she murmured, her fingertips tracing the parched, gritty texture of the stone.

As she studied the worn base of the structure beneath her boots, she remained oblivious to the silver-clawed hand creeping upward from the dark, its sharp talons inches from her. Behind her, Leviathan and the others had already begun to drift away, never seeing the talons, their attention fractured as they scanned the surrounding buildings with a mounting, jagged suspicion.

Gothalia climbed to her feet and walked from the well and towards Leviathan. Blissfully, unaware of the long slender chalky arm returning within the well. “This place is creepy,” she acknowledged, absently wrapping her arms around herself.

“You’re not wrong,” Leviathan remarked.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Anton murmured, his eyes shifting toward his brother, who stood transfixed by a silhouette haunting the edge of a nearby building. A sudden movement broke the tension—a stranger darting into the gloom. Anton’s blade cleared its sheath with a sharp hiss as he surged forward in pursuit, Leviathan, Gothalia, and Maximus followed. They rounded the corner in a desperate blur, only to find the alleyway hollow and still. The figure had vanished into the thin, cold air.

“Where did he go? You guys saw him too, right?” Maximus asked, confused.

“We did.” Anton said.

“Maybe there’s a glitch in the system.” Leviathan muttered, deep in thought.

“A glitch?” Anton queried, sheathing his blade.

“Yeah.” Leviathan added, “Every location within every simulation especially done by the military always has a purpose or a reason for being there. As far as I can see, there’s no reason for this abandoned town to be here or that person we just chased to vanish. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe it’s not supposed to make sense,” Gothalia responded.

“Maybe,” Leviathan replied, his voice a low vibration in the stagnant air. “Regardless, we need that flag. If we can track down whoever just fled, they might lead us to it.” He turned, picking a path through the skeletal remains of the street where the buildings leaned like rotting teeth against the sky. Anton fell into step beside him, their boots crunching on grit and broken timber. Gothalia and Maximus shared a lingering, uncertain look—a silent conversation born of unease—before they, too, were swallowed by the labyrinth of wood and stone.

Another half-hour bled away in a fruitless hunt for the phantom woman, the town yielding nothing but the shift of dust and the hollow mimicry of their own echoes. The silence eventually broke their resolve, acting as a heavy, invisible weight that pushed them back toward the center of the square. Defeated and weary, the group drifted back together, gathering once more around the parched and silent mouth of the well.

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask. Where’s your team?” Maximus asked. “I mean we have ours, what happened to yours?”

“They went to go find you guys.” Leviathan replied, scanning the buildings.

“You told them to do that.”

“I know.”

“Why?” Maximus carefully observed Leviathan.

Leviathan shrugged. “As I said before I hate taking hostages.” Then Maximus leaned on the well facing them.

“Fair enough.” Maximus replied, contemplating his words. “So, what now? How do we find this flag?”

Gothalia regarded the buildings behind the well and Maximus and considered them for a moment. “Have we checked those buildings?”

“Not sure,” Anton replied. “We haven’t exactly been keeping track.”

“Okay, so we go and search then.” Maximus responded. “I mean it beats sitting around here and doing nothing.”

“True.” Anton remarked.

Before Maximus could pull away from the well’s edge, gleaming silver arms coiled around him like metallic serpents, pinning him in a cold, crushing embrace. “Max!” Gothalia’s cry shattered the air. Terror seized Maximus as he found himself staring into the same monstrous eyes that had haunted them earlier.

The group lunged forward, a desperate blur of motion to tear him free, but they were heartbeats too slow. With a violent jerk, the creature vanished back into the throat of the well, dragging Maximus down with it. Gothalia and Anton’s shrieks echoed into the hollow dark, met only by a terrifying silence. Without a second’s hesitation, Gothalia vaulted over the stone lip and plunged into the blackness after them.