Leoleth groped along the dusty sandstone walls, lit by a torch leaning against a nearby rock. It was not that he could not see, or that he was restricted in space, but rather he was searching for something specific. An inscription in the rock.
That's what the parchment he had found had detailed. In his search for the knowledge he sought, he had come across the parchment in a library that had been burned to the ground, purged for knowledge a once mighty kingdom, now diminishing, had deemed dangerous. For just cause, perceived heresy or simple oppression, it didn't matter. The soldiers set to the task those many years ago, however, were lacklustre in their job, and did not completely raze the library, much to his fortune. It seemed, at first, a forlorn hope, but he found the parchment hidden away, and it was the missing piece in the puzzle he so desperately needed.
Now he just needed the next clue...
His fingers brushed against an abnormality. He widened his eyes, and doubled back to grab his torch, bringing it up to the rock face. He scraped away some of the dust and dirt, revealing a small symbol and inscription delicately carved into the rock.
He reached into his satchel, hanging by his hip, and fished out the parchment from the library, and compared the drawing and writings on it to what he saw on the wall; a serpent's fang with the words, '
Knowledge and Poison achieve the same ends'
, written in a language few could translate. He was not one of those until he began this search.
The carving in the rock was the same.
He felt his heart beat faster. This was it, this was indeed the place he'd been searching for months since he found the library.
It was the last clue he needed, but his goal was still beyond his reach. It was a marker, pointing the way... but through where?
He searched around for an opening, coughing as his excited movements kicked up the dust. At first, nothing.
"Where is it, what am I looking for..." he muttered, scratching his scalp. Then, he had an idea, and returned to the inscription. He examined it more closely, tracing his finger across it. He read the inscription again, and then recalled something he had read long ago in his quest to find answers, something about a poisonous extract from a toxic plant.
He fished into his pouch again, and produced a vial of liquid, a green tinge to it. He had a hunch.
He unstoppered the top, the sickly sweet aroma belying the lethal effects of the contents. Carefully, he trickled the liquid onto the carvings. If he quieted his breathing, he could hear the substance crackling and popping upon the sandstone. The carvings became clearer as the poison discoloured the rock. And then he heard a click, followed shortly by a low rumble. Five feet to his right, he saw a rock face shudder as it pivoted open, revealing a narrow passageway. It would be a tight squeeze, but he could fit through it.
His heart was racing now, and he felt nearer now than he ever had to his goal.
He grabbed his torch and squeezed through the gap, sidling along as his pouches and satchels made it difficult. Worse, the passage meandered, not unlike a serpent, which if the legends were true, made all of it terribly apt.
As he inched his way through, grunting and at times sucking in his gut, he saw dull light bouncing off the rock surfaces. A breeze rushed by him, cooled by the air from the cave behind him, but warmed from what was no doubt sunlight ahead of him. He kept going, picking up the pace despite the difficulty. Scraping and squeezing by, he was encouraged by the brightening light, the warming of the air, until he emerged into a spacious depression in the rocky formations that the caves had formed in, and felt the breath leave his body from the sight.
It was a sinkhole open to the daylight, and it must have been close to noon, as despite the high walls surrounding the space, rising up at least fifty feet or more, sunlight streamed down into the depression and warmed it with its glow. The walls themselves were marked with colourful striations, reds and yellows and rocky golds and more, vibrant but earthen tones. And if he glanced at the rock surfaces at the right angles, if the light caught just right, the sandstone seemed to glitter like it was imbued with hundreds of miniscule gemstones, no larger than grains of sand, but he could see no discernable specks any surer than he could discern the shape of the stars at night.
The bottom of the sinkhole was smooth sandstone, evidence of flowing water -- now long gone -- having eroded the rock into smooth, rolling formations that were largely flat, forming into shallow steps that all seemed to rise towards the back of the sinkhole, a mound of stone pushing upwards until it narrowed into a stunted spire, topping a flat depression in the mound.
And coiled up in this depression, like it was a naturally formed throne, was an enormous serpent, almost as thick around as his torso, and many, many times longer, an undulating puddle of glinting scales.
He couldn't speak, or he did not dare to.
It was regarding him coolly, yellow eyes, seemingly luminous even in the daylight, framing narrow slits that seemed to peel away his clothes, his skin, his flesh, and examine his soul, in a way that felt both piercing yet reserved.
Dark scales, midnight in colour with the barest of purple hints glittered in the light, and all along its length were small strips of iridescent violet, whilst along the curves of its coils, he spied the pearlescent sheen of the scales reflecting a predominantly purple shine, the other colours of the spectrum more muted, giving the serpent an overall purple hue.
Leoleth returned his attention to the serpent's head, noting the scaly brows above its eyes, and just above and behind its eyes were raised ridges with bright purple hues around their bases, and golden-yellow tones along the tops, giving the snake's head an almost crown-like visage.
All in all, the serpent seemed... divine. And if his research was correct, there was much merit to that.
Eventually he overcame his awe -- and fear -- and managed to muster a few words.
"You are Vetiscia... Goddess of Knowledge, both forbidden and unknown," he said, more to convince himself that he indeed wasn't seeing things.
The serpent craned its neck slightly, regarding him.
"Mortals normally regard me with more courtesy than that," she said. A feminine voice, husky with a tinge of seething typical of a snake, but cool, reserved, and terribly sensual. But above that, commanding, like it filled the space without the need to be booming. Like a whisper he could hear across a room.
He felt his heart race and he started to shift on the spot as mild panic overtook him.
"I, uh, forgive me," he stammered, before taking a knee and bowing before her. "My lady Vetiscia, it is truly humbling to be in your presence."
He hoped he had not offended. It would be terrible to have come all this way to insult his objective and to be smitten from the Earth for it.
He dared not make eye contact, until a soft, amused laugh echoed through the sinkhole, like a fluttering wind. He couldn't help but look up.
Her expression had softened, her head far more expressive than any normal snake, though the devious amusement that had replaced the steely regard was still a little disconcerting.
"You may rise, mortal. But you still forget your manners, for you have not given me a name," she said.
He winced; he was not making a good impression for the goddess.
"I-I am Leoleth of Swan Vale," he revealed, holding himself as politely as possible.
