Eldritch Guidance-Chapter 117 – I’m Not A Cultist

Alan: “Sandra! Where is Jafar?” Alan demanded, urgency sharpening his voice like a blade. His eyes darted around the clearing, searching for any sign of his missing companion. The air felt heavier now, charged with an unspoken threat.

Sandra regarded him with a look of confusion, her head tilting slightly as if his question were absurd. Her brow furrowed, and for a moment, it seemed as though she was grappling with something just out of reach—a memory, perhaps, or a thought she couldn’t quite grasp. Then, as if a light bulb had flickered on in her mind, her expression shifted. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips.

Sandra: “Oh, don’t worry,” she said, her tone unnervingly casual. “I didn’t have time to do too much of anything. I was too distracted by the Rattle.”

Alan: “The Rattle?” his voice dropped, his suspicion flaring. He took a cautious step forward. “Wait, are you a—”

Sandra: “I’M NOT A CULTIST!!” she screamed, cutting him off with a ferocity that made Alan flinch. Her voice echoed through the clearing, raw and desperate, as if the accusation had struck a nerve buried deep within her. The intensity of her outburst startled him, and he took a step back, momentarily stunned by the sheer fervor in her eyes.

But the moment didn’t last. Sandra’s expression hardened, her gaze locking onto his with an unsettling intensity. In one fluid motion, she raised her hand, and the bones of the skeletal cows Alan had dispatched earlier began to stir. The remains lifted from the ground as if pulled by invisible strings, gathering in the air like leaves caught in a whirlwind. The bones floated in front of her, suspended in a grotesque cluster that shimmered with an eerie blue aetheric energy.

Alan watched in a mix of awe and trepidation as the skeletal remains swirled around Sandra, forming a macabre halo that pulsed with power. The air crackled with energy, and a chill ran down his spine, the kind that warned of danger far beyond his understanding. Suddenly, one of the floating cow skulls cracked, splintering into countless sharp, jagged shards that hovered menacingly in the air.

Before Alan could react, Sandra flicked her wrist, and the shards shot toward him with terrifying speed, slicing through the air like bullets. He instinctively dove behind a nearby tree, the shards whizzing past him and embedding themselves into the bark with a series of loud thuds. The impact reverberated through the trunk, sending splinters flying in all directions.

Alan pressed his back against the rough surface of the tree, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the ward humming faintly around him. He knew the ward could likely withstand such an attack, but he also understood the importance of conserving energy. Every attack would wear the ward down. If he could avoid using the barrier now, it would hold against bigger attacks later.

Peering cautiously around the tree, he caught sight of Sandra. Her expression was a mix of concentration and something darker—something that sent a fresh wave of unease through him. Her eyes glinted with an unnatural light, and her lips moved silently, as if she were reciting an incantation under her breath.

Alan: “Why are you doing this!?” Alan called out, his voice trembling slightly despite his efforts to keep it steady. Adrenaline surged through his veins, sharpening his senses but doing little to calm the storm of emotions raging within him.

Sandra’s lips curled into a faint smirk, her eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of mischief and something far darker—something unhinged.

Sandra: “For the same reason you’re here,” she replied, her tone almost teasing, as if she were enjoying his confusion.

Alan: “What are you talking about?!” Alan shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his frustration. “I’m here to save Jafar!”

For a moment, Sandra’s smirk faltered, replaced by a more serious expression. Her gaze bore into him, sharp and calculating.

Sandra: “You think it’s just about Jafar?” she said, her voice low and deliberate. “This place, the Rattle, you—it’s all connected. There are forces at play here that go far beyond your friend’s little predicament.”

Alan’s chest tightened, his mind racing to make sense of her words. Confusion and anger swirled within him, a toxic cocktail that left him feeling unmoored.

Alan: “I don’t care about your cryptic nonsense!” he snapped, his voice rising. “Just release Jafar! Whatever game you’re playing, leave him out of it!”

Sandra’s eyes narrowed, her expression hardening.

Sandra: “Of course you care,” she said, her voice steady but laced with an unsettling intensity. “The Rattle told me you’d come for him. It also told me it would come down to you or me. So, do us both a favor and be the last person I have to kill. Just die!”

With that, she thrust her hand forward, and another barrage of bone spikes hurtled toward him. Alan pressed himself tightly against the tree, his breath catching as the jagged shards struck the trunk with a series of deafening thuds. The impact sent splinters flying, and he could feel the vibrations reverberating through the bark. The tree groaned under the assault, cracks spiderwebbing across its surface. It wouldn’t hold much longer.

Alan’s mind raced, desperation clawing at the edges of his thoughts. He couldn’t believe that Sandra—someone he had once trusted—was now trying to kill him. The betrayal cut deeper than he cared to admit, but he couldn’t afford to dwell on it. Not now.

As another volley of bone spikes struck the tree, Alan felt a surge of adrenaline. He had to act, and fast. His eyes darted around the clearing, searching for an escape route or a way to turn the tide. The forest seemed to close in around him, every shadow a potential threat, but he couldn’t let fear paralyze him.

With a deep breath, he summoned his magic, channeling the wind aether into the knife clutched tightly in his hand. The blade began to glow faintly at first, the light growing brighter as the energy built. The air around him hummed with power, and he could feel it coursing through him, sharpening his focus and steadying his resolve.

Just as Sandra raised her hand to launch another wave of bone shards, Alan burst from behind the tree, his knife raised high. He slashed the air in front of him, sending a bolt of wind-infused aether hurtling toward her. The energy crackled as it sliced through the forest, a streak of whitish-green light that cut through the tension like a blade.

Sandra’s eyes widened in surprise, but she reacted quickly. With a fluid motion, she commanded the floating bones surrounding her, weaving them together into a dense, protective wall. The bolt of aether struck the barrier with a resounding crack, the force of the impact sending shards of bone flying in all directions. The wall mostly held with Sandra only losing a few bones.

Seizing the moment, Alan darted behind another tree, this one closer to Sandra’s position. He pressed his back against the rough bark, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The air was thick with tension, the silence between attacks almost more unnerving than the attacks themselves.

Sandra, undeterred, dismantled the wall of bones with a flick of her wrist, the remnants returned to floating around her. She turned her gaze toward the tree where Alan was hiding, her expression darkening into a scowl.

Sandra: “You think you can hide from me?” she called out, her voice dripping with venom. “You’re only prolonging the inevitable!”

Alan clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on the knife. He knew she was right—he couldn’t keep running, couldn’t keep hiding. But he also knew he couldn’t give up. Not while Jafar’s life hung in the balance.

Alan: “Sandra, this isn’t you!” he shouted, desperation clawing at his voice. “You don’t have to do this! I don’t know what the Rattle Bone cult has to do with all this, but—”

Sandra: “I’M NOT A CULTIST!!!!!!” she screamed, her voice tearing through the forest like a thunderclap. It was a sound filled with rage, yes, but also something else—something wild and almost euphoric, as if the act of denying it brought her a perverse kind of joy.

Before Alan could answer, Sandra clapped her hands together. The floating bones around her began to shift and rearrange, grinding against each other with a sound that made Alan's teeth cringe. He watched in horror as the fragments of skeletal remains - ribs, femurs, vertebrae - snapped together like pieces of a macabre puzzle. The air crackled with aetheric energy as the bones fused, the sound of grinding and scraping filling the space between them.

When the assembly was complete, Sandra had created a towering humanoid figure made entirely of cow bones, standing an imposing ten feet tall. Its head was a grotesque cow skull, its hollow eye sockets glowing with an eerie blue light that pulsed like a heartbeat. The amalgamation of bones creaked and shifted, its presence casting a long, jagged shadow over Alan as it loomed before him.

It was like a golem - a monstrous construct of bone and malice.

Alan felt a wave of fear wash over him as he faced the creature. The huge undead figure stood on two legs, its skeletal limbs moving with a disturbing grace that defied its size. The ground trembled under its weight as it shifted, ready to strike. The air around it seemed to hum with a low, menacing frequency, as if the forest itself recoiled from its presence.

The bone golem let out a low, guttural groan, its glowing eyes fixed on Alan with an unnatural intensity. With a sudden, fluid motion, it reached for a nearby tree, its skeletal fingers wrapping around the trunk with frightening ease. The sound of splintering wood echoed through the forest as the creature uprooted the tree, lifting it as if it were nothing more than a twig.

Time seemed to slow as the golem hurled the massive tree at Alan with terrifying force. His instincts kicked in, and with them came a memory - Mitra's voice, calm and firm: "If you're not sure about an attack coming your way, always try to avoid it. Don't take the chance."

Alan dove to the side, the world blurring around him as the tree hurtled past. It crashed through the other tree he was hiding behind and into the ground where he had been standing just moments before, the impact thunderous. The force of the collision sent a shockwave rippling through the earth, and Alan felt the ground shudder beneath him.

He scrambled to his feet, heart pounding as he glanced back at the destruction. The tree he had sheltered behind was now a shattered wreck, its trunk splintered and its branches reduced to kindling. If he hadn’t dodged in time, he wasn’t sure his ward would have held against such a force. The thought of being crushed beneath the weight of the tree sent a chill down his spine, and he silently thanked Mitra for her advice.

Alan: “Think, Alan, think!” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the ringing in his ears. He scanned the area, his mind racing for a plan. He couldn’t keep dodging forever—the bone golem was relentless, and Sandra’s control over it seemed absolute. He needed to find a way to counter its brute strength, to reach Sandra before it was too late.

He had to be smart, to use his magic and his wits to outmaneuver this monstrous creation. With renewed determination, he focused on the wind aether swirling around him, channeling it into the knife clutched tightly in his hand. The blade began to glow faintly, the light growing brighter as the energy built. He could feel the power coursing through him, sharpening his reflexes and steadying his resolve.

The bone golem charged at him, its skeletal frame moving with an unsettling speed that belied its size. As it swung its massive arm in a wide arc, Alan ducked low, the wind aether enhancing his agility. He pivoted to the side, narrowly avoiding the bone-laden limb, while keeping just within arms reach. The creature’s movements were fast—too fast for something so large—but Alan’s magic gave him the edge he needed to stay one step ahead.

The golem, undeterred by his evasive maneuvers, swung both hands downward in a powerful arc, aiming to crush him beneath its weight. Alan reacted instinctively, leaping to the side just as the creature’s fists slammed into the ground. The impact was immense, sending a shockwave rippling through the earth. Alan felt the ground tremble beneath him, the force of the blow pushing him back several feet and forcing him to stumble.

He quickly regained his footing, his heart racing as he assessed the situation. The golem was undead, tireless, and seemingly unstoppable. If this turned into a contest of endurance, Alan knew he would lose. He couldn’t keep dodging forever—he needed to strike back, to find a weakness in the creature’s defenses.

As the bone golem reared back for another attack, Alan tightened his grip on the knife, the wind aether swirling around him like a protective cocoon. He had one shot at this. One chance to turn the tide.

He just hoped it would be enough.

Alan sprinted toward the towering bone golem, his heart pounding in sync with the thunderous footsteps of the creature. The golem’s massive arms swung in wide, crushing arcs, each strike sending tremors through the ground. Alan ducked and weaved, his movements a blur as he narrowly avoided the bone-laden limbs that threatened to reduce him to pulp.

With a swift, calculated motion, he slashed at one of the creature’s arms as it swept past him. The blade of his knife bit into the bone, carving a shallow gash a few inches deep. But to his dismay, the golem didn’t so much as flinch. The wound seemed insignificant to the monstrous construct, which continued its relentless assault, its glowing blue eyes fixed on him with an sinister gleam.

As the golem raised its arms high for another overhead strike, Alan saw his chance. Timing his move perfectly, he dove forward, sliding beneath the creature’s legs and rolling to the other side. Without missing a beat, he sprang to his feet and leapt onto the golem’s back, his fingers gripping tightly to the jagged, protruding bones that lined its spine.

The creature roared in frustration, its massive arms slamming into the ground with a force that sent a shockwave rippling through the forest. Trees swayed, and the ground cracked beneath the impact, but Alan held on, his muscles straining as he fought to keep his balance. The golem thrashed violently, trying to dislodge him, but Alan clung on with determination. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Steadying himself, Alan raised his knife and began stabbing into the creature’s back with relentless fury. Each thrust was accompanied by a pulse of wind-infused aether, the energy surging through the blade and into the golem’s skeletal frame. The results were immediate and devastating—chunks of bone exploded with each strike, shards flying in all directions as the creature’s form began to fracture. The air was filled with the cacophony of cracking and splintering bones, a symphony of destruction that echoed through the forest.

The golem let out a guttural roar, its movements growing more erratic as it tried to shake Alan off. But he pressed on, his resolve unyielding. With one final, powerful thrust, he plunged his knife deep into the core of the creature, feeling the hilt vibrate as the blade connected with something solid—a nexus of aetheric energy that held the golem together.

Gritting his teeth, Alan channeled his aether into a large attack. The wind aether surged through him, flowing into the blade and erupting in a blinding explosion of light and force. The shockwave tore through the golem’s body, shattering its bones into countless fragments that scattered like shrapnel. The forest was bathed in a brilliant white light as the energy dissipated, the air crackling with residual power.

When the light faded and the dust settled, Alan found himself on the ground, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His body ached, and his arms felt like lead, but he forced himself to sit up, his eyes scanning the area. The once-menacing bone golem was now nothing more than a pile of shattered bones, its glowing blue eyes extinguished. The threat had been neutralized, but Alan knew better than to let his guard down.

Alan glanced over at Sandra, who was observing the unfolding chaos with a distant expression, as if her thoughts were adrift in another realm. He sensed an opportunity; her apparent distraction gave him a fleeting sense of control. From what he had gathered, much of Sandra's magic seemed to be rooted in necromancy, and he had noticed that once the bones were shattered into smaller fragments, her ability to manipulate them diminished significantly. With only a handful of intact bones remaining, her options appeared limited.

Alan's confidence grew as he considered the implications. Without access to her precious bones, Sandra would likely be forced to resort to a different form of magic. If necromancy was indeed her sole means of combat, he could easily disarm her and gain the upper hand. However, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of his mind.

Unfortunately, Alan had never taken the time to properly delve into Betty Vo’s renowned works on necromancers in his defense against the dark arts class. Had he done so, he would have been armed with invaluable insights. One of the key tenets of Betty Vo’s work emphasized a crucial principle: when facing a necromancer, always assume they have more bones.

Sandra reached into her cloak and retrieved a small leather pouch, its surface worn and weathered from years of use. This was no ordinary pouch; it was a bone bag, a sinister vessel for carrying large amounts of bones. The pouch was secured with a delicate string, intricately woven to keep its precious contents safe from prying eyes. As she deftly untied the string, a palpable tension filled the air, thick with anticipation and dark magic.

In an instant, a flurry of bones erupted from the pouch, swirling around her like a tempest unleashed. They danced through the air, each piece finding its place with uncanny precision, as if guided by an unseen force. The forest around her seemed to hold its breath, the rustling leaves and distant animal calls fading into silence as the spectacle unfolded.

Within moments, the bones began to assemble themselves, forming a bizarre and horrifying sight: two dozen skeletal cows, their frames constructed from the very remnants that had once belonged to living creatures. Each skeletal figure stood tall and imposing, their hollow eye sockets glowing with that same eerie blue light that pulsed like a heartbeat, casting an otherworldly glow across the forest floor.

The skeletal cows moved with an unsettling intent, their bony limbs creaking softly as they shifted into formation. They stood ready, a formidable army of the undead. Sandra surveyed her creations with a sense of satisfaction, a wicked smile curling at the corners of her lips.

With a wave of her hand, she commanded the skeletal herd to charge, their bones rattling in unison as they obeyed.

Alan's stomach plummeted as he beheld the sight before him. Just moments ago, he had been struggling to contend with the bones of three cows that Sandra was deftly manipulating, but now, an overwhelming army of at least two dozen skeletal cows were charging at him, their glowing blue eyes fixed on him with an unsettling intensity.

Panic surged through him, and he felt the weight of dread settle heavily in his chest. The odds had shifted dramatically, and the confidence he had felt moments before evaporated in an instant. There was no time to strategize or reconsider his approach; the situation had escalated beyond his control.

With a surge of adrenaline, Alan made a split-second decision. He turned on his heel and sprinted away, his heart pounding in his ears. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the stillness, a frantic rhythm that matched the urgency of his escape. He could feel the presence of the skeletal cows behind him, their hollow forms moving with an eerie grace, and he knew that every second counted.

As he ran, Alan's mind raced, searching for a way out of this dire predicament.