The Mother of Monsters

The tears stopped after a while. Ianna's gasps for breath stilled, and her body relaxed. She laid still for a long time. She wasn’t sure if she spent hours or days in the stillness of the tomb. Hunger was the only feeling she had- her emotions spent on the trauma of death and sudden rebirth. She had felt everything- even as quick as it had been. The searing cold that bit through her flesh and bone. The way her skin rotted away, sloughing off beneath the flash of pale light.

She shuddered while chewing on a piece of one of the ration bars, and took a sip of water. She’d broken the small chunk off to conserve as much as she could. She wasn’t sure how long it would be before she could get out, or even sit up. Wasting a full bar on a single day was foolish. She already lost water from crying so hard.

That thought brought a question to her mind. She had been here all this time and as of yet, the so-called Tomb Guardian had yet to show itself. She hadn’t exactly been quiet as she cried, so there was no doubt she would have been heard. Then where was it? Her thoughts turned to the outside- past the safe walls of the sarcophagus. Her mind recoiled, terror gripping her as the thought of dying began to push down on her heart. She imagined another death just as horrible as the last; another moment of blinding pain.

“You’re going to die a worse death if you don’t move,” She chided herself. Her eyes hardened on the reflection that stared back at her through the polished interior of the sarcophagus. “Hell, I don’t even know if starving to death would be the end,” She admitted grimly, looking at her hands.

She knew she had died. She felt it. But here she was, alive, breathing. It was incredible, to say the least, but it raised so many questions. If magic was truly, really, absolutely real, then how did it work? What was it doing to her when she died? Was this, whatever it was, unique? Or were there other people like her out there somewhere?

Even as the questions reverberated through her mind; she pulled herself slowly to a sitting position, her eyes searching the floor for any sign of her attacker.

She didn’t have to look long.

At the very center of the room, about twenty yards away, a solitary figure stood. Its body appeared to be made of some kind of metal, tarnished and worn from an untold amount of time spent in this tomb. It sat in silence, staring at the ground, as she tried to make out its’ appearance. Its’ legs were all but gone. Its’ knees and ankles were completely rusted over with coppery residue. Its right arm hung limp, and its' left barely held it up as it sat.

“That’s what killed me? It’s a piece of junk!” She ground out, “What happened? How’d it even get me?”

Again, her question was answered with a prompt.

“Well, that’s unfair. Heroic?” She argued, waving her hands in futility. Where the hell had it even come from? she knew she hadn’t seen it when she first woke.

She crossed her arms, staring down the time-worn machine. It hadn’t moved an inch even after she sat up. What was it waiting for? She was visible now and this thing hadn’t shown any hesitation to take her out last time. Was it a trick? A lure? The thing looked so old she could hardly imagine it had much use left in it. She wondered if the most recent shot it had fired off had been the last it ever would.

She threw her leg over the side of the sarcophagus, landing on the floor. She hesitantly let go of the stone box and turned around- just in time to see the machine’s head tilt up as if to look at her. It had no face, like a mannequin. Not that she had much time to think about the resemblance, as a gemstone embedded in its’ chest began to glow with an otherworldly pale white light.

“Shit!”

She turned to climb back into the sarcophagus as a corona of biting cold light passed over her.

Air filled her lungs with a ragged gasp, her chest rising high. The first death had been horrible- and the second time had been almost as bad- though at least she didn’t feel try to vomit like last time. She coughed raggedly; trembling as her muscles remembered that they weren’t frozen solid. It was like her body still recalled what had happened, even if it had been completely undone.

“Son of a bitch! Didn’t even give me a second!” She coughed, rolling onto her side and sitting up.

She checked herself over. The flash of pain from coming back to life for the third time had already passed. She was healthy and hale- and not even hungry anymore. That was disturbingly convenient. She rubbed her face. There was no point in trying to rationalize or argue with what was happening. She’d felt her death twice now and she’d come back to life. Wherever she was, this was real, and she was going to have to deal with it.

“Fine. So I just gotta deal with rusty over there,” She said to herself, thinking about the journal that had appeared last time. It appeared in her palm and she double-checked the quest. Yes, it asked her to kill the tomb guardian. “Fricking how?” She demanded, pointing at the machine that was once again looking at the ground.

She sighed and put away the journal, this time calling up the old sack. It appeared and she snatched the knife out of her inventory. It said she could equip the knife without calling the bag in the description of the ability, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for clothes and weapons to appear out of nowhere. A magic sack was something she could at least deal with.

Ianna turned the knife over in her hand. Magic aside, it definitely looked cheap. It was all she had, though, and she would have to make do somehow. The only way she was going to get out of here was past the Tomb Guardian. Dying was... not an issue. it was more a question of whether or not she could get close enough to even try to damage the thing.

Thinking ahead this time, she peered over the backside of the sarcophagus. The drop was a bit farther, but it wouldn’t hurt. More importantly, it put a solid object between herself and the guardian. She slipped her leg over the side and hopped down, landing with a loud slap of her sandals. She winced reflexively, looking around to see if any other terrible critter noticed.

When nothing flew at her, she let out a breath.

“Okay, next step.”

She peered around the side of the sarcophagus to check on the Guardian.

Ianna woke, pushing down the ragged hacking as the instinctive rush of air to her lungs sent her heaving. She sat up again, fury on her face.

“Damn it! That’s it!” She swore and hopped off the backside again.

She was not about to let some rusty, clearly stationary piece of junk get the better of her. Even if she had to die over and over and over, she would eventually figure out the best path to take. It was only a matter of time. Not an if, but a when. She would take that stupid thing down. She bore her teeth, not wanting to look around, and instead darted out from the back of the sarcophagus; seeking the nearest column.

The steps leading up to the sarcophagus were wide and long, more designed for aesthetic than for comfortable walking, and most certainly not designed to be descended at a full run. The ball of her foot caught the edge of a step and she fell; her face hitting the ground as a bloom of white light enveloped her. As it did, she swore that she would find a way out of this, no matter how many times it would take.