The Weight of Fear
By Theo Winters

Written for ArrowQuivershaft

Nathan wasn't sure what to make of the ruins laid out before him. There were stories in the nearby town about them, that almost everyone who went inside of them vanished without a trace. The few people that had returned spoke of an overwhelming darkness that brought forth their deepest of fears. Some of those said that they had been physically changed by the experience, including one frail old man who claimed to be in his twenties, the darkness having stolen away his youth and vigor.

Yet, as he stood on the small bluff overlooking the ruins, he felt almost nothing from them, they were just the remains of an old village. None of the buildings were standing anymore, littering the ground with piles of stone and rubble, and the rubble itself was covered in a layer of vines and moss. It looked like any other set of ruins he had come upon in his time as a mercenary, there was simply nothing special about them.

And yet, even as he looked over them, he felt a weight in his stomach. There was something there, something hidden in the ruin and rubble, but he couldn't tell what. It wasn't strong, not yet, but it filled him with an unsettled feeling even at this distance. There was some core of truth to the stories he had been told, some shred that had been expanded on by half remembered rumors and time, growing into a legend that was far bigger than reality.

Resting his hand on the hilt of his blade, Nathan strode forward down the grass covered bluff and towards the ruins. Determined to find what this darkness was and put an end to it before the legends grew out of hand. 

"You're dooming yourself," a young girl said. She was walking by his side, skipping to keep up with him, her long yellow dress fluttering around her legs and bare feet. 

Nathan glanced down at her, frowning as he did so. She was the innkeeper's daughter, the same innkeeper whose grandfather claimed to be so young. He hadn't seen her until that moment, the sound of her steps muffled by the tall grass. "I do not fear whatever is in these ruins. Worry not, I will find and put an end to whatever darkness lurks there."

"It's not dark," the girl replied, taking on the tone of a mother being disappointed in her child. "It is a reflection, and it will only show you what you take with you, for good or for ill."

He stopped, looking down at the girl. She was looking back at him with dark green eyes. "A reflection of what?" he asked.

"What do you normally see in the mirror?" 

That was a trite question, and one not worth answering. He just continued walking, lengthening his stride until the girl was falling behind. She called out something else as he walked away, but he ignored her. He didn't care what some little girl said. A child knew nothing of the darkness hiding in the ruins, just the exaggerated stories her parents told her. 

Nathan soon found himself walking through the ruins, stepping around the pile of stones in the familiar outline of buildings. Nothing stood taller than his knees, giving him an unobstructed view of the debris. The feeling of darkness was growing stronger as he neared the center of the former village, pulling him forward. 

At the center was an old well. There had once been a shelter over it, but it had almost completely rotted away, leaving only the poles it had stood upon. There was as small lip to the well, made out of field stones, but many of them had fallen away over the years. It left a ragged edge to the narrow hole. 

He stood over the top of the well, looking down into the depths. It was still early in the day, but the sun had risen enough to cast the light down the well, almost to the bottom. The smell of water rose up from inside of it, though was deep enough to be lost in the sunlight. There were handholds cut into the wall of the wall, they weren't well made, but they were close enough that he could climb down.

Unfortunately, the darkness was pulling him downwards, out of the sunlight. 

Nathan kicked a stone over the edge, listening to it hit the water in moments. "About twenty feet deep," he said with a grunt.

He undid his sword belt and moved it from his hips to his shoulders, allowing the sheathed blade to hang down his back. Carefully he braced himself on the edge of the well, sliding his foot down until he found the first foothold. He had been expecting it to be slick and wet, but it wasn't. His foot stays firmly on the small hold, which easily took his weight.

Moving carefully, he climbed down into the darkness of the well, the sunlight fading with each passing moment. It was nearly pitch black when water splashed against his boot as he reached the. The water wasn't very deep, only a couple of inches, not enough to make a good well.

A second later there was a soft rumble as light started to glow behind him. Turing around in the narrow shaft he discovered that there was an opening on the other side. A small archway was cut into the wall that lead into an underground passage. Light seemed to be glowing from the ceiling of the passage, but there was no sign of crystals or torches, the light just seemed to come from the walls themselves.

He didn't know where the passage lead, but he could feel the pull of the darkness deep inside of it. 

The passage was narrow where it connected to the well, but started to widen out while slowly bending to the right. When there was enough room to make it useful, he removed the sword from his back, returning it back to its proper place on his hip. He left one hand on the pummel, ready to pull it free of the scabbard the moment it was necessary.

Nathan could feel the darkness pulling at him, but it wasn't getting any stronger the further he went down the passage. It was close, but the passage wasn't leading him directly to it. He was also short of breath, which made him worry that the air was growing thin. He didn't wish to turn back, not until he knew more about the darkness, but it was a concern. 

His answer came a few moments later when he came to a t-intersection. There was a shaft in the ceiling, leading up into the ruins above. Sunlight was shining from above, down through the heavy metal grate that was built into the roof of the intersection.

So, the air wasn't a problem, but it also didn't provide him with a way out of the underground chambers.

Turning to the left, he started following the new passage, letting it draw him closer to the darkness. Even with the fresh air, he still found himself short of breath. It was strange, and he didn't know what was causing it. He found himself gripping the hilt of his sword tighter, taking comfort in the feelings of the leather wrapping digging into his palms. 

The growing darkness was starting to press on Nathan, like a growing weight that seemed to increase with each step he took. There was something strangely familiar about the dark power, about how it squeezed against him as he grew nearer. He almost could name it, like a word just on the tip of his tongue, but couldn't quite say. 

It was infuriating. 

He let out a growl, squeezing the hilt even tighter. Clearly the stories of this place had been exaggerated, but maybe not to the extent he had first though. Whatever it was, he needed to destroy it before it could cause any more suffering. This was the sort of power that attracted trouble, the kind of trouble that always made things worse for everyone involved.

Nathan reached another intersection. The new passage was in poor shape compared to the others, the light was dim and the parts of the ceiling had fallen in, leaving piles of stones and dirt covering the floor. There was a breeze blowing down the passage, bringing with it the smell of wet dirt, fresh rain... as well as fresh baked bread?

Maybe the passage led back to the village? There was a baker near the center of town and the smell could be pulled in through another grate. It reminded him that he had only a small meal before setting out to the ruins. Usually it was enough to tide him over, but now his stomach started to twist and growl in hunger. The smell pulled him into the narrow passage, following it without ever thinking about where it might lead. It took a few steps for him to realize that it was also bringing him closer to his goal, though it didn't do anything to silence his stomach. 

He tried to ignore the smell of the bread, even though it was getting stronger the further down the hallway he went. The hall itself was growing tighter the further he pushed on, the broken sections of the wall making it even tighter. There was one point where he had to squeeze between two collapsed sections of the wall. It was a tight fit and for a moment he worried he would become stuck. He had to brace himself and push hard, forcing himself through the gap with a grunt. Unfortunately, the edge of his shirt caught on one of the rocks, tearing the material across his stomach.

"Damn it," he swore, running his fingers over the tear in the material. It was almost as long as his hand, cutting right across his navel. He could still feel the protection magic imbued in the fabric, the damage wasn't enough to break the spell, but he would still have to patch it once he had dealt with the source of the darkness.

This whole endeavor was turning out to be more effort than he had first expected. This was supposed to be a simple little trip into a ruined village, not an extended mission underground. He glanced back the way he had come, his frown growing even deeper. He wasn't going to turn back just because of a little inconvenience. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it no matter what.

With a nod of determination, he started stalking down the hallway, getting closer to the darkness with every step he took. At the same time the smell of bread was growing so strong it was like he was standing in the middle of the bakery. There were other smells now as well, roast beef, the stew from the inn, fresh picked cherries, and even the sweet smell of cakes. 

Nathan put a hand on his stomach, feeling it rumbling under his fingers. The skin rippling at his touch. It felt like he hadn't eaten in a week, or even longer. It was a gnawing feeling, digging up from deep inside of him, trying to push its way out. He found himself coming to a stop, his eyes closing as he took in a long draw of the smell. It was so strong that he could almost taste it. He could just imagine picking up a slice of the cake, feeling the weight of it in his hands. 

Even with his hand empty, he lifted it up to his mouth and tried to take a bite, the imagined flavor washing over his tongue. He had never tasted anything like it before, the cake was soft and moist yet still light and fluffy, and the frosting was sweet, but not too sweet. He could imagine eating slice after slice without any effort at all. Even the whole cake if he could.

He found himself licking his fingers, trying to get every last crumb, but instead of cake he tasted dirt. It was enough to shock him out of his daydream, pulling his fingers out of his mouth with a grunt of disgusted, trying to wipe them dry on his shirt.

Scrapping this tongue across his teeth, he tried to get the last of the sweet taste out of his mouth. He had no idea what sort of spell had come over him, to think of food at a time like this! Not just food, but cake! 

"I don't even like cake," he grumbled. He found it so overtly sweet and it always left his mouth feeling foul. It was a treat for children, not something that he would ever indulge in. 

He pressed his hands against his face, rubbing the skin and under his cheeks. He needed to focus! He couldn't get distracted by something as silly as smells. There was a job to do, and he wasn't going to leave it undone. That wasn't the sort of person that he was, he wouldn't let something like an empty belly forced him to turn back, not when he was this close to the source of the darkness. All he had to do was press forward and ignore the distractions.

Nathan grabbed the hilt of his sword as tightly as he could, trying to focus on the feeling of the leather wrapping pressing against his palm, trying to push away the gnawing hunger. It helped a little bit, but not as much as he would have liked.

Taking one further moment to gather himself, he pushed forward, moving carefully down the narrow corridor towards the source of the darkness and the smells. It wasn't easy going, it seemed like every few steps some part of his body would scrap against the wall, the thin padding of his armor doing very little to help absorb the impact. It was a constant annoyance, but helped to distract himself from the growling of his stomach.

To make matters just that little bit worse, it was getting hotter the closer he got to the darkness. Soon he felt sweat starting to prick across his body, quickly soaking into the tight fabric of his clothing. The padding, while thin, held the heat up against his skin. The only relief came from the tear across the front of his shirt, allowing a little fresh air to get between his skin and the fabric, but it didn't really do anything to keep him dry.

He hadn't been this miserable since the week he had spent crawling through the swamps of Dunganth, pushing through the thick mud and dirty water, every step putting him at risk of going down the maw of some slathering beast. The only saving grace was the fact he could climb up one of the many trees to sleep, and maybe even dry off a little bit. He couldn't do that here; all he could do was press forward.

The passage made another bend, another grate above allowing another beam of light to break through and provide a little extra illumination. The walls were covered in thin patches of dark green moss while small rivulets of water tracked down the wall, following the shape of the broken stones to puddle in the thick mud on the floor.

"I must be close," Nathan said, squeezing the hilt of his sword again. The corruption was growing the closer he got to the darkness, and he was now almost upon it. It felt like it was just out of reach.

He could feel the darkness pushing back against him. Each step becoming harder, taking more force to move himself forward, like he was loaded pack mule. The rough stone forced him to move in a wide gate which pulled his clothing even tighter around his body. It was binding against him, causing him to become short of breath, forcing him to pant. His whole body felt filthy, his clothing pulling and chafing against his skin as his hair matted down across the back of his head and neck.

The passage turned sharply to the right and came to an end at a large wooden door. Thick iron bands crossed the wood, holding the dingy planks together. Nathan put his weight against it, expecting to find the wood swollen closed from the heat and humidity, but it swung open with ease. The moment the door opened, he could feel the darkness inside, reaching for him, but unable to touch him.

Slowly, he stepped through the doorway and into a large room. It was big, almost a hundred feet across and perfectly round. The walls were made of large stones and had been worn almost perfectly smooth. The ceiling rose into an arch above him, water dripping down from it to pool on the floor. The room was filled with old broken furniture, soaked with water and sinking into the mud. A number of candelabras were scattered around the room, each one holding a half dozen candles, all of them lit and casting every with an orange glow.

This was the sort of place he had expected this darkness to be hiding. Now it was time to show it what the light could do.

"You can still turn back," a familiar voice said from across the room.

He spun to face the source of the words, surprised to find the innkeeper's daughter standing next to the wall on a small wooden platform. 

Nathen pointed his sword at her, taking a step in her direction, feeling the mud pulling at his feet, making it harder to lift them from the ground and making him shuffle. There was no other way for her to have gotten into the chamber, and she couldn't have come in after him, yet her she was. This couldn't be the young girl he had seen that morning.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, panting out the words. He tried to keep his sword pointing at her, but the weight of it was causing his arms to tremble.

She let out a long sigh. "You see nothing but what you believe you should see. This does not have to be your fate. You can turn back and save yourself, but if you follow any further down this path, your doom will be assured."

With a snort, he shook his head, taking another step forward. The darkness was pressing down over him, trying to force him to the ground.

The young girl clicked her tongue against her teeth. "You are just like the others, too prideful, too full of yourself. You can't consider that what you see before you are not the truth. Why did you come to this place? What did you hope to earn here in these ruins?" 

"To stop the darkness before it can corrupt-"

"Don't lie to yourself," she snapped, the tone of her voice out of place coming from the mouth of a young girl. "You don't even know what you are facing. You just heard some rumors and decided you had to solve a problem that no one asked you to solve."

Nathan grunted, his arms starting to strain from holding the sword, the point swaying around like a drunken stable hand. He had no choice but to lower it to his side. "I saw what you did to the people in the village."

The young girl smiled and moved forward, stepping off the platform and into the mud. She left no tracks in the thick sludge. "Only the fools who came to confront me. I gave them a choice, a chance to turn away, but they all pushed forward. They knew not what they were facing, only what they [i]believed[/i] they were facing," she said as she walked around the outside of the room, coming to a stop at a large pile of debris and starting to dig through it.

"Their deepest fear," he stated as he took another step forward, crossing the center of the room.

The girl laughed, a rolling pleasant laugh that reminded him of a bright summer day. "It is too late for you, just as it was too late for them. You had your chance to save yourself. Now you must accept your failure." As she spoke, she lifted something out of the pile of debris and leaning it against a broken chair.

"What do you think I fear?" he snapped.

"You tell me," she replied, stepping away, revealing that what she had recovered. It was a mirror, a mirror that somehow had not been broken. While it was covered in a layer of dirt and grime, he could still see his reflection in it. 

It was not a reflection he remembered.

The man that Nathan saw in the mirror was not the one that should have been there, and what he saw filled him with dread. Instead of the image of a proud warrior, he saw a fat fool. A heavy gut pushed out the bottom of his shirt, hanging down over his legs, his torn shirt having pushed up over the curve of his belly to gather under his large moobs. Each leg was thick with the fat, forcing them apart as he stood. His arms were the same, thick and blubbery, swaying with every move. His ass had filled out in kind, ensuring he was just as prominent in back as he was in front.

The worst was his face. It was a face he had seen every day in the mirror, but filled out almost beyond belief. The cheeks with thick and doughy, chins stacked up one under another, filling the space around his neck. There were folds and ripples everywhere, the clothing straining to hold back over twice the man they had been made for.

With a thump, his sword dropped to the muddy ground as he reached up to grab the belly, watching the reflection do the same. He could feel himself grabbing the thick rolls of fat, and as he looked down, he saw that they were indeed a part of him. He could feel it on his body, every extra pound, every inch of fat, it pulled at him, smothering his once trim form in its embrace. He felt his legs starting to shake, his boots sinking deeper into the mud. Every part of him was fat, from his wide face all the way down to his pudgy fingers.

It was the very image he had fought against his whole life. So many from his village looked like this-though he never saw any of them as large as he was-and as a child he had been told that would be his fate as well. He had spent his life fighting against that, trying to keep himself fit, to keep himself strong. Strong enough to fight wherever he was needed.

"What... what did you do?" he asked, gasping out the words.

"[i]I[/i] did nothing," the girl replied with a small snort. "You could have turned back, but you pressed forward without any thought as to what you were doing or why. Now you have trapped yourself in this slovenly form."

Nathan growled, attempting to bend down and pick up his sword, but his stomach got in his way. It pressed against his thighs and prevented him from simply bending over. He had to shift himself to the side, leaning down with one leg while he reached out with his hand. It was a balancing act, fighting against his new mass, trying to keep from falling into the mud. Each shift caused his clothing to pull tighter over his body, he could feel it strain against his wide ass, the seams starting to pop and creak.

He strained to reach the ground, his leg shaking as he finally brushed his fingers against the hilt of his blade. With one last lunge he was able to grab it, squeezing the hilt with his thick fingers as his pants tore apart, splitting right down the middle. The pressure of his ass against the material was enough to force the tear apart, and in moments in ran from belt to seat, allowing his huge ass to jiggle free.

Struggling back to his feet, he tried to grab his pants with his other hand, but missed, hitting his rump instead, making it jiggle even more.

The girl laughed and shook her head. "You still think you can escape, don't you?"

"I'm going to try," he replied, lifting his sword up and pointing it at the girl, the point was swaying and shaking as the weight of the blade was nearly too much for him to hold. 

She shook her head, moving closer to him. She wasn't even pretending to walk anymore, floating above the muddy floor. "No, you're not. A man like you doesn't 'try' to do anything, other than eating as much as you can."

His response was a loud growl from his stomach that made it jiggle like water. A few seconds later he had to lower the blade, unable to hold it anymore. His body was betraying him with every move he made, he couldn't stand, he couldn't fight, he could hardly walk. His changed body was like a stone round his neck, dragging him deeper into the abyss with every passing moment.

But he wasn't going to let that stop him. 

Nathan took a step forward, the suction of the mud pulling his boot off his foot, leaving it bare. The rest of his clothing was faring no better, straining and popping at ever seam, losing the battle against his girth. He didn't care, he just pushed forward, ignoring the growing rips across his body. He was already panting, the exertion almost too much for him, both his weight and the mud slowing him down.

He finally came up to the darkness, looking into the eyes of the young girl whose body it had stolen. He lifted his sword up one last time, making ready to use all of his remaining strength to bring it to an end. He swung it at her neck, even though his aim weak and unsure, but he didn't care where he hit her at this moment, just that he did so.

The blade stuck her shoulder, snapping from the force of the weak impact. The length of the weapon was covered in rust, the edge chipped and dulled, the point ground down until it was nearly flat. He stared at it for a few moments in disbelieve. It was his sword, he would have known it anywhere, he could still see the damage caused by any number of past battles. But it was a weapon that had also been left forgotten and allowed to rot. It was as useless of a weapon as he was a warrior.

With a long sigh, Nathan let it fall from his hand. He seemed to deflate, slouching in front of the darkness, feeling it digging deeper into him with every passing second. 

The girl shook her head. "Just another mortal pest who thinks he can conquer his fears by exploring some ancient ruins. Which seem to revolve around really letting yourself go." As she spoke, she flicked her hand towards him, throwing a ball of blackness against his chest. 

Dark magic washed over him, dancing over his skin and clothing. He looked down in horror as he watched the remains of his light armor melted away, being reformed into something else. A pair of soft stretchy pants that hugged over his lower body-the waistband digging into his gut-and a shirt that was too small, pulling tight around his upper arm and riding up over his belly, exposing his gut to the world.

"Please no," he said, finding that begging was no longer below him.

She shook her head. "You brought this upon yourself," she replied.

He wanted to rage against her, to tell her that it was unfair that just coming into the ruins was 'bringing it upon himself'. He had just done what any mercenary would do. There were no signs, no clues that he should have turned back, just a warning from a little girl. He wanted to yell and scream, to try and do anything in protest... but he no longer had the strength to do so.

Finally, he looked back at the narrow passage that had brought him to this place, now far too narrow for him to pass through. He couldn't leave the way he had come. "What now?" he asked, grabbing at the hem of his shirt and trying to pull it back down over the pale skin of his gut.

The little girl smiled and drifted back to the mirror, just touching it with the tips of her fingers. The dirty surface rippled, the reflection fading away, being replaced by a door. "This will lead you away from here. To a world and a life far more suited to the man you really are."

Nathan said nothing, he just walked towards the door. His gut hug low enough that it got in the way of his legs, forcing him to swing them wide to get past the majority of it, forcing him into a rolling waddle that made him sway from side to side with each step he took. The door seemed to grow as he approached it, until it was standing tall in the center of the ruins.

He reached up to the handle of the door, hesitating for a moment.

"You will be safe there and you will find it easy to have all your needs tended to. You will have everything a man of your stature could ever ask for," the darkness explained, almost like she felt bad for what had been done to him.

Closing his eyes, Nathan twisted the handle of the door and shoved it open. The smell of fresh baked food rolled over him, making his belly growl in hunger. There were breads, cakes, pastries and so many sweet things. He could smell the sugar hanging in the air, pulling him forward.

Nathan crossed the threshold, stepping out of the damp ruins and into a warm bakery in some distant world. The moment he was through, the door swung closed behind him with a heavy thud. It vanished a few seconds later, leaving only the dirty mirror standing in the center of the empty ruins.

 -=-=-=-=-=-
 
This story was written and copyright 2019 by Theo Winters, reposting and archiving are allowed as long as this copyright notice and the author's name are not removed. This story cannot be published without permission of the author. Violators will be fattened.