Goatie Tales - [The Bored Wizard] Chapter 9 - The Voice Below

Hey everyone, I'm Goatie from Server 73.

This is Goatie Tales, a collection of short stories set in the world we all know, with a bit of humour and chaos mixed in.

This story is The Bored Wizard, following Merlin, an immortal who started this for fun and somehow ended up with a hall full of legendary immortals, a cracked east wall, black puppet strings, and a Philosopher’s Stone that finally decided to wake up.

Last chapter, the puppet master made its first real pull. Merlin turned the portal into a weapon, the strings were ripped away, and the Philosopher’s Stone answered back.

Then something below spoke one word.

Mine.

Welcome to Chapter Nine: The Voice Below.

Chapter Nine: The Voice Below

The word remained in the hall long after the sound was gone. It sat in the stone, in the runes, and in the thin cracks along the east wall. No one lowered their weapon. Leonidas kept his shield raised. Joan’s spear hovered over the glowing floor. Baldwin watched the cracks. Saladin watched the smoke. Gilgamesh stared at the centre rune like he was reading something no one else could see.

Merlin did not move at all.

That bothered Cleopatra more than the voice.

“Merlin,” she said carefully.

He blinked once. “Yes. I heard it.”

“We all heard it.”

“No,” Merlin said. “You heard the word. I heard where it came from.”

The floor pulsed again. Gold light spread from the centre rune like veins beneath marble, then sank back down. Gilgamesh stepped closer.

“It came through the Stone.”

Merlin nodded. “Not from below. Through.”

Attila frowned. “That sounds like below with extra words.”

“It means,” Merlin said, “that the thing beneath the hall is not merely trying to reach the Philosopher’s Stone. It already has a connection to it.”

The room changed. Theodora’s light brightened. Richard tightened his grip on his sword. Alexander’s grin faded into something sharper. Tomoe scanned the ceiling, the walls, and the shadows between the columns.

The cracks in the east wall darkened, not widened, just darkened, as if ink had been poured into the broken stone.

Baldwin saw it first. “It is not attacking.”

Saladin nodded. “It is listening.”

Alexander stepped toward the centre rune and raised his sword. “Good. Then let it hear this.”

Merlin’s staff snapped sideways. “Do not.”

Alexander looked offended. “I was going to be inspiring.”

“You were going to be loud near a magical artifact that just spoke with an ancient thing under the floor.”

“Same thing, depending on the audience.”

Gilgamesh did not smile. “The Stone is not fully awake yet. If you provoke it before we understand what it is responding to, the next voice may not come from below.”

Theodora looked at him. “You think the Stone has its own will?”

“I think anything hidden under a hall, protected by layered runes, and capable of resisting something that old is not just a rock.”

Merlin sighed. “I hate when ancient kings are reasonable.”

Then every rune went dark.

For one dreadful second, there was nothing. No gold light. No blue glow. No protective circles. Only the torches, the dust, and the fading hum of the portal.

Then the central rune ignited.

Gold light burst upward in a thin column. Inside it, something formed. Not a body. Not a face. A shape made of pressure, shadow, and reflected light.

The voice returned.

Give it back.

Leonidas stepped in front of the others without thinking. “No.”

The shape tilted toward him.

The floor beneath Leonidas cracked.

He did not move.

Richard came to his right. Saladin to his left. Baldwin stepped slightly behind them, creating a second line. Joan lowered her spear beside Leonidas’ shield. Tomoe disappeared from sight and reappeared near the east wall, blade angled toward the blackened cracks.

Merlin noticed.

No discussion. No overlap.

This was no longer a room full of powerful people. It was becoming a team.

The shape inside the gold column shifted.

You guard what you do not understand.

Gilgamesh stepped forward. “That has never stopped anyone before.”

Merlin glanced at him. “Helpful.”

Gilgamesh ignored him. “If the Stone was yours, you would not need to ask.”

The hall went colder.

The shadow sharpened.

It was taken.

Cleopatra’s eyes narrowed. “By whom?”

The voice did not answer.

Merlin leaned on his staff. “Ah.”

Theodora turned to him. “You know something.”

“No,” Merlin said. “I suspect something, which is worse because it means I may have to investigate.”

Before anyone could respond, the east wall groaned. The black cracks split open into dozens of thin lines.

“Strings,” Tomoe said.

This time, they erupted.

Black threads shot from the wall, the ceiling, and the spaces between the floor stones. They did not go for the runes. They went for the immortals.

Leonidas caught the first wave on his shield. Joan thrust over his shoulder and pinned one string to the floor. Richard cut two more in a single heavy swing. Saladin sliced only when the strings overextended, wasting nothing.

Baldwin did not chase them.

He watched where they came from.

“There,” he said.

A thicker cord had emerged from the highest crack in the east wall. It was not attacking. It was guiding the others.

Tomoe was already moving. She ran along the broken edge of the wall, stepped off a fallen column, and struck the cord before it could retreat. Her blade cut halfway through it. The cord screamed. The other strings spasmed.

Attila smiled. “Oh, that one matters.”

He drove forward, caught the thick cord with both hands, and pulled. The wall cracked outward. Dust exploded around him. The cord resisted, straining back toward the darkness.

“Merlin,” Attila growled. “Now would be a fine time for wizard nonsense.”

Merlin raised his staff. “I prefer the term applied theoretical brilliance.”

“Do it faster.”

Theodora cast light across the wall. Cleopatra added her magic, gold and violet weaving around the black cord. The strand smoked but did not break.

Gilgamesh stepped beside Merlin. “It is anchored below.”

“Obviously.”

“Can you sever the anchor?”

Merlin looked at the central rune, then at the gold column. “Yes.”

Gilgamesh waited.

Merlin sighed. “But it will probably wake the Stone further.”

Alexander pointed his sword toward the writhing strings. “The Stone being asleep has not been very useful.”

That was, annoyingly, reasonable.

Merlin planted his staff into the central rune.

The gold light surged up his arm.

The runes returned all at once. Blue and gold circles flared beneath every immortal, locking them in place like stars in a constellation. The black strings slowed. The thick cord in Attila’s grip stiffened.

Then the Philosopher’s Stone spoke.

Not with hunger.

With command.

Enough.

The cord shattered.

Every string in the hall dissolved into black ash.

The shadow in the gold column recoiled for the first time.

Merlin, who had been standing with one hand on the staff and the other raised dramatically, looked deeply offended.

“I was handling it.”

Gilgamesh gave him a sideways look. “Clearly.”

The central rune brightened. Beneath the floor, something moved. Not the puppet master. Something closer. Something inside the foundation.

A stone panel in the centre of the room slid open.

Slowly.

Every weapon turned toward it.

A stairway descended into darkness.

No one spoke for several seconds.

Then Alexander smiled. “There it is.”

Leonidas looked at Merlin. “You knew there was a stairway?”

Merlin stared at the opening. “I knew there was probably a stairway.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“It is close enough for dramatic purposes.”

Cleopatra stepped to the edge and looked down. The darkness below did not feel empty. It felt patient. Waiting. Ancient.

The voice below returned, softer this time.

Come down.

Attila rolled his shoulders. “Finally.”

Baldwin looked into the stairway. “That is not an invitation. It is a trap.”

Saladin nodded. “Yes.”

Richard lifted his sword. “Then we enter it properly.”

Tomoe wiped black ash from her blade. “Quietly would be better.”

Genghis Khan grinned. “Properly and quietly are not always friends.”

Theodora looked at Merlin. “What is down there?”

Merlin stared into the dark and, for once, did not make a joke immediately.

“That,” he said, “is where the Stone was first hidden.”

Gilgamesh’s expression changed.

Not fear.

Recognition.

Merlin looked at him. “You know this place.”

Gilgamesh looked down the stairs. “No.”

A pause.

“But I know the story of what was buried under it.”

Below them, something laughed.

Not loudly. Not wildly.

Just once.

Like it had been waiting a very long time for someone to remember.

That is Chapter Nine of The Bored Wizard.

The puppet master has spoken, but the Philosopher’s Stone has spoken too. The hall is no longer just being attacked. It has opened a path downward, and whatever waits below seems to want them to follow.

The team now knows the Stone was taken, the hall was built to contain something, and Gilgamesh may know the story behind what was buried beneath it.

What do you think is waiting under the hall? Is the Philosopher’s Stone protecting them, using them, or leading them into something worse?

And should Merlin really be trusted around ancient stairways he “probably” knew existed?

Drop your thoughts below.

This is Goatie Tales, and the trapdoor just became the plan.