TR: 39

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Awake At Last

Zocks surveyed the humble town of Latan from a rocky overlook, Arlyrra behind, watching the commander impatiently as she leaned against the mountain.

Mount Ancillus–one of many well-known peaks within the Shadow Range–provided the perfect vantage point to take in the nation’s capitol. The town was well fortified, hemmed in on the backside by the towering stony peaks of the range, the rest of it surrounded by ten-blade plate steel walls, a veritable fortress. Originally, Latan had been a Scorssian military garrison, established somewhere between 12,000 and 10,000 BCE, however, some historians disputed the point and claimed that much evidence pointed to the fact that Latan had once very likely been a dwarven stronghold, dating back as far as two hundred thousands year prior to that, and that the garrison had been erected atop said ruins. But the jury was officially out on the topic as no extant records of the alleged dwarven establishment had survived the many wars and border-shifting that had occurred in the area.

Over the years–and chiefly following the great reclamation–Latan had burgeoned from its humble military upbringing into the one-hundred thousand strong population that it was to the day. Despite the relatively unimpressive number, Latan was the single-most populous town on the continent and had thus earned the title as the nation’s capitol, though that was disputed by some, mainly the Torryan–the Dark Elves. Regardless of its official status, Latan was a pleasant enough town and it was easy to see why so many factions had fought over it for centuries past; aside from being cradled in the shadow of the Shadows, Latan was also nestled in a valley known as the Great Flora Plains, the valley itself flanked on the far end by Lake Solitude. So Latan afforded not only a view of both the ocean and the mountains, certain vantage points also had lake view.

Beyond its obvious aesthetic appeal, as the one real city on Enes, Latan could also boast being the major trade hub in the area. The town was a constant hubbub, its ports frequently full with eager merchant and trade vessels, importing vital goods for which they in turn would receive a fair share of Enes’s abundant minerals, precious metals, exotic lumber and other commodities unique to the area. As a resource-rich nation, Latan had seen much commercial development over the years, especially after the trade embargoes were lifted following reclamation. But the Great Reclamation had not solved all of Enes’s problems. Far from it, in fact. Despite the local indigenous’s storied claims to the area, the Torryan also had long roots in Latan. The problem was that the Torryan–not the bannamud–had sided with Mokul during the Plague Years and, following Crimson Eve, it was an understatement to say that his former allies were not given many concessions. And so, through both artifice and circumstance Latan was reclaimed by the Bannamud who had long called it home, despite the pleas of their lessers. As such, tensions remained high in the nation and claims of legitimacy did little to put an end to the constant raids from those who hoped to take back what they felt was rightfully theirs.

But Latan would not be theirs–it would be his. An industrial town, the lumber mills, smelting plant, forges and substantial armory would be put to good use by the True Force. But seizing the town would be no walk in the field. Latan was well prepared for attacks from the outside and even the flows would do little to help get him past the layers of heavily reinforced plate steel that surrounded the city. More, even if he could breach the wall, a head-on assault would not be the way to go about it; along the top of the wall there were turrets set every half-bout or so which were manned by RARs–Rapid Articulating Repercussors–essentially, plasma-fuelled gatling guns. Even with his numbers, RARs put out a whopping one-hundred-and-fifty rounds per second, and with the bottleneck that a breach imposed, a hundred thousand strong turned into a hundred at a time, which could easily be dealt with in one fell swoop by those weapons. No, the way into town from Latan would not come from the outside–but from the inside. He would have to convince someone to let them in.

He scribed flaming figures in the air in front of his face as he studied the town below, sketching a mock-up of the city in fire.

Unable to wait idly by any further, Arylrra walked over and stood beside Zocks, putting a hand on her hip.

“I think you are over-thinking this commander.” Arlyrra said with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

Zocks glanced at her for a moment then went back to his preparations, all but ignoring her.

“Look,” she sighed. “If you must have Latan then I think it would be best if you consulted my father. He knows their ways–their strategies. My people have a long and intricate relationship with this city…”

“You mean they have tried to steal it back, multiple times. Without success, I might add.”

Arlyrra bristled. “One cannot steal what belongs to them, commander. But this is beside the point I am trying to make–my father’s knowledge would be invaluable to y… to the True Force. He has many connections in this land, connections which may aid our cause.”

He stood up and faced her, his flaming sketch dissipating into a tuft of smoke.

“Even if I wanted to get a third party evaluation on this matter–and I don’t–just what do you propose I could offer the king of the Dark Elves that would convince him to get involved? From what I have heard, he doesn’t sound like the bargaining type.”

She glanced down at the town, watching the people milling about in their everyday life. She watched one merchant trundling down the main avenue in an oxcart towed by two muskegen yoked together, his cart near overflowing with various wares from a far-off land. People walked and shopped around him, a public market by the look of it.

“Put me in charge.” She said finally.

Zocks watched her expression for a long moment, and when he could see that she was not joking he laughed out loud.

“Ah yes, then everything would work out, wouldn’t it? A present to the king’s daughter; how fitting the gift of an army.”

“I’m not talking about the army, commander. Put me in charge of Latan. Managing the True Force, you will be too preoccupied to add another town to that agenda. It is why states delegate responsibilities, after all. No one man is an army, as the saying goes. If you let me help with this, I can assign people to the jobs that best suit them and distribute supplies to where they are needed.”

Zocks eyed her suspiciously. “To your people, you mean.”

Arlyrra shrugged. “Yes. And no. If my people are involved then they will certainly take part in both the work and the spoils, but is this truly the crime that you make it? Would you deny a soldier his dues?”

A small smirk at the corner of his mouth. “I just find it…convenient that the queen gets her castle at the end. Don’t you?”

“There is nothing convenient about waiting millennia to return to a promised land, commander. If the by-product of my peoples’ help results in them regaining that which they long for most, then I don’t see why anyone would balk at the chance. You get supplies–and more troops–and we get Latan. It’s a win-win.”

Zocks crossed his arms. “So, what exactly are you suggesting then? That I make you governor of Enes?”

“Call it what you want, commander: I already have enough titles to pass on to my grandchildren’s grandchildren. It’s the land that I want. This town is more than just a bargaining chit to my people; it is a sacred land, its soils containing the blood of many of my kin who fought to maintain it.”

Zocks shook his head. “It seems we are…inadvertently becoming a business of appropriating holy grounds then, wouldn’t you say?”

Arlyrra’s eyes narrowed at the commander. “What happened at the training ground–that is between you and the Jejum. Perhaps, it is the cost of doing business. I see that now. But this is something much beyond that; Latan is a symbol, commander. Much more than just the land upon which it sits. Whoever holds this city holds great power. It has always been such, and so it will continue to be. And with that much productive power, coupled with the help of my people, the True Force will have the start it needs. But that will not be enough. I take it that you are new to this land, so I will assume that you do not have very many friends here…”

“You will assume nothing about me.” Zocks said dangerously.

“Very well. But things are beginning to move, commander, and we must move with them. As I said, my people have connections in far places; you are going to need those connections when you topple the throne, as it were.”

“Oh, and why is that?”

Now it was Arlyrra’s tone to snort derisively. “Enes is a member-state of the Syntrofal Alliance. Do you think the Queen will just sit idly by when of her largest trading partners is gutted from the inside-out?”

“Ah, yes. Lei-Rawan. A wildcard, to be sure.” Zocks batted his hand dismissively. “But she is of little consequence. Latan will be a swift takeover, if all goes to plan. There will be little room for recourse, even less for recoil. When word reaches the continent, hands will already be changed. Borders shift frequently. This is nothing new in the scheme of global politics. We will honour any and all existing deals, given they remain beneficial to our cause. This should be sufficient to keep Vos appeased.”

“Perhaps, though I do not share in your optimism. The Bronze Towers will certainly not. And if Atlandia imposes restrictions on Vos to punish our actions, what then? Even if Vos looks the other way at the transgression, the New World will certainly sever ties with us. And continental Atlandia comprises nearly eighty percent of our market for agricultural export and goods, which in turn makes up roughly twenty-nine percent of our entire GDP. Are you prepared to take such an economic hit right off the running block? And how long until the army demands pay-out? With your wizard gone, and no wages to keep morale going, how long do you suppose they will fuel themselves on self-righteousness? Passion rarely puts food on the table.”

Zocks raised an eyebrow at the elfess. “I see you have done the math.”

“It is my job to do the math. Among my people I am a guide, of sorts, both spiritually and tangibly. If I shirk the details then the foundations of peoples’ lives begin to crumble, and when people crumble communities soon follow. So you see, commander, I cannot forsake details, neither then nor now.”

Zocks looked at her, cold, blank, expressionless. She hated it when he gave her that look. He looked off to the D’dakian woods, a dark swathe sprawling out over a vast countryside beyond the lake, ominous clouds gathering above rivalling the forest in austerity. Beyond the woods, a vast expanse of tundra could be seen, scabland reaching out to a vanishing point, seeming to go on forever. Enes was a hard place, and things were about to get much harder. For him–for all of them…

He turned back to Arlyrra. “I applaud your pragmatism, lady elf. You have proven to me time and again that you have the qualities of a leader. Lucky for you, Latan is not the big picture in this game, and sacrificing on piece will make little difference in the end. I accept the invitation to meet with your father, but I promise nothing.”

Arlyrra nodded subtly. “My father would appreciate those terms, as do I.”

Zocks looked to the side, his gaze falling back onto the unforgiving forest, looking like the last place anyone would want to be.

“Come then, let us return to those wretched woods from whence you came.”

Arlyrra stood up straight, defiantly. “A stone breaks down in a thousand gentle currents; it becomes a mountain only through the forge of nature, cultivated by hard ground.”

He turned away, starting back on the path leading down the cliff.

“Now that’s the kind of attitude I expect from the governor.”

***

“This is as far you go.” The woman in the colorful dress told him.

She hadn’t told him her name, only that she was a sister, whatever that meant. Names meant very little in this place, anyway.

They had come to a stairway suspended in space, physics and time no longer a principle of reality. Where they had come from did not seem to matter either, only that they had reason to be where they stood. All around them seemed to be empty space–a black void, drawing all the emphasis onto the stairway before them. Kade watched as the woman reached into her pocket and came out with a key that was impossibly large to have come from it. It shimmered silver in some unseen light source which seemed to pervade the space. Kade watched as the woman ascended the staircase, slowly but with precise movements. With every step she took, the stair upon which she last treaded dissolved into nothing, leaving an emptiness behind. She came to the top landing, supported by nothing other than the space beneath it, just as the rest. A small wall framed the landing, adjoining another staircase at its top edge which ran upside-down and parallel to the first. As if it were common practice, she began to walk up the wall in an inverted position, perpendicular to the landing. She then shifted positions onto the other staircase, walking upside-down from Kade’s position below, the stairs vanishing behind her as before. When she reached the other end she came to a door which she unlocked with the comically-large key. She pushed the door open and a bright white light shone through from the other side. As she began to pass through, Kade cupped his hands around his mouth, calling to her:

“Where are you going?” he asked

She looked down at him (up from her perspective). “Where I am needed next. Do not try to follow or there will be consequences.”

With a single stride she was through the door and the last step vanished shortly after. The door closed behind her, perhaps, by itself, and Kade stood in both empty space and complete silence, looking up at the derelict door floating in nothing.

“There will be consequences? Gods, she sounds like my mother.”

Kade’s gaze meandered away from door to the space around him. He stood there silent for a moment, contemplating his existence. His contemplating became brooding, seguing into complete and utter boredom. He let himself fall backwards onto his behind, letting out a listless groan. To his surprise, the sound echoed through space before him, reverberating out as if he were in a massive cavern. The air before him distorted around the sound of his voice, as if it were a viscous liquid. He watched in awe as the sound waves formed a small strip of energy, coalescing into a physical form before they vanished seconds later. He frowned in bewilderment at the darkness before him, staring in silence as he tried to take in what he had just seen. Then, just like the vagaries a child’s mind goes on, Kade couldn’t help himself and he uttered another guttural sound. Once more the sound rippled through space and time, forming a visual wave that glowed like a gossamer filament, lingering for a time and then flickering out of existence nearly as fast as it had come. Kade stood up.

“I wonder…” he whispered.

He clapped his hands together as loudly as he could and a solid slab of light appeared before him, glowing with a warmer ebb than the last. Kade watched with renewed focus, waiting until the form disappeared.

“Four seconds. Hmm, it seems to change based on the volume. But what about…”

Kade clapped loudly again and, this time, when the form appeared, he reached out and placed a hand firmly against the surface of the form. He yelped and withdrew his hand, as if expecting a shock, but no pain ensued. Quickly, before it disappeared, he placed his hand atop it again and pushed down hard, his hand passing through it once it had dissipated. Kade inspected his hand to find that there was no apparent damage done. He looked up to the door high above and his eyes traced a path through the darkness from its position to his. He took a deep breath.

“Here goes nothing.”

He clapped and the light-form appeared. This time, he jumped up onto the form and, as he had properly assumed, his feet landed solidly upon it. He felt the force below him falter and he fell back to the formless floor below. He landed with a soft thud that reverberated around him like a million whispers. He glanced up to the door above him and with a grunt of determination he clapped his hands once more. A form appeared again and he hopped up onto it. Once stable, he clapped his hands again and another form appeared. He bounded from the first form to the other, clapping and hopping, rising higher and higher above the ground-that-was-not-a-ground. The thought crossed Kade’s mind of what falling from that height would do in that place but he quickly rejected it as he reigned in his focus back to the task at hand. The sounds of his overlapping claps began to beat around him like the din of hollow drums. As he neared the door, he gasped as he watched it begin to fade out of existence. Whether it was something he had done or not, Kade wasted no time and frantically hopped from form to form, each flashing out of existence in his wake. As the door became translucent then near-transparent, Kade panicked and launched himself off the last clap-form, throwing himself shoulder first at the door.

***

Kade exploded through the door, bursting through to the other side, expecting a hard landing but instead found himself suspended in air for the briefest of moments. And then, as if some unseen god had flicked the switch to turn gravity back on, Kade felt the world flip and he sailed upwards toward the ceiling. The hard hit came after all and he barely had time to gasp from being winded before the splinters and fragments of the door rained down on him. After the last of the shrapnel had fallen, Kade peeked out between his arms cradling his head and saw that all was still around him. Slowly, he pushed himself up off the dusty stone floor, taking in his new surroundings. He was in a long, winding hall of sorts, with wooden doors at regular intervals on either side, similar to the one he had come through. Kade turned back to look at said door and was surprised to find that the hole was no longer there, now replaced with a nondescript wall. He looked down to his feet and found that the shrapnel from the broken door was also gone. It was as if he had never broken through it. Looking at the floor his eyes traced from his feet down the hall and he frowned at the strange sight before him; not only were the doors in a strange position butted up to the ceiling, as if skewed upwards, there were chandeliers sticking straight up out of the floor all along the hall, as far as he could see before the hall turned out of sight. He walked up to the one nearest to him and reached out to touch the chain holding it up. Oddly enough, it was taut, as if gravity were pulling on it. Except, it was if gravity were pulling it upwards, which was impossible.

Unless…

It was then that Kade realized he was the one upside-down. Somehow, he had emerged out of the last space and ended up on the ceiling of another. But how was that possible? Perhaps, the rules–like names–had little meaning in this place as well. He decided it was much ado about a thing he could not change, so Kade moved on. He walked cautiously down the silent hall, making his way around one of the great chandeliers, glancing at the impossible sight of the flames burning upside down. As he approached a doorway, Kade became curious. He stepped up onto his tippy-toes and grabbed the edge of the doorframe which came to just above his head level. He hoisted himself up and reached out an arm, grasping the knob. The door was unlocked and Kade managed to crack it open ajar enough to see in.

Before him was as strange of a sight as Kade could ever recall seeing. The room was a small, enclosed stone alcove, large enough perhaps for a small cot and dresser. Inside there was a disgusting looking creature–a goblin, perhaps–working on a spinning wheel. It had pallid, warty skin, long droopy ears and beady black eyes that, coupled with its insidiously cynical expression, painted a picture of extreme oddity. The goblin pumped a foot pedal with a dusty old boot, the wheel creaking on its axis like and old, rickety house. From the wheel a fine, red string was collecting on a loom set against the wall, like the threads of a crimson web. The goblin huffed as it worked tirelessly, the foot pedal wheezing with every pump of its boot as if it too were beyond tired. A soft glow caught Kade’s eye, a flame flickering in the background from an old cast-iron stove in the corner, the glass looking weathered and old beyond measure. Kade watched in wonder as an image began to form on the segments of the loom, the weave zig-zagging rapidly across in warps and wefts. While incomplete, Kade could make out the picture of a woman in a dress running from some terrible, shapeless creature. Kade looked back to the goblin and watched as the creature reached into a dirty bucket beside it, pulling out a slimy red mass dripping some kind of liquid. It plunked the object in a hopper affixed to the wheel and the hopper shook violently, a horrific grinding sound mulching whatever it was that the goblin had just inserted. On the other side of the hopper there was a feed which attached to a series of smaller wheels which interconnected with the larger main wheel. Kade could see a fine, red line being fed from the system, glistening with fresh moisture from the hopper. Whatever it was the goblin had fed his machine it smelled horrible, like meat that had gone off. Before he could make out anything else, there was a loud kerchunk as the last thread exited the feed, the wheel spinning to a stop as the machine shut down. The final weave threaded into place and, suddenly, the image began to move, extruding itself from the two-dimensions on which it had been crafted. The image became an object which then floated off the wall, hovering a half-blade from the floor.  The girl turned and locked eyes with Kade, a level of desperation in her expression which told of impending doom. She shrieked and sped towards the door, the formless creature in tow. The two specters flew over Kade’s head as he ducked out of the way, out into the hall where they soon evanesced out of existence. He pulled himself back up, looking into the room. The goblin was standing, wiping its hands with a dirty rag, red liquid staining the already stained rage. It glowered at Kade, its beady, black eyes showing clear disapproval.

“Did you think they came from nowhere, boy? Nothing’s ever for free.” He mumbled to himself, his voice like sandpaper.

“Thoughts come at a high price, oh yes. Though, I’ve never used fresh parts before. I wonder what kind of creations I can make with that, hmm?”

Kade realized the goblin meant his parts and would have none of it. He let himself fall of the ledge, landing in the hall. He ran away from the door, looking back over his shoulder though the goblin did not appear to follow. The hall seemed to stretch on forever, chandeliers and doorways continuing on as far as he could see. As he sprinted down the never-ending hall, he felt something change; the hall had begun to contort into a spiral, winding back in on itself. Despite the Eshcerian twist, he continued to run indiscriminately, eventually finding himself running along the wall, then the ceiling again, then the opposite wall, until, finally, he was back on the floor. The rightful floor, that was. He came to a stop, panting as his heart raced from the sprint. He looked back to make sure no one had followed and then a terrifying thing happened: the twisted hall behind him collapsed in on itself, unravelling itself into a straight path then retracting, the far wall rushing up to meet him. The sight was dizzying and Kade tumbled backwards from the very vertigo of it. He landed on his elbows, the wall zipping up to him. He shuffled backwards frantically, the wall butting up against his shoes, pushing him along the smooth stone floor. He slid across the floor for several seconds until he felt something soft underneath him, the floor changing, and then the wall stopped, halting in a place.

Once more, it was a boring old wall, and once more Kade was in a new location. He looked down and saw that the soft feeling came from a long throw rug which he now lay on. Apprehensively, he got back to his feet and turned to find himself in a new hall–this one much shorter, more like an oblong room. There was not much to speak of in the room save a handful of torches in sconces on the wall and a strange statue at the other end of the room. Kade approached the statue and saw that it had been set up like a shrine, tealights set abundantly around it, a plinth at its base with what looked like old animal bones and some desiccated plants–offerings. The statue itself was of a cloaked figure with its head bent repentantly, or perhaps in thought or prayer. There was no apparent face, only darkness within the carved marble folds of its cowl. Most interestingly was the position of its arms, crossed in front of its chest as if cradling something or, perhaps, protecting itself. All in all the statue was creepy, portent.

As Kade leaned closer to try and take a look under the thing’s hood, suddenly, the figure flung its arms open, its cloak parting aside like a bird’s wing taking to flight. Kade jumped back, startled. The statue–if it was truly a statue–remained frozen in the new position, arms now open with its hands angled toward its body as if beckoning one to come closer, though its head had remained unmoved, still obscured. Oddly, a large portrait was fastened to its chest, likely the object the statue had been cradling. It was a lifelike painting done in what appeared to be acrylic, though it was so realistic Kade could not make any one brushstroke. Kade stared at the painting before him, his heart racing in his chest. The painting depicted a woman in a dress, holding a hand out towards a large towering mass of black…something…that had taken on somewhat of a bipedal form. Kade had never seen anything like it but even looking at its depiction struck terror into his being. Whatever it was it was the worst kind of horrible; Kade could feel palpable energy radiating out of the thing, through the paint and out into the dreamscape in which he had been cast, grasping at him like a trillion tiny needles. Nausea roiled up from the bottom of his stomach and he felt his breath grow tight. The creature’s eyes seemed fastened to his and the longer he locked eyes with it the more sick he felt. He gasped, wrenching his gaze to the side, feeling like he was forcing his head against another’s prying grip. He fell to one knee, ironically, looking like he had come to worship at the shrine that many others clear had before him. Slowly, he moved his eyes back up to the painting, taking it in from a different angle. This time, he focused on the woman, realizing then that it was both the same person–and creature–that he had seen disappear down the hall previously. Somehow, they had been entrapped in another caricature of a scene and, somehow, he had been led to them again.

Was there a purpose to him being there? Was he supposed to see something?

In the painting, a light emanated from her palm. Kade had never seen magick before but he knew what he was looking at as he had watched Flow Wars enough times on his holovision back at home to get the gist of what the woman was doing. There was an air of futility about her gesture, as if she knew that the spell she was about to conjure would do little to nothing to stop the creature which she faced. Everything else about the painting also suggested as much, from the dark palette that the author used down to the bleak lighting peaking out from behind distant cumulonimbus clouds collecting on the horizon. Despite its apparent darkness, there was also a sense of hope in the painting, though Kade couldn’t put a finger on why he felt that way. Kade’s eyes danced over the curves of the rolling hills in which the two fought, a countryside which had seen better days. Rocky runes of demolished structures were scattered about like tombstones, a cookie-crumb trail leading to the rampaging black thing central to the piece. And then, Kade heard a voice come from the painting. It was the voice of falling leaves; the final sigh of a parting wind.

Come. It said.

Kade glanced at the painting warily. “How?”

The figure moved one its arms towards him, Kade jumping back a foot in surprise. At that point, he realized it was not the painting speaking to him but the statue.

Not a statue, apparently.

It pointed at him–but past him. Kade cautiously looked over his shoulder. Where once was none now was a small tables stand against the wall. Atop it was an egg-sized stone the color of quicksilver, and nothing more. He glanced back at the statue-thing, its arm now back in the previous position at its side.

Kade picked up the stone, hefting it in his hand. It had weight to it. He turned back to the statue.

“This?” he asked.

The statue only stared down at the floor, providing no further clarification. As he turned the stone over in his hand, examining it for clues, a strange feeling came over him, as if the floor were beginning to liquefy beneath him. The stone suddenly began to grow heavier. Much heavier. The table stand began to grow and grow and then it was soaring above him as if the rest of the room were growing along with it. In a trance, Kade could only turn his head to the side to see that the statue, too, had grown a hundredfold or more. And then, he realized, it was not the room growing but he shrinking.

As he shrunk toward the floor, the stone became a boulder in his arms and with a groan of effort he heaved the now-atlas stone away fro him. He and the stone plummeted towards the floor and the stone–now taller than he–crashed to the floor beside him with a thunderous sound, missing his leg by pinches. He scurried backwards on his rear, looking at his terrified reflection in the smooth surface of the stone as it span around from the force of being dropped. After several seconds it slowed to a stop and Kade sat there, his heart pounding, now no bigger than an ant. The room was still, a juxtaposition against the abject terror that he felt in his now insect-like state. He stood up, looking to the table where he had plucked the stone, now a towering structure fit for a skyscraper in a major city. He looked over at the statue, now looming above like a mountainous god, though he could still not make out any face in the darkness of its hood. Kade understood then why others had brought it offerings; perhaps, they, too, had seen what he was seeing then. The feeling was…inexplicable. Pure humility. A feeling of absolute smallness. Insignificance. 

And then the statue came to him. Leaning forward–Kade could hear the earsplitting groan of stone cracking as it broke free from its position–it bent over and lay its arm on the floor, palm up.

“Come.” It said once more in its wispy voice.

As if seeking confirmation, Kade looked over to the stone in astonishment, his distorted reflection staring back at him equally bewildered. The colors in the stone seemed to shift around as if they were alive. Perhaps, they were. Kade did not want to wait around and find out. Apprehensively, he made his way towards the hand which now was much taller than he. When he reached it, he pulled himself up onto its palm and stood looking up into the blackness of the creature’s cloak. The thought came to him then that the statue could easily crush him in its grasp, had it wanted to, and that limitless sense of worthlessness returned. But the statue did not crush him; instead, it lifted its arm from the floor, Kade sailing through the air over what felt like uncountable stories, towards the painting affixed to its midsection. The hand stopped level with the statue’s heart–or where a heart would have been–holding Kade suspended in space. The painting was so close it was almost within reach. Kade stared at the painting, the details so much clearer close up. Kade felt as if he were in the painting. And then he began to hear sounds–voices screaming, metal grating, guttural growling from things not of Rynn.  His eyes fell onto the shapeless creature which now towered over him like a menacing cloud, making it all the more terrifying. He looked at the woman in the painting and he gasped as he realized who he was looking at.

“Sister?”

***

Kade’s voice was cut off as the crashing sound of stone falling to the earth bellowed around him. A roar cut through the air and a sound like a bomb going off echoed across the plains. He no longer stood on the hand–he was in a field being bombarded by flaming meteorites. Smoke billowed up in columns from the land which was covered in charred brimstone and rubble from what looked to be an entire town laid to waste. The sky above him was overcast with black clouds stirring about in a stormy mire. In the distance were the silhouettes of black mountain peaks, cold and somber. A deep chasm was rent into the earth that divided the plain as far as the eye could see, though there was no indication of where it had come from. He saw movement and, out of a large plume of smoke a huge black figure emerged, looking as if it, too, were made of the smoke from whence it came.

Kade was in the painting.

His heart raced and he had never been so terrified in his life. The thing before him could not be explained by words. It was one massive creature but…it was also many at the same time. Kade could see things writhing around in it, things that looked like no creature he had ever seen or read about. They were black and they glistened like metal, somewhere between humanoid, insect, with edges like weapons. Had the creature consumed all of those souls to create it? Or was it borne out of some twisted ritual, perhaps? Kade’s thoughts raced as he tried to put words in his mind to what he was seeing. And then a bolt of white lightning arced out from below, jarring him from his trance, striking the black mass in the shoulder. It roared, more in rage than pain, the sound of animalistic thunder, and it raised a massive fist into the air, coming down hard on one of the few remaining stone structures left standing in the area. The building exploded, a plume of stone dust billowing out over the charred landscape. A figure ran up a flight of stairs nearby, heading to a stone plateau which appeared to be all that was left of what once must have been a temple. She stopped halfway up the flight and raised a hand at the creature, an orb of light forming in her palm just as it had in the painting. She released the spell and the ball-lightning struck the creature in its face, exploding into a tangle of electric snakes which enveloped its head in blue flame. It roared into the sky, grasping its face with its massive talons, clawing at its own flesh–or whatever it was–to put out the fire.

“Sister!” Kade shouted.

He hopped off the stony precipice which he stood on, running over the fractured plateau toward the direction which the sister headed.

The sister turned her attention toward the sound, stopping for a stunned moment until she realized what she was seeing. She waved her hands frantically at Kade.

“No, boy! I told you not to follow me.”

“Wait for me, sister! Don’t leave me here alone.” Kade yelled as he ran toward her.

“I cannot take you where I am going. You cannot come. Do not try to follow.”

Kade stopped, confused. “Where are you going? Why can’t I come?”

“Because I am going to the end, Kade. This–this here–this is the end. It is the end as you have foreseen it. As you see it now, so you will see it then.”

Kade didn’t have any idea what she was talking about.

“I…I don’t know what this thing is! I didn’t have anything to do with it! Please, just take me with you. I…”

“All you can do now is tell them. Warn them what is coming. If you are prepared, then maybe this time… there is hope. Tell them…”

The creature batted out the last of the flames, turning its enraged attention toward the casual conversation before it. It turned its burning red eyes to Kade, Kade feeling its gaze fall on him. Its stare paralyzed him, like a poison penetrating his soul. It scooped up a massive handful of blackened earth in its claw and, holding it before it for a moment, the claw went alight with molten fire. It raised its massive arm and flung the flaming detritus at Kade. Kade screamed and raised his hands to shield his face as the wall of flaming earth hurdled toward him. Hellfire rained down around him, a large chunk striking the plateau a blade in front of him, exploding earth and flames jettisoning Kade backwards from the impact. He flew off the cliff, soaring out over the hellish land, toward the black slash in the land that was the chasm. Like a gaping maw it swallowed him whole and he watched as the edge of the world seemed to disappear and the scene–the painting–vanished out of sight, giving way to a sheet of blackness, his screams engulfed by a pervasive silence.

He continued to fall through empty space, surrounded by nothing but black emptiness. He fell and fell, the seconds blurring together until minutes no longer made any sense and then time itself melted into a sheet of imperceptibility. He screamed but if there was a sound, he could no longer hear it. It was as if the vacuum absorbed the sounds–feeding off of them. But then the chasm changed. As he fell deeper and deeper, he could make out forms in the darkness. They were familiar yet no less terrifying. They were the very same things that had made up that creature that had sent him there–those same deadly edges, forms that were not quite human. They writhed and squirmed, embedded into the walls of the chasm as if they were the very things that made it up. Their numbers were unfathomable–legions upon legions of them, waiting impatiently. Were they trapped? Or was this their home? What were they? Why was he here?

The questions were endless, the answers were nowhere.

And then, it began to grow brighter as he fell deeper, the shuffling shapes of the oddities within dissipating as the walls around him began to glow a molten red, as if Kade had fallen to the very core of Rynn. Kade looked down and a shape stirred below. A circle of light, not welcoming, grew in his vision. Molten magma, something standing in its center. A person? No, impossible. What then…

The shape in the black armour slowly raised its head, staring up at him as he fell toward it. A jagged, black crown with blades jutting out like ebony swords, a cape made of smoke or, perhaps, the night itself. The hot air cut across his face with an admonishing bite, his flesh feeling like it was beginning to separate from the bone. The figure beneath raised an armoured hand at him, its face a shapeless black mist like its cape. Its eyes were not eyes but instead orbs of collected fire. It opened its mouth, more fire billowing out as if its insides were composed entirely of it. And Kade screamed silently as he fell into its grasp, into those flaming eyes…

***

He screamed, falling backwards off the log and onto his back. The wet dampness of the lichen was welcoming, despite soaking through his coat some. He blinked at the night sky, clear and star-strewn. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before pulling himself back up onto the log. Once seated again he looked around at the familiar site of the campfire, five undiscernible figures sitting around it, just as before. He looked over each, somehow, the light of the fire not quite reaching them, like an unfished sketch.

“Why… why here?” He finally said.

The figures remained silent.

“I mean…why do I always come back to here?”

“What else is there?” One of them said.

Kade did not recognize the voice.

“I’ve seen a lot of things. There’s more than just this. Some of it’s…terrible. Others are beautiful.”

A long pause.

“This is all that matters.” said another, also unrecognizable.

Kade didn’t what they meant. He sat in awkward silence for a long while, then finally one of them said:

“It is time for you to leave now.”

“Leave…?”

Kade felt his eyes growing heavy.

“Don’t forget to tell them.”

“Tell them?”

He felt himself drifting off into a distant, unfamiliar world.

“We will be waiting.”

***

Kade opened his eyes, the world slowly coming into view, the sounds of the last voice echoing through his head. He stared up at a paneled ceiling and the faint aroma of perfume filled his nose. He yawned, stretching out his arms. He felt the warmth of the blankets and the comfort of a soft mattress. He sat up in the bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He looked around the room, confused. It was a small room with not much more than a bureau and a lamp in one corner and a small bed stand with a glass of water that didn’t seem to be touched. There was one window in the room, covered with sheer drapes the color of an alvam tree’s leaves in the autumn. A beam of sunlight crept between an opening in the drapes, basking the room in a serene light. By his best estimate, it was midday. There was a single wooden door with square paneling matching the walls. Other than the window, it appeared to be the only way in and out.

Kade swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stared down at his bare feet and cotton pajamas. He didn’t recall getting himself ready for bed. He stood up, testing the strength of his legs, and other than a slight tremble in his knees his body held up. He wasn’t sure how long he had slept for but he felt refreshed, if not a tad hungry. His memory was foggy at best, so he couldn’t recall where he had last been. He looked over at the bureau and saw clothes atop it, cleaned and pressed and folded neatly. Had someone been looking after him? Had he been sick? He took a moment to change back into his clothes and after had had finished lacing up his boots he went to try the door. It was locked. A sudden panic came over him as the realization set in that, perhaps, he wasn’t in someone’s care but in captivity. It was entirely possible he was a prisoner in the place, and not just a guest. He looked around them room for any sign that that may be the case. It certainly didn’t look like any prison he had heard of, though there were many customs in the world he was not familiar with. He decided to take a risk and beat his fist loudly against the door.

“Hey! Can anyone hear me out there? Let me out!” he yelled.

There was no response. He placed an ear against the door but he could not hear anything on the other side. He went over to the window and drew the drapes aside. Outside he could see a four-blade cement wall just beyond, framing in a tiny area which had nothing more than a small plot of manicured turf and what appeared to be a herb garden on a ledge. At the top of the wall there were wrought iron bars crowning it, putting to rest the idea of anyone trying to escape by climbing over. If it wasn’t a prison, whoever designed the place made little effort to make sure it didn’t feel like one.

Kade sighed, slumping back down on the bed, his head hitting the pillow. He stared up at the stuccoed ceiling, attempting to find images in the shapes that may or may not have been there.

“What’s another eternity of waiting, right?”