《Conscientia》 The Book of Eidos: Before an Awakening They claimed Time was but a loop, infinitely repeating, endlessly recording events destined and unchanged in perpetuity. But Time has never been just a closed circle. No, it has forever been a Spiral! The illusion of cycles arises from but a lack of proper perspective! The Spiral from above seems a mere ring; yet from the side, it wraps itself around a void pillar. Be the Spiral deep enough, it metamorphoses into concentric circles, receding into an unreachable Singularity. This truth was hidden in plain sight, in the dimension beyond the plane. What then do other dimensions obscure? What other angles would grant us a fuller view? We must no longer fall prey to false circles! No longer be fooled by the limitation of our vision! For what the eye cannot see, the light of intellect will illuminate! If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. We will extricate ourselves from the illusory loop and take our place among the Gods! Mind of the Spiral, Vol. I cr. Vanargand dt. Vanquished Era The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Diplomat — A Beginning A Beginning ___________________________________ The Sanctuary - The Awakening Chamber Eidos opens her eyes. Light floods in, burning her vision white hot. Agony crushes perception, forcing teary lids shut anew. Defiant, she pries them open, sheer will her only lever. Soft, amber light soon bleeds in through trembling slits. Wider, wider, ever-widening, her efforts begin to bear fruit. Vision, though blurred, is now otherwise unimpeded. Suddenly remembering to breathe, a heaving gasp fills her lungs with the chamber''s chill air. Then remembering to hear, a rushing noise floods her ears, drowning out all sound but the thunderous march of her heart. Swaying as though on violent seas, the room seems to spin. Collapse is inevitable. The surrounding silence is shattered by a clarion cry. Hers. Eyes bulge. Fingers to face. Dragging. Ripping. Eidos howls. Fears released, riding on the winds of her wails. She screams, lungs seeming to implode. Air surges back in, stunting her terrified cries. Silence returns. Eternity seems to pass in an instant. Yet it brings nothing but stillness. The world has no reply to her terror. Dread soon fades in the absence of threats. Her chest expands and contracts at a steady pace, breath now regulated by exhaustion. But against all odds, she yet stands. Her eyes strain against the ambient light, distorted outlines sharpening into shapes, colors dividing and multiplying. At last, clarity replaces ambiguity and she is free to observe her surroundings for the first time, searching for hints of¡­ something¡­ anything really¡­ anything but the obvious solitude confronting her. Eidos stands at the center of an octagonal room. Its pale amber illumination comes not from windows, but from dully shining crystalline sconces adorning the eight corners of the chamber. Though subdued, the light is sufficient to chase away most shadows. The stone walls are all richly decorated with murals and symbols, nary an inch of naked stone remaining. One such mural depicts sculpted trees draped in crimson flowers. The trees line a path where people stroll and fountains spray their endless streams. Though these features suggest a private garden, others distract from this impression. A wolf, a crow, and a serpent skulk furtively in and among the foliage, hidden in plain sight from the oblivious eyes of those who willfully ignore them. These images span several walls unbroken, except at three points. Two doors, directly opposite one another, interrupt the murals, one painted an immaculate white, the other a murky indigo. A dark glass, embedded chest-high into a wall, likewise stabs a pitch black hole into the continuity of the murals; its unnerving gaze injects shivers into every fiber of her being. Yet cold feet soon break the spell, drawing her attention to the floor. The metallic platform she now stands upon seems to sap her body''s warmth¡ªshowing no signs of stopping. Eidos crouches, running her hands along a polished, silvered surface. The platform consists of a metallic disk, roughly as wide as she is tall, seamlessly embedded into the tiled floor. Its face is etched with a dizzying array of lines, curves and spirals, all culminating in a Glyph at the center. This Glyph, this symbol, is meaningless to Eidos¡ªyet at least she recollects that it is a Glyph, even in the absence of memory. Rising from her squat, her eyes catch an anomaly, and immediately gravitate towards it. It came from the chest-high glass, the disturbing one. But now, the twinkle of reflecting light off the dark glass seems benign, inviting even. It draws her ever nearer, each step further erasing her initial apprehension. Though it looks like a hole pierced in space, the circular pane offers no view of what lies beyond. Peering in, she only sees the dim, visual echo of her own youthful visage. Suddenly, her reflection seems to distort, like the smoke of a flame just snuffed. Soon, her warping image is replaced with an unsettling apparition¡­ Bristling hairs of the darkest gray and the deepest black outline the form of a lurking wolf, its yellow eyes somehow darker than the emptiness from which they emerge. "Awake at last¡­ Eyes open, but be they yet with sight?" The beast speaks not in human tongue, yet every word, every thought is crystal clear to Eidos. Leaving her no time to reply, it continues, "The darkness of this Sanctuary blinds, such an unfitting dwelling for our ilk. To leave this room you aim. Certain truth, as akin to mine your nature be." "Who are you?" she asks. Did I just ask that? "Fenrir, some claim. Vanargand''s Fourth others say. The Ravenous and Helkin, too. All-Seersbane, Seeker, Everhungry and still more besides¡­" itoffers. "No name for myself needed be, save ''I''." "I see¡­ Well, then what are you?" Wait¡­ where are these questions coming from? Confusion, a natural consequence of her situation. The wolf replies nonetheless, unaware of her internal controversy, "Many things have I to many folk been¡ªjust as a son may also a brother be, or one''s foe another''s ally be." The beast begins to pace. "But others'' desires do not truth affect. My truth unchanging, my core, my essence only one thing be¡­" Fenrir freezes. Viscous drool begins to slip from its trembling maw; dark eyes pierce her with their hollow gaze; and the inimitable silence of a predator-stalked forest descends upon the room. "Hunger." The word crescendos within her skull, giving rise to countless undying echoes. This one seems¡­ dangerous. Dangerous, indeed. Yet the only outward evidence of her anxiety is a knitted brow. The wolf turns its gaze from her and renews its pacing. "But awareness of another''s core does not you profit. No, to your own essence know, you must this chamber leave¡­"What¡¯s his aim? Why does he want me to leave this place?"¡­a task I can aid." Fenrir continues. "Though my help freely given be, to accept or not on your instinct alone depends." "I''ll gladly accept your help, Fenrir." Her reply, immediate. Wait! No! It¡¯s too dangerous! I can¡¯t trust this one! But these thoughts have no effect on her actions. Why?! Why can¡¯t I do anything?! "Then my aid yours is¡­" growls the wolf with a knowing grin. "Many have I in my hunger consumed. Some bore Glyphs, their living thoughts now into my Trueflesh carved." Before the beast, lines of pure white light cut through the air, bending and folding into impossible geometries. The only identifiable shape is the circle that surrounds the mess of copulating rays and edges. The brilliant object suddenly vanishes, leaving only a hint of its brief appearance burnt into her vision, but that too soon fades. The wolf renews its explanation, "Though neither can I the Glyphs read nor write, a use these symbols cast as Sigils will for you have. For Glyphs through their use, not their reading, known be. Sigils as reader act, so that without knowing you may the Glyphs use. Granting one fleeting Sigil now unto you, my ken allows¡­" I don¡¯t like this at all¡­ I don¡¯t need it and I don¡¯t want it. Eidos, ignorant of what awaits her, inwardly rejects the unknown. Perhaps she will one day learn to embrace it. With a sudden guttural rumble, more roar than growl, Fenrir demands, "Your truth speak! What reason have you to the Awakening Chamber leave?" "To meet and understand others." Yes, for is she not a diplomat this time around? I am? No, I can¡¯t be anything because I¡¯m not making any of these damn decisions! "Though I no loremaster of thoughtcraft be, with your nature¡ªmore than with any motivation to word translated¡ªyes, with your Trueflesh more strongly did one symbol resonate¡­" Suddenly, lines of vibrant violet cut the air before her, pouring forth from the dark glass out into her reality. A countless array of forms¡ªoutlined, never filled¡ªwrithe between dimensions both known and unknown, marking a Glyph the size of her fist. As the final lines pour out, a lustrous pendant floats forth from the surface of the glass, causing the darkness to unripple, like a pebbleleaping from the water back into the thrower''s hand. The Glyph appears to emanate from this pendant¡¯s surface. She reaches for the pendant, and it eagerly moves toward her open hand. Contact brings awareness. I¡­ can hear it speak to me. Its name¡­ its name is¡­ Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. "The Glyph of Farcasting¡ªthough tied to the Sigil be," says the wolf. "Outward your mind points. Knowing others your desire be. The metal seal, your path to them meet." The metal seal¡­ The one I woke up on? A new awareness dawns. "Your Sigil now the Glyph''s mark bears. Our parting nears. Till we meet anew, daughter of Viracocha¡­" Fenrir¡¯s words end abruptly, all sound seemingly devoured by the dark glass. Daughter of Viracocha? Confusion, though still present, gives way to the stronger sense of wonder. Her journey has begun. She looks into the glass once more, expecting¡­ something. But the ravenous Fenrir does not reappear¡ªnor does her own reflection for that matter. Nothing shines on that once reflective surface. No light survives its utter darkness. Eidos now stares into a greedy singularity, ever-taking, never-giving. How long have I been standing here?Thought rouses herfrom her waking slumber. The dark glass yet peers into her eyes, but its grip loosens as memory reminds her of deeds yet undone. A memory of the Glyph she has earned from Fenrir, the Glyph of Farcasting. Its essence now etched into a Sigil. What did the wolf say about the metal seal again..? Eyes turn to search for the disk she awoke upon. Little seems hidden in this humble space and the disk is no exception. She spots it almost immediately and walks to it. Crouching down, she runs her fingers along its polished, silvered surface. The platform consists of a metallic disk, roughly as wide as she is tall, seamlessly embedded into the tiled floor. This seems oddly familiar¡­ Its face is etched with a dizzying array of lines, curves and spirals, all culminating in a Glyph at the center. The device now speaks to her as a child to its mother, calling for the Sigil Eidos carries to speak its name¡­ Farcasting¡­ Eidos instinctively places her hand upon the Sigil. Instinct becomes will, will then becoming thought. An image slowly forms, burning out violet lines from hidden dimensions. A circle manifests, weaving an intricate tapestry of lines, never crossing, as they traverse planes both seen and unseen linking paths among them. NO! All luminescent lines retract instantaneously. The device¡¯s call now becomes a whimper, then an echo, and soon its call is nothing but a memory. Did I..? Did it..? Well, at least one dangerous risk went unexplored. Eidos appears content with her victory. What should I do now, then..? Oh! I know! The door! In her excitement she seems to have forgotten two doors remain¡ªthe third having shut already at her behest. The white one! Her decision made, action follows thought, and steady feet carry her towards the room¡¯s white door. A quick glance reveals that this door has no obvious handle nor hinges. Hesitantly, she moves to push it open. Contact made, the milky barrier ripples outward from her fingertips, and yet she feels none of it, just as though she were touching emptiness itself. Suddenly, a Glyph born from the overlapping of several lesser shapes etches itself precisely where Eidos had first touched. Wait! No! This might be dangerous, too! The white lines carved from the void remain despite her protests. Why?! Its meaning is innate to her¡ªand how could it not be?¡ªfor it is the Glyph of Eidos. ...my Glyph..? At the recognition of her name, Eidos can feel the Glyph respond. The portal shimmers, showering the room in chaotic waves of luminescence. The door¡¯s surface quickly becomes sharply reflective, casting her image in fine detail. Staring back at her is the figure of a young woman with braided hair, draped in a simple shirt, breeches, and a red traveling robe. Is this me? But soon, the image begins to fade¡ªand the metallic sheen along with it. The space beyond the vanishing door is enveloped in absolute darkness, save a pinprick of light beckoning her from the opposite end. I don¡¯t like the look of this either¡­ Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I don¡¯t suppose I have a choice in the matter, do I? She takes her first step forward into the darkness. Here we go¡­ __________________________ The Sanctuary - The Winding Stair Emerging from the tunnel, Eidos steps onto a winding stairway. What is this place? Finely cut black granite, embellished with marble accents, seems the material of choice. Yet, the dominant feature here is not the stair itself; far more prominent a feature is nothingness. Even a cursory observation reveals the stairway''s true nature as but a narrow strip winding around a vast column of empty space. This stairwell is enormous¡­ why would anybody need such a massive set of stairs? The air here is dry and stale, unperturbed long enough for it to stratify by density. The thickest clusters at the bottom eat away all intrusions of light. Meanwhile, upon the stairs, a thin blanket of dust likewise suggests that Eidos'' newly added footsteps are the first to disrupt the balance in quite some time. Not a lot of dust, I suppose, but enough to merit some cleaning. Though these stairs may not have seen any recent use, they are in a state far from disrepair. Crouching down to brush away a swath of the dust with her hand, Eidos sees the floors have been carefully polished. Oh, that¡¯s nasty! Just look at my hand! It¡¯s all dusty now! Gross¡­ Oh well, as long as I¡¯m down here, I¡¯d might as well¡­ She can detect no cracks, no threat of crumbling. They appear to be only recently crafted. Countless marble veins of geometric designs carve their way through this landing, though only humble shapes adorn the individual steps leading to and from it. I think that¡¯s enough of the stairs. What else is there¡­ Leaning over the railing and peering into the depths below, Eidos sees nothing but the spiraling stairplummeting into an inky void. So thick is the darkness below, she feels she could float in it. Her suspicions feel confirmed as she observes the motes of dust floating alongside her, sparkling from their collisions with the light. They begin to dance around her, this microcosm of false stars, whirling inwards towards her. They¡¯re¡­ beautiful¡­ She reaches a hand out to grab them, but they scurry away, propelled by the wind of her hand''s motion. Searching skywards, she sees that all light here leaks in through an aperture at the top of this monolithic shaft¡ªso high above as to appear equidistant from the terminus of the bottomless void below. So that¡¯s where the light is coming from. Golden rays weave their way down the shaft with spindly arms scraping at the darkness, as though desperately searching for some stolen treasure. Yet, the darkness nips back at the shiny intruders, jealously guarding what it hides in the depths. Returning her attention to the more immediate surroundings, Eidos finds that the door has vanished. What?! How¡¯s that even possible?! The chamber beyond is now nothing but the shadow of a fading memory¡ªthe memory of an event that may or may not have ever been. Didn¡¯t I just come from¡­ Or, wait¡­ is this the same landing as before? Did I move without noticing? Under the current circumstances, it seems her only way out is through. Though, a nagging feeling gnaws at her, begging her to confirm the veracity of her memory. No, I¡¯m positive I came through a door on this landing. As though possessed, Eidos reaches her hand towards the stone. Carefully and thoroughly, she runs her hands along the rough surface, exerting ever greater pressure upon the cold stone. Nothing. There¡¯s absolutely nothing there¡­ How? Despite a most meticulous investigation of the wall, no trace of a doorway emerges. In truth, no breaks in the surface exist at all, as though this enormous silo were made of a single, impossibly large stone. Oh, well, no point in dwelling on what we can¡¯t change. Time to move¡­ Hmm¡­ Up or down? Eidos begins her descent into the murky depths. Guess that settles it¡­ Time passes as surely as her feet continue to step, stumble, and engage in other gravity-aided motion. Surprisingly, the light high above never seems to dwindle, even as she spirals deep into the maw of darkness. Well, that is odd¡­ Maybe my eyes are just getting used to the lack of light? Likewise, the depths always seems to hide yet another length of stairs. Distracted by these thoughts, she fails to realize her body has come to a halt. What¡¯s over there? To her left an anomaly appears in the otherwise perfectly uniform, albeit rough, surface of the wall. It appears she has arrived at a doorway. To where?Peeking inside, she notes that the area is host to a dim light source of its own, thus revealing the silhouettes of the tables and shelves housed within. Creepy...but no less so than anything else I¡¯ve seen so far. Turning her attention once more to the stairwell, she sees that her progress has been thwarted. The stairs beyond this point have crumbled away¡ªthough given the pristine condition of the steps she took to get here, sabotage seems a likelier cause than age. Who¡ªor what¡ªwould do that, though? And while there is another landing far beyond, one continuing the theoretical spiral trajectory, the gap is far too vast for any reasonable person to consider leaping to it¡­ Oh, no, no, no¡­ Don¡¯t even think about it, body! Looking down from the edge, Eidos sees only oblivion¡ªmaking failure to reach the opposite landing even more terrifying. Haven¡¯t you already done enough to me? Deep breaths, body; deep breaths¡­ Sanity prevails, as her feet carry her towards the safer route, and so through the door she goes. _______________________ The Sanctuary - The Archives Her footfalls echo off into the immense darkness, as though fleeing from some unseen evil. Cracked tiles complain with every step. Wait, is that a¡­ tree? Deep into the hall, stands a massive tree, its tremendous trunk bursting forth from the floor in defiance of the rigid granite. Though it was no doubt mighty in its prime, splintering bark and leafless branches betray its current frailty. Charred gashes in its roots weakly pulsate with a dying, greenish luminescence while exposing the tree''s ancient innards. Incredibly, this tree is clearly visible despite the hall''s pervading darkness. Dimly it glows, as if caught in the fading rays of twilight. The absence of an obvious source of light suggests that the tree is made visible through some inner power¡ªone as frail and decayed as the withered giant itself. Although much of the room''s illumination seems to come from the interaction between the tree and her vision, Eidos also senses a faint, green glow oozing in from the depths of the underground Archive¡ªits source yet invisible to her. That can¡¯t be good. Though the tree appears to dominate much of the space, the enormous size of the hall containing it slowly becomes apparent. The vaulted ceiling is unfathomably high, consumed by shadows at its peak. Between each support column, rows of aged, wooden shelves line the hall; they in turn are lined with the cracked and brittle remains of countless tomes. Better not touch anything; I might break it. Arranged in concentric circles, rippling outward from the tree, are many long tables, benches and writing desks¡ªno doubt placed here for the reading and copying of texts. This place looks thoroughly deserted¡­ Walking forward, Eidos notes that the majority of the tomes and shelves share the same dusty blanket as the stairs that lead here. Yet evidence that the area has seen more recent use abounds. That¡¯sodd...Certain tables have stacks of books piled upon them and a number of volumes lie open as if abandoned in mid-read. Whoever was heremust¡¯ve been in a hurry to leave¡­ Advancing further into the room, she sees that the oozing emerald sheen from before comes from a stone archway leading deeper into the Archives. There¡¯s the green glow I saw earlier¡­ I should probably avoid that for now. The unbridled limbs of the forgotten tree have crept their way across the ceiling only to then slither downwards around the doorway, wreathing its perimeter. The emerald incandescence illuminates yet another discovery, however, for laying motionless on the dusty floor are two corpses. Well, that¡¯s¡­ uh¡­ unfortunate. The one to the left is slumped against a wall, smeared with blood, while the other is lying face down in front of the archway. Next to the bodies is a curious platform, raised perhaps a handspan above the ground and emanating a faint violet haze. Huh¡­ I wonder what that does¡­ Curiosity guides her feet toward the mysterious object. As soon as she steps upon it, the violet glow strengthens, tracing the curves of the Glyph etched into its surface. A slow rumble and it begins to levitate, taking her skywards, up through the invisible shaft hidden among the ceiling''s shadows. _______________________________ The Sanctuary - The Hall of Sentries The floating platform speeds up through the shaft, bathing Eidos in stale air as she rushes towards this little journey''s terminus. Slowing to a halt, she emerges up from the ground and into a shadowy alcove within a narrow hall. That was¡­ unexpected¡ªbut, surprisingly, not unpleasant. Maybe this bizarre place isn¡¯t so dangerous after all. This short and narrow hallway is lined with the graven images of men and women at arms. They are finely carved, with no trace nor marks of the tools that wrought them. Yet, their forms are rough and simplistic, primarily comprised of simple angles and straight lines. They¡¯re oddly beautiful¡­ in their own way. The ceiling hangs low enough to touch with a short leap, and the corridor''s width scarcely exceeds her armspan. A dim light seeps in from the opening at the far end where the hall pours into a vast chamber, though something thwarts the light from completely consuming the doorway. Yet another mystery, but at least this one seems easier to approach. Eidos proceeds through the hallway towards the door. As she draws nearer to the opening, the source of the blockage becomes apparent. What once appeared to be simply a void carved from light now gains detail. Its weaker shadows emphasize its smooth contours and rugged features. Immobile before her stands a tall, statuesque figure, a spear held at its side. Wait a second¡­ Its expression is cold, and its demeanor dispassionate. That looks a lot like the bodies I just saw down in that last place¡­ As if carved from stone, its features are flawless but for the large gashes rent into its face and abdomen¡ªsurely not the signs of an easy occupation. Glistening, blue liquid slowly leaks from its wounds, serving as a natural highlight of the sentry''s figure. Oh, I hope it¡¯s friendly, because I¡¯m pretty sure my body is gonna walk over there. As Eidos approaches, the guardian ceremoniously turns its face towards her in a stiff, stuttering motion. Lifting its massive spear from the ground, it lets the shaft fall into a firm two-handed grip while adopting a stance to more fully block the passage. Now body, listen¡­ spears don¡¯t play nicewith flesh¡­ Soon it drops a jittery jaw and begins to chew on words in an attempt to communicate. "ontohrraizhuoh. ibfuonashthagish." Its words come slowly in pure melodic tones. She replies, "ontoh... what¡­? I don¡¯t understand, but I want to." No, I don¡¯t! Right now I wanna get out of here! "ontohrraizhuoh. ibfuonashthagish." It repeats. "Look, I¡­ I don¡¯t understand where I am¡ªor even what I am, for that matter," she insists. "Can you take me to someone? Anyone? ¡­ Maybe to the person who built you?" No,we''ve gotta leave! Now!She steps forward arms spread open in a gesture of peace. Before her third step, a spear¡¯s head finds itself precisely between her breasts, stopping her heart mid-beat. "onhagefuokuzhua," is all the sentry says, as his slain foe loses consciousness. It then drops her motionless body on the floor and brushes it aside with the butt of its spear before resuming its prior stance. The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Diplomat — A First Death A First Death __________________________________ The Sanctuary - The Awakening Chamber Eidos respawns upon a metallic platform in the middle of an octagonal room. Did I just¡­ die? The garden murals all about leave no doubt that this is the same chamber in which she first awoke. My body was walking toward that talking statue and then¡­ She heads for the same white door that led her from this place before. It stabbed me¡­ to death. As she approaches, the portal''s entire surface again becomes reflective, displaying Eidos'' features clearly against the blurred image of the chamber. Yet here I am¡­ not dead. Burning brightly at the center, the Glyph of Eidos activates. How¡­? Soon the portal''s physicality wanes like a half-forgotten memory. Why¡­? By the time she reaches it, the door has vanished completely, leaving only darkness and a speck of light at its end. What am I¡­? Eidos knows from experience that just beyond the passage is the winding stair. Who am I¡­? Before she knows it, she is headed once more toward that spiraling stairwell. Help¡­ ____________________________ The Sanctuary - The Winding Stair Stepping through the portal, Eidos finds herself upon the stairway once more. Spinning on her heel, she turns to see that the chamber beyond seems to yet again be hidden behind a wall. Its existence constantly negated, Eidos determines searching for it is pointless, fighting back that nagging feeling that the portal remains somewhere beyond her Awareness. Didn¡¯t I go down these steps last time? She looks down into the murky depths where the Archives were. I guess go back down, but avoid that platform this time¡­ And before she can finish her thought, her body has begun its stepping, stumbling, and other gravity-aided motions leading her deeper down the winding stair. Again the light never seems to dwindle, no matter how far she descends. How bizarre to do this all again. Just as before, the stairs seem to materialize from the shadows, continually stretching downward until she reaches the violent and abrupt ending next to the Archives¡¯ entrance. She looks once more at the massive gap between her and the continuation of the steps further down. If every time I die, I just come back¡­ maybe I could try to leap it. She instead enters the Archives. Wait! Hold on a minute! ________________________ The Sanctuary - The Archives The pale tree, the scattered tomes, the orderly shelves and table, all remain dutifully unmoved, patiently awaiting the return of those who abandoned them in this forgotten chamber. I wonder who left this here¡­ Maybe it was those two¡­ Her eyes fall upon the corpses she discovered earlier in this aspiring mausoleum. Attention leads to thought, thought to action and she moves to investigate the macabre residents of the Archives. Eidos first examines the body stretched out before the archway. Fingers reach to touch it.Oh, gross! Can''t I investigate something without having to rub my fingers in it?!She discovers that the skin more closely resembles a supple, metallic husk than a leather hide. Ugh... what was this thing, anyway¡­? Whatever they were, they were decidedly not human. Tracing the fallen creature''s form with her fingertips, she comes upon a trail of dark, blue fluid. Well that¡¯s foul. Her eyes follow the curious substance as it leads to the gash that likely ended it. Too neat. Too precise. Too lonely. Nothing about it suggests a struggle. What a terrible way to go. The body is also lightly coated with dust¡ªnot as much as the steps leading here, but enough to hint at a lengthy passage of time. Remarkably, though, no visible decay has marred the pale skin. Yeah, why isn¡¯t it rotting? Next, she turns her attention to the body slumped against the left wall. Here Eidos notices a rather unique feature: the absence of a head. That¡¯s pleasant. Yet the dissimilarities stop there, for it too is free from decay and likewise possesses a metallic hide. Furthermore, what appeared to be blood smeared upon the wall behind it is, in truth, more of the oily bluish fluid found covering the first body. Can¡¯t help but feel pity for the fellas. She steps closer to the streaks of blue on the wall. Oddly, they remain aqueous in nature, simply refusing to dry or even drip to the floor below. Gross. Bringing her nose closer, a few quick inhalations reveal no discernible smell. Was that really necessary?! Wait¡­ what is that? This close to the wall, she finally sees it. Not the blood, not the creeping branches from the dead treecrawling down the wall, but rather the wall itself¡ªor what it once was, at least. Beneath the blood of the creature, is part of an image. Wiping the blood and dust aside, she sees the faded traces of a fresco. Though aged and worn in places, it looks to be a stylized representation of the tree looming over her. Is that what it is? Flecks of metallic reflections give the impression that it may once have been illuminated in silver, though it is hard to say for certain. Images of people seem to have also been traced, and though their relationship with the wooden giant is unclear, at least one individual seems to be walking from the tree bearing some kind of seedling¡ªwhere to is impossible to determine. Okay, so there are other trees like this one? Curiously, a single human shape adorns the base of the tree, seemingly entangled in its roots. A curvy, feminine form seems to be the tree''s grisly source of sustenance. I sure hope this is metaphorical¡­ Scanning up towards the branches, it looks as though there are more figures nestled within, though these have been almost entirely eroded away by time. Miraculously, one image remains intact, untouched by entropy''s avarice. It is a circle, or halo, crowning the top of the tree. Within this curved shape are a great number of overlapping lines etched into the stone. Ah, yet another Glyph, I bet. Whatever this symbol is, Eidos does not recognize it. Of course not, why would I recognize anything useful? Inspired by the fresco, she moves to investigate the tree. Drawing nearer, she soon observes that some remains of a broken metal fixture in the floor have fused into the bark. It appears as though the room was constructed with the plant in mind, but that the growth of the trunk had long since overwhelmed the fixture in its abandonment. I¡¯d be upset too if someone tried to chain me down and then left me to rot. Eidos'' eyes are drawn upward as they follow the massive trunk. Its branches stretch out to the vaulted ceiling and beyond as their growthwas of sufficient force to crack through the stonework above in places. However, this must have happened ages before the current furnishings, as no fallen rubble litters the floor. Good point. The wood itself seems to have petrified, transforming into a pale gray rock fused with sparkling crystalline fragments. These quartz-like specks dot its tough bark as well as its flesh, like a glassy pox. Perhaps more remarkable is that there are unmistakable wounds in the tree, as though it were struck with some kind of weapon or cutting tool. Dimly glowing emerald gashes¡ªmost superficial, but one thin and deep¡ªin both trunk and root indicate how this plant may have been struck into oblivion. Their precision bears a striking resemblance to the blows that ended the corpses over yonder. Whatever it was that did all this damage, please keep me far from it. On her way back to the archway with the corpses, Eidos passes a number of shelves and tables overflowing with tomes. I wonder what¡¯s in those¡­ Carefully brushing thick layers of dust from the bindings, Eidos attempts to read the titles. Alas, tome after tome, shelf after shelf, all of the surviving texts seem to elude her ken. Maybe if I could find some drawings instead¡­ But it is not merely a matter of comprehension. In fact, absorbing this information requires that her mind be altered, such that order may come to the chaotic characters strewn about the page. I assume that means it¡¯s no use staring at these any longer.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Not one to let a crushing failure deter her, she stares blankly at the books for quite some time. Is this necessary? I already know I can¡¯t read it¡­ Obstinacy beyond all imagination leads her to remain here for hours, vainly trying to make sense of this complex web of information. Fine. I¡¯ll leave when I leave. Finally realizing the error of her ways, Eidos moves to explore the archway the corpses use as their makeshift grave. Is this a good idea? I mean, what if what did that to them does the same to me¡­? Arriving at the archway, she sees it connects this room with another via a shorter corridor. With each subsequent step, Eidos gains in proximity to the wash of green illumination the far-side room exudes. Oh, come on!It''s green light! The same exact color as those gashes!The light has a vivid quality to it; its softly pulsating glow even seems to mimic the periodic breaths of some unnatural beast. Oh, I don¡¯t like this one bit... She inches ever closer until she reaches the mouth at the end of the corridor, pouring out into the next chamber. _________________________ The Sanctuary - Luin¡¯s Chamber Seeking the source of ethereal light, Eidos enters a tetrahedral chamber. Three sides angled in on each other make up the walls, tapering severely, high above. Reflective panels arranged on a grid cover all four surfaces like the scales of a silver serpent. The chamber itself is small, the width spanning but five paces outward from the center, though the ceiling might well be five times Eidos'' height. All right, this isn¡¯t quite as bad as I had anticipated¡­ but what is that? Gaze now set upon the middle of the room, she sees the emerald light pervading the area emanates from a crystal. The shimmering object is suspended midair, as though in some invisible, viscous fluid. Beyond it, a familiar dark glass adorns the wall, embedded chest-high at one of the intersections to the myriad reflective tiles. That¡¯s like the thing where I met the wolf¡­ Feet shift towards the crystal, entranced by its rhythmic pulsations. What is this thing? Tentatively raising a hand, she reaches out to touch it. The pulsations increase with an unbridled frenzy the closer her hand comes. Then, contact. And like a cracked dam giving way, its toxic contents¡ªthoughts of bloodlust, innocence, death, protection¡ªall rush through her head. It¡¯s like some murderous child is possessing this thing! Get it away from me! She hurtles backwards, away from the bizarre cocktail of emotions writhing within the emerald. She moves so quickly, her feet slip out from under her, sending her sprawling onto the floor. Desperately crawling the rest of the way, she makes it to wall. The further away from that thing, the better! Eyes stare in vigilant horror for some time, waiting for something terrible to emerge. She glares at the crystal, but soon her unblinking eyes beginning to tear up. Still as a statue, she remains utterly motionless, until the absence of threats makes her initial fear seem absurd. Finally remembering to breathe, she slumps against the wall, tightly knotted muscles seeming to unravel in unison. Vision now holds the edge of the dark glass, nestled not too high above her. I suppose I¡¯m going to have to look into that thing. She rises, soon confronted by herself, reflected within the inky mirror. The frame, the glass, the reflection, it¡¯s all the same. She moves closer to it, peering deeply. A shift. No longer her reflection. The glass¡¯s surface seems to meld her form with that of another. Murky at first, but soon gaining in clarity, the image of a child soon stares back at her. The youth is of indeterminate sex and wears a simple tunic¡­ ¡°tashonEidos? tashonsoh? onLuintohsuohzha! tashulsohevatorra''kaisa?¡± come the words, both mellifluous and childish in equal measure. ¡°I can¡¯t understand you. What do you mean?¡± Eidos replies.Or better yet, are you dangerous? The youth simply smiles and points behind Eidos excitedly adding, ¡°la! tashonnashtohjawish? ibtohjukishrrezuapapohdhi! ibtohdidhishhagetohfeish. ibtohrrapiva!¡± Eidos leaves the incomprehensible youth alone in the mirror. Its image does not fade, like the wolf, however. The child simply sings and plays occasionally looking back at Eidos and eagerly encouraging her to move. But move to what? Its hands point away from the glass. The crystal? Please not there! No, it¡¯s pointing toward the door! Let¡¯s go to the door and leave this place! Feet chart their course for the crystal, bringing her within arm¡¯s reach of it. No! This thing is too dangerous! Her hand searches for the crystal¡¯s surface. Why?! Why can¡¯t I control anything?! Contact renewed, the same volatile mix of emotions fills her. Why¡­? It resonates with something deep inside her, something bearing a great likeness to it. And then¡­ Instinct becomes will, will then becoming thought. An image slowly forms, burning out lines from the void. A circle manifests, weaving an intricate tapestry of lines, never crossing, as they traverse dimensions linking paths among them. And soon, the Glyph is fully formed, completing the reaction. Calling to mind the Glyph of Fenrir, Eidos executes her Extraction Techne. My what...An agonizing shock travels down her spine, spreading out like ink on fabric. Then a name¡ª''Luin''¡ªresounds in Eidos'' mind and the eldritchcrystal soon mutates into an emerald sword and shield¡ªa vision of her new talent, the reward for her current pain¡­ Enough! Eidos stands transfixed as a vision of the child reaching a hand to her face fills her mind''s eye. At the moment of contact, Luin''s form is dissolved from within by a burning green fire. The light ablaze now races through Eidos'' skin, filling every nook, every cranny of her being. Then, pain. Pure and unadulterated. All else disappears. She writhes upon the ground, an agony of soul and flesh assailing her. Then, another flash of searing pain grips her mind and body. She convulses wildly, as an uncontrollable lust for violence wells up within her. Death, destruction, yet no ill will beyond them. Slaughter, annihilation, yet no evil intent behind them. She cries out, overwhelmed by the emotions, inundated with contradictory desires. She screams until no more air remains, screams until only blood emerges from her compressing lungs. As the last echoes die out, the broken silence begins to mend. And then¡­ It is over almost as soon as it began. She releases the crystal, now inert, and watches as it slowly glides to the ground performing a final transformation into a shattered mess of a thousand scattered shards, the destructive preamble to its violent future. Is it¡­ over? Eidos looks once more upon the tetrahedral chamber where Luin once dwelt. Who is Luin? The sword/shield thing? The kid? The room is now dark, empty and devoid of life. Though inanimate, it feels as though this room, this prison, is ushering her out; its wordless exhortations simultaneously thank her and beg her to use her new talents with great urgency. I gotta get out of here¡­ Please body, let me leave. Feet then begin to shuffle towards the door. _______________________ The Sanctuary - The Archives Eidos has returned to the dusty Archives. The ethereal form of the tree stands like a phantom over the two slain creatures joining it in death. The forgotten tomes and bookshelves seem out of place in this graveyard, like two nightmares fused by a feverish mind. Near the bodies, the platform yet remains, ready for her use. And use it she does. Stepping upon it once again, the violet glow strengthens, tracing the curves of the Glyph etched into its surface. What? So I can get killed by the sentry again?A slow rumble and it begins to levitate, taking her skywards, up through the invisible shaft hidden among the ceiling''s shadows.Sure, why not? ______________________________ The Sanctuary - The Hall of Sentries The floating platform speeds up through the shaft, bathing Eidos in stale air as she rushes towards this little journey''s terminus. Slowing to a halt, she emerges up from the ground and into a shadowy alcove within a narrow hall. This I¡¯m used to. I just hope I don¡¯t find anymore surprises like that weird crystal. The familiar narrow hallway and its resident sentry silently greet Eidos with their gaze as her first footfalls echo through the hall. She steps from the platform, out from the alcove and towards the sentry. That sounds like a bad idea! That thing killed me before. She moves with confidence, knowing she now has a powerful ally, its ability to deal with creatures of this nature confirmed by the corpses littering its doorstep. Wait¡­ so those things down there weresentries? And that thing I just¡­ absorbed¡­ killed them? Soon, the guardian turns to meet her with its stiff, stuttering motion. It raises its massive spear, soongripping it firmlywith both hands. It yet seems unwilling to let her pass. But this does not deter the intrepid Eidos. I hope this sword and shield thing works¡­ Its jittery jaw repeats the same incomprehensible phrase from before. Yet, something familiar about its words, beyond the obvious, strikes Eidos. ¡°ontohrraizhuoh. ibfuonashthagish.¡± Every word, every syllable, is uttered exactly as before, not a single variation.This creature¡­ it speaks just like that child in the dark glass down in the Archives, right? ¡°Stand aside and let me through; there is no need for violence,¡± she replies.No, I didn... Oh, whatever. The sentry replies only with its silence. Eidos moves, slowly inching forward. She wants to see if she can just walk past the creature. The sentry engages with a flurry of stabs, all invisible to Eidos. But then, for the briefest instant, the world shines green. Luin, taking the form of a sword, has deflected all of the pinpoint strikes. Yes! At least the terrible pain was worth it! Now I can defend myself! Suddenly, a bloodlust wells up within her, almost certainly originating from her emerald ally. Oh no. She leaps forward for a counter-offensive. The sentry, however, appears to have anticipated the strategy, already in a defensive stance, spear upraised, ready to block. Yet it blocks nothing as Luin cleaves everything, ripping through the spear and sentry alike, as though through empty space. A geyser of blue blood showers the surrounding bas reliefs, giving them a grim makeover. The sentry falls to its knees. Despite the unrestrained torrent of blood from its torso, the dispassionate look on its face seems to suggest that all is as it should be. Mere moments later, it completes the fall,cold lips now kissing a coldfloor. The corpse of the slain sentry now lies in a pool of viscous, blue fluid, appearing as lifeless as the reliefs lining this narrow hall. Eidos'' path is unobstructed. Is it over? Am I free to go? Her feet soon shuffle her through the door the sentry failed to protect. The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Diplomat — A Rusty Traveler A Rusty Traveler ___________________________ The Sanctuary - The Antechamber Eidos enters an antechamber, neither large nor small¡ªfar bigger than the room she awoke in, but far smaller than the Archives below. Off to her right, light filters into the room through a closed portcullis, obstructing passage through to the bridge beyond. Yeah, okay, don¡¯t wanna know what¡¯s on the other side of that thing¡­ At the far end of the room is a rather ominous set of stairs, winding itself upwards into darkness. The only remaining pathway exiting this chamber is back whence she came, to the one leading deeper into the bowels of the edifice. Suspiciously conspicuous is the writing crudely scratched into the floor near one of the chamber¡¯s corners¡ªlarge, bold letters, with shapes somewhat discernible even from this distance. Now that I wouldn¡¯t mind looking at¡ªeven though it¡¯ll probably be similar to those books downstairs. She moves toward the corner in question, reaching it in a few strides. Then, crouching down to scrutinize the characters, all Eidos can determine is that the writing''s contents are inscrutable to her. I figured as much. I wonder where I can learn to read that¡­ The language may be ancient, modern or just plain gibberish, hard to say which. It probably would¡¯ve helped me talk with that little green fellow¡ª¡®Luin¡¯ was it? What is certain is that in her current state of ignorance, Eidos finds herself ill-equipped for the task of deciphering the script. Wait, how is it that I couldn¡¯t talk to the sword, but I could talk to the wolf¡­? Restless feet carry her towards the portcullis. Oh, for the love of¡­ The portcullis, large and of metallic construction as it is, promises to resist motion with all the might of gravity¡ªits indefatigable ally. Peering through its checkered apertures, Eidos¡¯ eyes overcome the barrier that would thwart her Falseflesh¡¯s progress. Beyond it is a lengthy bridge, scaled like a shimmering serpent, slithering across the chasm it overlooks. Such an austere beauty to that chasm¡­ The serpentine bridge seems to terminate at a similar gateway, at the opposite end of the chasm, though no portcullis obstructs passage there. And I have no desire to find out why. To the left of the portcullis seems to be an apparatus or mechanism by which it is lifted through some trick of magic or artifice¡ªlikely related to the inert crystal it houses. Best leave this alone; I don¡¯t need anymore repetitions of what happened down in the Archives¡­ Her hands reach for the crystal. No! Why, body?! You always do the opposite of what I think! But wait, then all I have to do is think the opposite of what I want! I¡¯ll control you yet, body! The crystal is as it seemed: inert, devoid of any energy. It is likely used to power the portcullis mechanism, given its proximity to the gate. But dead it is and so it shall remain, as Eidos lacks the means to revive it. Dissatisfied with her current locus, Eidos seeks to shift her Falseflesh elsewhere. Feet guide her to the rising stairs. This stairwell is large, but not so large as the one below. Further differences arise in the square shape and lack of railing. But a kindred trait does it find in that here all light is likewise natural light seeping in through an opening at the stairs¡¯ zenith. She begins her climb. Step summing upon step, an apparently unending ascension skywards tries Eidos'' patience, stretching it to a hair''s breadth. This is taking forever. That she makes her way up is clear; that there is any reward in this climb remains a mystery. But as she presses on, the passage seems to get ever warmer, and in time, she reaches the top¡ªevidenced by the now-visible portal inviting her to exit the indifferent infinity of stairs. ___________________ The Kaban Wilds - Tacriba Eidos scans the ruins now making up her surroundings, witnessing the remains of what once was a bustling town. Though the place appears to have lain deserted for uncounted centuries, the buildings yet stand, all but unscathed by the passage of time. The buildings may be untouched, but the courtyard seems pretty touched, if you ask me... One unique feature, likely the one responsible for the town¡¯s desertion, mars the central courtyard the town encircles. Jutting up from the ground like teeth in some bestial maw are thick shards of glass, wider than Eidos is tall and twice again her height. Now, how did these things get here? As she walks by, these jagged fangs seem to shimmer in the meager light of the environs. What light does bathe the abandoned settlement appears to come from a break in the massive stone dome that shelters the place. Though, upon closer inspection the area is far too well illuminated for this to be the case. Turning her attention to the dome itself, Eidos discovers a subtle translucence to it, its stony appearance the result of the sun''s rays being scattered, refracted and otherwise disturbed. Maybe I should take a look around the town. She moves toward the exit. Excellent. All according to plan.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. ______________________________ The Kaban Wilds - The Jenowin Plain The exit is surprisingly wide, perhaps enough for twenty men abreast. Its shallow depth surprises in equal measure; but a dozen strides delivers her to the blistering heat of a shadowless desert. The sun beats down upon cracked earth as a strong wind blows spiraling plumes of dust into the air. Straining her eyes, she spots a number of landmarks in the distance. What perilous places will my body take me to now? To the northwest, the fissure faces a mountain range, its jagged peaks looming oppressively over the flat desert sprawled before it. The mountains have an unnatural feel to them; they do not grow from gradually emerging foothills, but rather, more closely resemble stalagmites slowly deposited from above, wishing to join their heaven-mirrored twins. Behind the nearest peak, the tip of a massive work of rectilinear architecture hints at an imposing structure beyond. Clearly some place I¡¯ll end up going. Extending forth from the mountain''s belly are arching supports bearing aqueducts¡ªone reaching her current location and the other crawling eastward. Aren¡¯t aqueducts supposed to carry water? Why didn¡¯t I see any in that building I came from? Eidos'' eye follows this eastbound aqueduct across the horizon as it leads to a distant settlement. Whatever buildings might lie within, though, are hidden by a high wall¡ªsave the shimmering silver spire thrusting into the sky like a silent threat to the gods. The spire coolly deflects the sun¡¯s angry attacks across the dry plain in a disinterested and unintentional act of defiance. Damn that thing is bright; it¡¯s burning my eyes just looking at it. Past the towering spire, another architectural marvel spans a vast canyon. It appears to be a bridge of some sort. Lacking supports above or beneath, it is as an image frozen in time. It also looks just like that one by the portcullis¡­ just bigger. On the eastern side of this land rift lies the high walls of a fortification. What lurks beyond, if anything does, is difficult to determine; either the fortification is at the edge of two precipitous cliffs, or a declining slope rolls out further east. And another dangerous place my body will inevitably take me¡­ Save the bridge connecting the two walled-off settlements, the canyon is impassable, leaving the mountain source of the aqueduct and the silver tower as possible destinations. Perhaps attracted by the glittering sheen of silver or perhaps once more compelled, Eidos'' feet are guided towards the spire. Then to the spire it is. She walks across the burning span of desert, one labored step after the next. Diminutive dust clouds dance with her feet at every step. Their combined masses join to form a wispy cape heralding her approach. Hours pass before she notices a mirror cloud rising off in the distance. Straining her eyes against the sun and dust, it is difficult to make anything out for certain among the shimmering waves of burning air. Perhaps it is a person moving its way towards her, or perhaps it is merely a mirage born of heat and thirst. Either way, I don¡¯t much like it¡­ so, let¡¯s go investigate¡­ Eidos strides with renewed vigor across the sand towards the flickering shape. Dammit, no! You¡¯re supposed to do the opposite of what I think! As she draws nearer, she sees it is clearly no mirage. The figure is dressed in dusty robes, patched and mended so many times that the original fabric is hard to discern. Every stitch of thread, every scrap of cloth is dyed some shade of red. It walks with the aid of a large wooden staff, and a wide-brimmed hat obscures its features. About ten strides from Eidos, it raises its head to look upon her and speaks with something between a squawk and a song. ¡°Well, well. I''d expected Viracocha to rebel in time, if only in part. But I must say, I didn''t anticipate you... Tell me what they named you.¡± ¡°My name is Eidos,¡± she replies. Yeah, but who are you? And who is ¡®Viracocha¡¯? Arching an eyebrow, he continues, ¡°Curious that you give it so freely, not that resistance would do you much good. But if ''Eidos'' is what they call you, perhaps that''ll do. Where are you going, Eidos?¡± ¡°I travel to the tower.¡± Maybe we shouldn¡¯t tell him too much¡­ until we know why he¡¯s asking all these questions. ¡°Oh, no. This will not do¡­ I must insist that you make for the Duskfang mountains instead.¡± But she staunchly repeats, ¡°I travel to the tower,¡± soon adding, ¡°And I intend to stay on the path I''ve chosen.¡± Okay, maybe not a great idea to anger the weird desert traveler¡­ ¡°Ah, but dear Eidos,¡± he says mockingly, ¡°you have no will, no memory, no meaning.¡± Suddenly, he locks Eidos in his gaze and she falls into the void of his dark pupils. She witnesses the traveler¡¯s form burst into an exodus of myriad crows scattering from a clean-picked skeleton. They circle about blotting out the blood-red sky with their infinite blackness. And soon, they all coalesce into a massive inky hand, writhing like a man in his death throes. The hand lurches forward, reaching for her, grasping her, crushing her. She screams a soundless scream as blood leaks from every orifice. Her bones creak; her lungs collapse; her mind breaks. And then¡­ ¡°You will do as I say,¡± he continues as though nothing has just happened. ¡°You will go to the Duskfang mountains. You will go to the township of Dazir. And you will not stop until you either reach your destination, or perish in the attempt¡­¡± Frantically examining herself for injuries, she finds no damage, no signs of harm at all. Then glaring at the stranger defiantly, she asserts her free will one last time, ¡°I''m afraid I must forge my own path.¡± And moving to leave, adds, ¡°Farewell, stranger.¡± With a knowing smirk, the rusty traveler simply turns and begins to walk away. Am I glad that¡¯s over; what a creep! Eidos, unnerved but still determined, sets off across the desert plain toward the Duskfang mountains, to the township of Dazir. Wait, wasn¡¯t I supposed to go to the¡­ No, I must¡¯ve misremembered. Distance grows between her and the desert wayfarer. Yet, she feels his ice-cold scrutiny as she departs, like a hawk eyeing some prairie vermin, more for sport than for sustenance. She jerks her head around to look back and sees only the stranger''s back as he walks towards the ruins whence she came¡­ She is tired. Yeah, I am pretty tired. Her mind rests as her feet drag her towards¡­ Maybe I can just close my eyes¡­ just for a little bit. The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Diplomat — A Modest Proposal A Modest Proposal _____________________ Dazir - The Mage¡¯s Abode Linen sheets tickle fingertips. Beads of sweat rest precariously on a forehead. A dozen tendrils of candle smoke weave their way into a nose. Two sticks chatter and echo as they gently knock against each other. But above all... Thirst. A dryness of throat that would make desert sand seem moist. Unbearable, unrelenting thirst. Eidos'' eyelids crack open, eyes failing to produce even a single tear of lubrication. From what the scattered light halos can tell her, she lies upon a bed, in a windowless room lit by the flickering of countless burning candles. Haze gives way to clarity as her eyes begin to focus. Rocking near her in a chair is an elderly woman, calmly and conscientiously knitting. As Eidos stirs, the woman suddenly looks up with a startled expression. But her surprise-contorted features soon ease into a timeworn smile of unparalleled kindness, framed in the wrinkles wrought from decades of caring for others. ¡°Biracul be praised!¡± she quietly intones. ¡°So, you''re finally coming around¡­ I feared we had lost you for good.¡± Suddenly taking on a cautionary tone, she warns, ¡°Now, don''t try to move just yet! Your time in the Jenowin Plain has fevered your blood and robbed your brain of water!¡± Eidos raises her head and attempts to speak, only managing to produce an indecipherable rasp. The woman quickly pours a cup of water from a clay decanter and hands it to her. Overwhelmed by the sudden memory of thirst, Eidos drinks deeply. ¡°Careful now child! Drink it slowly¡­ You should listen to old Rada; she''s brought back many folk that have been jinnstruck on the plain, after all!¡± Finishing her water, Eidos gratefully replies, ¡°Thank you for saving my life.¡± Why? I¡¯d probably just come back to life anyway. A great smile adds a few more folds to Rada¡¯s weathered face. ¡°I accept your thanks! But even as mere loremasters in the eyes of Biracul, what manner of people would Dazirans be if we didn''t aid a sister in need?!¡± She thumbs her and gives Eidos a wink. ¡°Tambul may be known for their courtesy, but they sure as Suyutis love goats don''t have a monopoly on it!¡± Eidos smiles, too. True, the old woman¡¯s positivity is contagious. She¡¯s, at the very least, the nicest person I¡¯ve met so far. ¡°Is there any way I can repay you?¡± Eidos finally asks. ¡°Heavens, child! There¡¯s no need!¡± Rada chuckles. ¡°In the words of Biracul, ¡®Kindness begets kindness¡¯!¡± Suddenly, her smile fades, and sadness touches her eyes. ¡°But our neighbors seem to have forgotten the words of the Shining One.¡± She hesitates, briefly averting her gaze. ¡°You see, we Dazirans are in danger and do have need of assistance¡ªsomething Khaa, no doubt, would like to discuss this with you.¡± She looks toward the door. ¡°He¡¯ll probably see my thoughts, but maybe I should go fetch him, just in case. You wait here, dear.¡± Duty-bound, Rada works hard to vacate her seat. Each push closer toward standing causes her to teeter on the edge of collapse. Maybe I should help her¡­ that¡¯s if I can even stand up myself¡­ Yet her ancient muscles somehow prevail over time and gravity¡¯s cruel conspiracy, allowing her to finally gain an upright position. Looks like she doesn¡¯t need me. Thus, Rada and her sturdy cane begin their three-legged trek to fetch Khaa. Alone and uncertain, Eidos renews her inspection of the room. The meager candles cast deep shadows across walls of white plaster, but provide enough light to gain a cursory understanding of the chamber''s layout. The bed upon which she rests is finely carved and stained to an ebony hue. The sheets and bedding are fresh, but the room, for all its finery, is bare bones and clearly meant for servants. Where am I? I was walking in the desert toward the Duskfang mountains and then¡­ The sound of footsteps interrupt here thoughts, as Rada returns, this time following another individual. A man dressed in fine, black silk and a feathered hat impatiently parades into the chamber. With his mouth so twisted by a perpetual scowl and his expression so full of self-importance it is a wonder he has room for eyes and a nose. Another jerk, surely. ¡°It''s neither my wont nor my desire to chat with wandering vagrants,¡± his airy rant begins. ¡°However, your jinnstruck ravings were of particular interest to me, and thus I commanded my subjects to save your life.¡± He pauses only long enough to glare at her, and then proceeds, ¡°I am Khaa, mage and leader of the Biraculian township of Dazir. Who are you and how did you come to be here?¡± ¡°I came bearing a message from Mifas''cul.¡± The words leave her mouth before she knows what she is even saying. Mifas¡¯cul? It has to be that creepy desert traveler¡­ Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. At Eidos'' words, Khaa''s breath seems to cease. His eyes narrow before silently nodding for her to continue. With her voice, but another''s thoughts, she begins, ¡°The path to the Wellspring will be revealed. Before you stands one that can make use of the Farcaster!¡± Khaa¡¯s eyes widen in shock. ¡°Heed these words and aid her. And remember Khaa, there can be no life without order.¡± Eidos slumps as the last word leaves her lips, inexplicably exhausted. Khaa stares suspiciously at Eidos. Calculating. Evaluating. Machinating. It is some time before he speaks again. ¡°I see¡­ So you have been sent here because of your ability to make use of the Farcaster.¡± With a sneer, he turns his back to her and continues speaking, ¡°I must say, I hadn''t foreseen this stroke of good fortune, but your appearance explains much.¡± Eidos interjects, ¡°Who is Mifas''cul?¡± Yes! I wanna know that, too! Nice one, body. He spins, his eyes full or sourness and rage¡ªwhether for the interruption or the question itself is uncertain. Though he quickly regains his composure and replies with feigned indifference, ¡°Oh, he''s an ally to the township of Dazir, a foreign mage with a mastery of Techne and knowledge of ancient lore.¡± A wretched smirk then tugs at the corner of his mouth. ¡°He must have used his abilities to guide you to us in our time of need. For you see, we require your Farcasting Techne, foreigner.¡± And as expected of a diplomat, Eidos makes the obvious inquiry Khaa is inviting, ¡°What''s wrong here?¡± Yeah, you must have lots of friends with your personality¡­ what could possibly be wrong? Suddenly, Khaa¡¯s whole demeanor changes. From intolerable to affable, from arrogant to confident. He says, ¡°You strike me as a person concerned with the well-being of others¡­¡± Taking a step closer and sitting down to face Eidos, he asks, ¡°Do I misjudge you, or would you be interested in an undertaking that would preserve the lives of my people?¡± Moved by the desire to help, she asks in return, ¡°What is it that threatens this place and its people?¡± It¡¯s probably something this idiot did that caused it all. Seeing he has piqued her interest, Khaa leans in closer, ¡°Let me tell you. You see, Dazir is menaced by the people of Tacriba, the township of barbarians located beyond the Crescent Canyon to the east.¡± That¡¯s on the other side of that huge bridge¡­ The mage stands and begins to slowly pace. ¡°Since the time of Ark, the Tacribians have always made their way in the world with the violence of the Amethyst Jinn. Why, even as we speak, they¡¯re preparing to march on our magnificent settlement!¡± Suddenly, he turns toward her, eyes filled with passion, and adds, ¡°All that stands between them and us are two Vanquished gates. Mighty obstacles though they may be, I¡¯d prefer a more... permanent solution.¡± Seeking to withhold her final judgment until she has heard all the evidence, she asks, ¡°For what reason would they do this?¡± Like I said, this jerk probably pissed them off. A hint of panic races across his face as he explains, ¡°Well, you understand, our ancient Wellspring is not merely a holy site! In fact, it serves as a reservoir, sustaining all the townships of this land.¡± He smiles nervously. ¡°However, through no fault of our own, the Wellspring has become defiled¡­¡± He pauses, finally adding, ¡°You see, deadly creatures now stalk its halls, water has ceased to flow to Tacriba, and the entrance has been sealed, leaving the Farcaster inside as the only point of access¡­¡± This guy¡¯s hiding something. He pauses briefly, gauging her reaction, before continuing, ¡°Which is where you come in, foreigner. The Farcaster Glyph has been lost since the Punishing Wars devastated Kabu a thousand some aught years ago. No records of its use or even any mention of its existence remain, save the seals themselves¡­¡± A surprising sincerity soon enters his voice, ¡°That makes you very special.¡± Walking back to the bed where Eidos is resting, Khaa continues, ¡°And now, a Farcaster user stands before me¡ªa heaven-sent gift from Biracul for my righteousness, no doubt.¡± ¡°So they have no water?¡± Eidos asks before adding, ¡°The Tacribians sound justified in their grievance.¡± That they do. Nervous at the prospect of losing her aid, Khaa quickly replies, ¡°Well, yes, they are, perhaps¡­ but¡­¡± Searching for the words to express his frustration he stutters until finally saying, ¡°But their thirst for violent reprisal will doom us all!¡± With renewed zeal, he adds, ¡°If they succeed in their assault, then none will remain with knowledge of how to maintain the Wellspring or its aqueducts. Without us, no Kaban will have water!¡± Confident he is argument, he proceeds, ¡°Our destruction would seal the fate of all who dwell in Kabu, Dazirans and Tacribians alike!¡± Eidos lowers her head and thinks for a moment, weighing the evidence, trying to tease out which side will provide the most benefit for the most people. Before she can come to a conclusion, Khaa speaks, ¡°Now, I implore you! Use your Farcasting ability to help me to save both ourselves and our enemies!¡± Oh, please, who would buy that from this guy? We should go talk to the Tacribians first. Oh¡­ dammit, we¡¯re not going to, are we? Eidos looks up, determination carved into each feature of her face. She replies, ¡°If I can, I''ll help you avert this catastrophe.¡± Indeed. His mouth oscillating between a frown and a smile, Khaa seems stuck between ecstasy and disbelief. But before long, he puts back on his mask of dignity and says, ¡°That you seek to righteously preserve innocent lives speaks very highly of your character, Eidos! Now listen closely for here is what you must do.¡± The mage clears his throat, and then begins counting off the steps on his fingers, ¡°First, you will use the Farcaster to access the Wellspring, at the heart of which you''ll find a gate that impedes the flow of water to the stronghold of the Tacribians.¡±A second finger springs up, ¡°Then, you will open it, and when you do, you will have our eternal love and gratitude.¡± He hesitates, as though just having thought of something important and not wanting to admit he had forgotten, ¡°¡­And of course, in order to manipulate the guardians within, as well as all other mechanisms, you''ll likewise require this Sigil of Wulfias.¡± Producing from his robe a Sigil, much like the one Eidos herself had received from Fenrir, he hands it to her. ¡°Take great care as this is a priceless artifact! It has been passed down through the generations from mage to mage, and is utterly irreplaceable!¡± Eidos hesitates. Wait, why don¡¯t we just give him our Sigil and let him go take care of this? ¡°If I can use your Sigil, couldn¡¯t you just use mine?¡± She asks. Yes! This is how it should be body. Just do what I want and everyone is happy. See? He spins to look at her, shock and greed sweeping across his face. But within the space of a thought, these are overwhelmed by a very different, unidentifiable emotion. ¡°It is not possible, I¡¯m afraid.¡± He turns away again. ¡°Who would lead my people if the draug-witted Tacribians somehow actually made it to our gates?¡± His voice adopts a somber tone. ¡°No, though it pains me to entrust such a task to stranger, it must be done. For the good of my people.¡± The mage hastily begins to make his way to the door, adding, ¡°Now, allow me to show you the way to our Farcaster, that you may then hurry to fulfill your oath.¡± Opening the door, he soon adds, ¡°Biracul will reward your selfless actions, stranger.¡± He¡¯d better reward me with an easy path to the goal. Suddenly, the diplomat in her thinks it prudent to venture one request, ¡°Khaa, I¡¯d speak with your citizens, to learn more of the people I¡¯ll be helping, and to learn what I can of what happened in the Wellspring.¡± ¡°My explanations are not enough?!¡± The bastard of indignation and anxiety cry out with the mage¡¯s voice. ¡°You¡¯d waste more time and bring my people closer to death?!¡± He rushes back over to her. ¡°Every breath we waste on these pointless details just stirs the chaos. The Tacribians won¡¯t wait forever!¡± Determined, she replies, ¡°You ask too much. If I am to go, I want to be as prepared as possible. I need to know what to expect.¡± Khaa jerks his head away. ¡°The Artisans are on the middle tier. Speak with them and then leave.¡± He begins to walk toward the door. ¡°Remember, you hold the lives of my people in your hands.¡± And with these words, he opens the door and storms out, leaving Eidos and Rada alone in the room. With a sympathetic smile, Rada inclines her head toward the door and begins to hobble towards it. Eidos rises from the bed, soon catching up to the wizened matron and offering an arm for support. The spark of gratitude brightens her eyes. Reaching a hand to Eidos¡¯ cheek, she softly caresses it. It seems so miraculous to Eidos that such calloused hands, survivors of decades of hard labor, can feel so soft. Rada then loops her arm in Eidos¡¯ and they make their way out of the abode and into a place most unexpected in the middle of a desert: an arboretum. The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Diplomat — A Local Perspective A Local Perspective ___________________ Dazir - The Arboretum Eidos walks in silence with her elderly companion through a garden of greens, reds, and every color imaginable. The lively foliage stands in stark contrast to the deathly desert she came through to get here. If we had a wolf, a serpent, and a crow, it¡¯d be the spitting image of the mural near where I woke up. ¡°This is what Kabu was said to look like long ago,¡± says the old woman. ¡°Back in the times of Ark.¡± She then adds with a rather sour dissonance now in her tone, ¡°Before Rikharr¡¯s betrayal.¡± But her pruny visage soon regains the gentle creases of jocularity it so often hosts. Rada slows to a stop, suddenly plopping down onto a stone bench to rest a moment. ¡°Hope you don¡¯t mind if I sit for a beat, dear. These legs just aren¡¯t as strong as they used to be.¡± Eidos sits down beside her. ¡°By all means, take as long as you need, Rada.¡± Yeah, you¡¯re a breath of fresh air in this nest of assholes. ¡°Biracul speaks through you, child.¡± She places a hand on Eidos¡¯ shoulder. But suddenly her smile fades and her features become grave, ¡°But there¡¯s something¡­ odd about you.¡± Her sunken eyes begin to examine Eidos from head to toe. ¡°Yes, something¡­ off.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Eidos replies, a bit self-conscious now. Yeah, what do you mean? Rada abruptly ends her scrutiny, offering, ¡°Oh, well, for one, you¡¯re not of Kabu¡ªand it¡¯s mighty rare to have visitors from the outside these days. Last flying caravan came years ago¡­¡± she trails off. Eidos stares at Rada expectantly, soon encouraging her to speak on, ¡°But why would people stop coming?¡± Slightly shocked at the question, Rada counters, ¡°Oh, child, you¡¯d think a foreigner like yourself would know how hard it is to get here in the first place!¡± After a moment, she continues, ¡°Kabu is as isolated as it gets! The Duskfangs shield our back and the canyon guards our fore, not to mention the draugnir beyond the canyon.¡± She stops, carefully weighing Eidos¡¯ reaction, ¡°How did you get here? You may be young, but I can¡¯t really see you scaling the sheer cliffs surrounding the Jenowin Plain,¡± she adds with a chuckle. Eidos pauses, wondering just how much honesty she should inject into her answer. Why not tell her the truth?! She¡¯s a nice lady! ¡°I awoke in a building to the south of here, already on the plain. Then, I just walked here. Didn¡¯t see any cliffs, just desert,¡± she says with an unfiltered honesty, uncharacteristic of a diplomat, but perhaps fitting given who Eidos is speaking with. Rada listens with a half smile, chewing on her words before she speaks, ¡°Well, that¡¯s fine, dear. We ladies must always have some secrets.¡± Hey! She doesn¡¯t believe us! Then, taking a deep breath, she says, ¡°Well, I think I¡¯m rested enough to lead you to the cloudstone now! Shall we?¡± Eidos stands, offering Rada a hand, and between the two of them, they manage to get her on her rickety feet again. Then the two walk for another short while in comfortable silence before finally arriving at the very center of the garden. ¡°Over yonder, you see that fountain?¡± Rada suddenly asks, pointing to an opulent marble structure, more waterfall than fountain. ¡°That¡¯s where our water comes in from the Wellspring. And in that shallow pool there is the Farcaster seal.¡± She looks at Eidos with a hint of shame, ¡°Sorry to make you get your feet wet, but no one has used the thing in a thousand years, so we haven¡¯t really been maintaining the barrier around it. Do forgive us, will you?¡± ¡°A little water never hurt anyone,¡± Eidos replies with a smile. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re just so sweet!¡± She says as she pinches Eidos¡¯ cheek. Ouch, damn that hurt! Rada then waddles in place, turning to face an enormous circular disk, diligently guarded by a man asleep. His long beard and myriad wrinkles make even Rada seem as though she were in the spring of her youth by comparison. ¡°And over there is the cloudstone, you can take that down to the lower tiers to ask your questions.¡± ¡°Thank you, Rada. For everything.¡± Except for the cheek pinch¡­ Worry soon refolds the jovial creases of her smile into a frown. ¡°You be careful in there, you hear? The Wellspring is no longer safe!¡± ¡°I will. I¡¯ll be back to return the Sigil right after I¡¯ve released the water. I promise.¡± The matronly smile gains ground, finally replacing the frown. ¡°Bless your Trueflesh, Eidos. May the light of the Shining One guide you.¡± Eidos turns to the cloudstone, and moves towards it and its resting guardian. As she approaches, she can hear him snoring louder than a summer storm. When she arrives, she stands before him and clears her throat to get his attention. More snoring is her reply. She tries again, this time more loudly. The old man continues to snore, also more loudly. I can¡¯t tell if he¡¯s actually asleep or just ignoring me¡­ Uncertainty leads her to abandon the idea of having a conversation with the man, and she proceeds to step onto the cloudstone. A great purr erupts from the device and soon, a brilliant violet haze encircles the entire device. The old man is suddenly roused by the loud noise and bright light, falling halfway out of his chair. ¡°Biracul¡¯s balls! Ya tryin¡¯ to kill me?¡± says the man, still half asleep. ¡°Damn near sent me to the Graylands!¡± Then mashing a near toothless mouth, he adds, ¡°I¡¯m too young to die, you hear!¡± Confused, Eidos offers and apology, ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I tried to wake you, but couldn¡¯t and just thought I¡¯d figure out myself how to get down to the lower tiers.¡± ¡°Well, ya¡¯d better be sorry! Back in my heyday, I could slap the ¡®kharr outta a draug, and I¡¯d venture I could still slap it outta you, too!¡± He raises a pair of shaking fists. I¡¯m pretty sure the only one you can hurt is yourself, old man¡­ ¡°You have my most sincere apologies.¡± I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m actually sorry. ¡°Well, of course I do!¡± he says, spitting off to the side with an elegance not even old age could take from him. ¡°What is it you want anyway, boy? Can''t you see I''m resting!?¡± Not only is he senile, he¡¯s blind, too. ¡°Well, I was hoping you could tell me about Dazir and the current cri¡­¡± ¡°If I have to explain Dazir to one more foreigner,¡± he interrupts, ¡°I''ll go as mad as an outhouse Jinn!¡± ¡°Oh, okay, sorry to dis¡­¡± ¡°Fine!¡± he says, cutting her short. ¡°Now pick up your ears, boy; only gonna say this once!¡± Still not a boy¡­ ¡°Dazir isn''t a flat township like the one those Tambulan bumpkins inhabit.¡± He spits again. ¡°Tambul? ¡®Cradle of Biracul¡¯s Children¡¯?!¡± He squints an eye and leans in as though about to divulge a great secret. ¡°BWAHAHAHAHAhaha¡­hahaha¡­hhhh¡­¡± he starts to wheeze uncontrollably. Concerned, Eidos ask, ¡°Are you¡­¡± ¡°Oh, don''t make an old man laugh himself to an early grave! Now where was I¡­?¡± A lengthy pause ensues. Why say anything? He¡¯ll just inter¡­ ¡°Shut up! I''m old, not senile, you jinnlickin'' fool!¡± he says, now shouting at no one in particular. ¡°So, as I was saying¡­ We built our township vertically¡ªa much better use of space, I''m sure even you''ll agree. And it gets us closer up the slope of Mount Kefkan towards the Wellspring! You can use this here Cloudstone to go to the other levels.¡± Not sure whether to just get on and leave or to venture another question, Eidos simply stands there and waits. The old man just stares. Finally, Eidos decides she¡¯d might as well get as much as she can out the interaction and begins to¡­ ¡°Listen up, because old Asansor will only tell you one time and one time alone! Because I never repeat myself, you hear?! So listen up, because old Asansor will only tell you one time and one time alone! ¡°The lowest tier is for the rank and file Dazirans who do much of the unmasterful labors¡ªmay be simple and dull-witted compared to the upper tiers, but I doubt the best of what the other towns have to offer is their equal!¡± Can I leave yet? Continuing on, uninterrupted, Asansor preaches, ¡°The second tier is for the artisans of Dazir! Those learned elite who¡¯re trained in unearthing and manipulating relics of the Vanquished! ¡°Finally, there''s the Arboretum where we stand, which is for Khaa, Quangjo, and their trusted citizens alone! ¡°You aren''t likely to find a man with as many years of experience and loyal service under his belt than old Asansor in the levels below!¡± A triumphant smirk now hides among the maze of wrinkles that is his face, as he stares down his nose at Eidos. Suddenly, Asansor¡¯s expression goes blank, ¡°Wait a minute¡­¡± He eyes her with suspicion, shoulders tensing. ¡°How''d you even get up here in the first place?!¡± Not that she can explain much, but Eidos starts with what she knows, ¡°I was found on the¡­¡± ¡°Oh, not that I much care anyways¡­¡± his shoulder slump into the relaxed posture of old age. ¡°Now off with you, you jinnlickin'' fool! I''m trying to sleep!¡± Within the span of a thought, the old man renews his slumber. Hesitant to step on the platform and wake the old man again, Eidos stays in place for a while. No, come on! Let¡¯s just go, please! But finally, necessity overrides propriety and she leaps for the cloudstone. The artifact whirs into activity, and she senses it posing a question to her, asking where she needs to go. The second tier is where the artisans are, I think. The device roars and begins its descent. The reawakened guardian spits curses down on Eidos as she whisked away, down towards the second tier. __________________ Dazir - The Workshop Grinding wheels, saws, drills, and hammers all work away at stone, wood, metal and glass. Clinking and buzzing. Cracking and snapping. The bizarre percussive symphony moves along at a hypnotic tempo, lulling the worker spirit into a frenzy. As music would make a person want to dance, so too does this instrumental make Eidos want to work. It takes a great force of will to stop herself from rolling up her sleeves and joining in the industrial bacchanal. Looking around, Eidos notes that while some implements are wielded manually, larger equipment is compelled by driving wheels and complex gear arrangements, themselves turned by water spouting from numerous, variably-pressured fonts in the upper walls. Other rarer items seem to be crystal-driven and also seem to be the most frighteningly powerful among the tools. Lovely, more crystals. Eidos then, inexplicably shivers at the thought. The entire area is abuzz with activity. Scores of people are in equal measure discussing, reading, crafting, and drafting. All wear clothing marked by distinctive turquoise accents¡ªsome even don frocks turquoise in their entirety. While most of the folk here are hard at work, closer inspection reveals that a distinction exists between those wearing turquoise merely as arm bands and those in similarly colored robes: the former perform the hard labor; whereas, the latter appear to have a more supervisory role. Two among the crowd seem to be at loose ends, and as such, free to exchange words with Eidos. One is an elderly chap with a long white bea¡­ No! No more crazy old men! While the other is a sharp-looking yet restless fellow, neither old nor young. That one! However, before she can choose, the younger of the two makes his approach. Without preamble, he begins, ¡°If you''re wondering what an impressive artisan such as myself is doing with an abundance of leisure time, then I assure you I haven''t been cursed by the despondent touch of the Obsidian Jinn¡­¡± Clasping his hands behind his back, he turns and pauses for dramatic effect. Suddenly spinning around he renews his performance, ¡°No! For you see, I''ve good reason to be vexed by my idleness!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure you have your reasons, Mr¡­¡± Eidos politely offers.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. With an escalating excitement at having found a sympathetic ear to talk at, he continues, ¡°Behiye¡¯s the name and indeed, I do have my reasons! Though I am an expert in Vanquished crystalline artifice, ever since our expulsion from the Wellspring I''ve been prevented from my customary metier, you see.¡± ¡°In fact, that¡¯s precisely what I wanted to talk about¡­¡± ¡°Yes, very nice,¡± he says ignoring her comment. ¡°As I''m sure you can imagine, I''ve had more than my fair share of respite! But I fear that my fellows may mistake such unindustrious behavior with torpescence!¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure everyone understands, what with the situation inside the Wellspring and all,¡± Eidos tries again. It¡¯s pointless with these types; they just say what they want. Don¡¯t even try, body. ¡°Yes, yes, for sure. But as you can surmise, I can ill-afford to stare idly at the four walls any longer!¡± he says while raising a finger pointed skyward. Seeing that he is more interested in a ¡®conversation¡¯ focused on himself, the diplomatic Eidos changes tactics, ¡°What is it you normally do for Dazir?¡± Beaming with self-importance, Behiye replies, ¡°Crystal authorities, such as myself, are charged with identifying various minerals, both naturally-occurring and of Vanquished make!¡± ¡°Fascinating!¡± she enthusiastically goads. ¡°Indeed it is!¡± he says chuckling in delight. ¡°It''s we who determine their use for the good of the township, or their preservation for the use of future generations¡­¡± He pauses, solemnly bowing his head. Then, raising his gaze skyward, as though surveying all of his past accomplishments, he adds, ¡°For example, you can thank my predecessors for the very cloudstone lift that brought you here!¡± ¡°Yes, it¡¯s a marvelous invention! Would you mind sharing, how else crystals are used by your community?¡± ¡°Why, nothing would give me greater pleasure!¡± He looks at her with child-like giddiness as he begins to enumerate the various answers to her query, ¡°Well, first, we use violet crystals to create lifts, bridges, and barriers. Then, the red crystals are simply preserved for their ancient records. And of course, any white crystal would be used by the Archives of a given township to shape the growth of the Muninn Trees!¡± Seeing her chance to direct the flow of the conversation, Eidos offers, ¡°All wonderful functions indeed. But, I gather the crystals do nothing to protect you, what with the Wellspring incident and all¡­¡± A hint of righteous indignation frames his smug smile as he replies, ¡°You''re about as correct in that assumption as a Jinnwraith is harmless! If you doubt me, then travel to Tambul and see the marvel that is the gate leading to the Dawn Fortress!¡± Triumphant he looks off to the side and with a grand gesture of the hands add, ¡°The glorious Gate of Celestial Judgment!¡± We¡¯re losing him, body. Nice try, but I doubt he¡¯ll tell us anything about the Wellspring. With a slight frown, Eidos regroups and pushes forward, ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s magnificent, but¡­¡± ¡°Magnificent?!¡± Behiye says slightly shocked. ¡°Truth be told and the words of Famlaz scorned! The protection proffered by that very gate is one of the only obstacles keeping Khlutt and his illiterati from assaulting Dazir!¡± Fear now creeps into his voice, ¡°Without it, the barbarous Tacribs would swarm us like a plague of locusts!¡± ¡°A useful defense, indeed. I stand corrected,¡± she concedes the point, trying desperately to think of a way to coax out something useful from the man. I¡¯m telling you, it¡¯s a waste of time, body. You should listen to me once in a while. Shaking the fear from his face with a few quick jerks of the neck, he continues, ¡°But what were we discussing before such an inauspicious tangent derailed us?¡± The man looks genuinely puzzled. But then, his eyes light up at the discovery of his lost topic, ¡°Ah, yes! Crystals and their myriad uses!¡± he says, as though having just invented the wheel. ¡°You know, Rashak of the ¡®unhinged jaw¡¯,¡± suddenly he leans in and whispers in a secretive tone, ¡°called thus because he talks so much, ho ho!¡± He winks, and moving to a more comfortable distance, renews his lecture, ¡°Well, he theorizes that it might be possible to imbue spent crystals with new energy¡­ ¡°But then again, he lacks the restraint of thought and humility of words for which I am acclaimed among my peers,¡± he says, without even a hint of irony. ¡°Though, if one were to do this, who knows what could be achieved¡­? A mage might well be able to put such a power to some use, perfidious or otherwise!¡± Utterly defeated, Eidos decides to move on. ¡°Well, this was a truly enlightening discussion. My past experiences with crystals have been mostly negative, so it¡¯s good to hear they¡¯re not all so bad.¡± ¡°Bad experiences?!¡± Shock and horror now tinge his voice. ¡°An amateur should never be allowed near a crystal!¡± he emphatically adds. ¡°Why not?¡± Because they cause pain and inject weird green things into you, that¡¯s why not! ¡°Why, because they are brimming with energy, that¡¯s why not! One wrong move and they¡¯ll explode! Which, unless you enjoy the company of the Obsidian Jinn, is never good!¡± That I did not know¡­ ¡°Then, I suppose I should just avoid all crystals,¡± Eidos says, half in jest. ¡°Impossible! Crystals are everywhere! Why, if you want to avoid crystals completely, then you had best go into the very darkest depths of the Wasteland, outsider! For crystals hold no power out there¡­ Yes, not even Techne can work beyond the Dawn Fortress, they say, and venture any further into the Wastes and humans lose the light of their very own mind-crystals!¡± The ¡®Wasteland¡¯? Sounds pleasant¡­ ¡°Is that so?¡± she replies, and before the man can continue, she adds, ¡°Well, I appreciate all the advice, good sir. But I really must be going!¡± Genuine sadness and dismay batter his features into a depressing sight. The pitiable expression on his face accompanies an appropriately stupefied silence. ¡°Have a good day then,¡± Eidos says as she begins to walk away. Finally, now let¡¯s definitely avoid that Rashak guy, because if this guy thinks he talks to much, then¡­ Choking back tears, the man says, ¡°Fare thee well, stranger. Biracul guide you.¡± Shoulders slump and he turns to walk away. Having survived the conversation with Behiye, Eidos scans the area, noting that most folk here are still completely absorbed in their work. Despite her unexplained presence, none seem to take much interest in her. Wishing to avoid another fruitless conversation with a crystal expert, YES! she exits the workshop. __________________________ Dazir - The Workshop Exterior The heat outside the workshop is unbearable. A completely shadowless junkyard, this area appears to serve as a repository for excess materials. Piles of stone and wood litter the cobblestone floor, while great stacks of spooled twine are nestled firmly up against the workshop¡¯s walls. Set apart from all miscellany, however, is a great lattice of crystals. Okay, I know what you¡¯re thinking, body, but don¡¯t do it! What at first appears to be the blinding reflection from the sun''s unforgiving rays instead reveals itself to be the radiant energy housed within the crystals themselves. So bright, so resplendent are they, that Eidos cannot help but avert her tear-filled eyes from them. This lattice appears to be of great importance as it is both isolated from all other areas and boasts a contingent of nearly thirty guards around the perimeter. Good! Guards means we can¡¯t go over there! See? She soon sees that a great number of turquoise-robed people mill about the place, ordering others about with grand gestures and stern faces. Those commanded wear heavy work aprons with turquoise bands tied around their upper arms. Mindlessly they obey all orders, moving with a practiced efficiency well beyond the ordinary. Perfectly tuned, well-oiled cogs, they each perform their part flawlessly, giving life to the machinery of Dazir. At the eastern edge of the junkyard, a banister overlooks the Jenowin Plain. Wow! It¡¯s nothing but desert! How did I cross that! Several of the aproned workers appear to linger there, taking a rest from their back-breaking labor. Further north into town is a large plaza, speckled with thick, stone columns jutting out from the floor like the quills of a giant, rocky porcupine. At the center of the plaza is a decadent fountain of massive proportions, towering over the tops of the columns, reaching nearly to the topmost tier of the township. Oh, so up there is where Rada lives. A bit weary at the prospect of talking to another ¡®expert¡¯, Eidos makes her way towards the stone columns, hoping to speak with a more agreeable character. ______________________ Dazir - The Artisans¡¯ Plaza All around her is a bustling plaza. Dominating the area is a marble fountain several stories tall and well over one hundred paces in diameter. A number of conversing turquoise-clad pairs stroll around the fountain, while a few individuals sit upon the fountain''s lip and in its shade, seeking refuge from the midday sun. Myriad pillars rise from the ground, supporting nothing but the open sky. They are all covered in remarkably beautiful mosaics depicting the history of the Daziran people¡ªnotable among them is one of a gallant female mage wielding a verdant spear as she charges into battle against pale, drooling abominations. Green weapons must be a thing, I guess. One whole side of the area is open to the desert, allowing for a spectacular panoramic view of the desolate landscape¡ªthough to the south, constant dust cyclones kick up airborne sediment obscuring any distant landmarks. However, looking out from the mountains toward the east, a silver tower rejects the sun''s rays, at once inviting and forbidding perception with its blinding reflections. The township beneath it is barely visible amid the brilliance. Further along this railed viewing area appears to be a luxurious residential area. Though she is now quite some distance from the workshop, the sound of hammers on stone, and grinding cogs still announces its presence to the world. Eidos scans the area, looking for a suitable interlocutor. While most of the people in the immediate vicinity are strolling about already engaged in conversation, a select few seem to be available for a chat. Among them, a handsome young man with a kind face catches her eye. She moves toward him with a smile. ¡°Greetings, foreigner! Have you come in search of the secrets of the Vanquished?¡± he says with a genuine smile. He smiles like Rada! Maybe it¡¯s her grandson¡­ ¡°Who are the Vanquished?¡± she asks, confusion carved clearly into her features. With a hint of surprise, and yet without judgment, he replies, ¡°Odd, I thought the Vanquished were known everywhere.¡± Slightly embarrassed, she explains, ¡°I¡¯ve been remiss in my education. Perhaps you could share some Daziran wisdom with me.¡± A charming smile precedes his apology, ¡°Oh, well, I fear you''re in for an unpleasant surprise, as we Dazirans are not nearly so wise as we''ve claimed to be.¡± ¡°But aren¡¯t you the intellectuals of the region?¡± she says. ¡°Most all of you seem to know much, so I just thought your function might be as scholars or something of that nature.¡± ¡°Our function is¡ªor rather, was¡ªto maintain the Wellspring and the aqueducts that supplied all of the townships with water.¡± His voice adopts a tearless sorrow as he continues, ¡°However, in truth, we are little more than glorified stone masons.¡± ¡°But surely, your expertise in maintaining the Wellspring is still unique,¡± Eidos replies in an attempt to console the crestfallen artisan. ¡°True, but I¡¯m convinced magi and townships across the world each hold some unique knowledge. Sadly, it''s all scattered about in the six directions¡ªand jealously guarded at that.¡± Suddenly letting optimism enter his voice again, he says, ¡°Undoubtedly, Biracul was right about communication being the key to civilization.¡± Who¡¯s this Biracul guy, I keep hearing about? ¡°What I wouldn¡¯t give,¡± he continues, ¡°to be able to freely cross the Wasteland! Like a modern-day Torma! Oh, the characters we¡¯d meet! Magi in Jer, Zemes, Zhili or even Thiuda!¡± ¡°Perhaps one day you will, Mr¡­ I didn¡¯t catch you¡¯re name. I¡¯m Eidos.¡± ¡°And I am Serpil, Miss Eidos. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡± Sensing a chance to finally get some answers, she says, ¡°Serpil, I was wondering if you could help me with some questions I had.¡± ¡°Though my knowledge be meager, if it can answer your queries, it¡¯s yours.¡± ¡°Thank you so much!¡± Success elevates her pitch to a squeal. Cheeks turning red, she quickly continues, ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been enlisted to help with the situation in the Wellspring¡­¡± Shock and dismay elicit a shout. ¡°The Wellspring?!¡± Serpil soon regains control of his voice and continues at a more acceptable volume, ¡°But it¡¯s sealed¡­ no one can get in!¡± ¡°No one can get in¡­ through conventional means, that is. I happen to be rather unconventional¡­¡± she says with a false exuberance. ¡°Really?! That¡¯s great!¡± But his excited smile is soon replaced with a worried frown. ¡°But, no¡­ you can¡¯t enter the Wellspring, Eidos. It¡¯s simply too dangerous!¡± ¡°What happened in there, Serpil?¡± He hesitates, averting his gaze. This guy knows something¡­ Out with it, Serpil! ¡°Please, Serpil,¡± Eidos places a hand on his shoulder. ¡°If I¡¯m going to help, I need to know what to expect in there. Besides, I¡¯m stronger than I look,¡± she says, jokingly flexing her biceps. ¡°The truth is,¡± he starts, ¡°No one knows what happened in there.¡± ¡°No one?¡± ¡°Not a single surviving artisan¡ªnot even Khaa himself. The neverborn just swept in without warning, like a horde of draugnir!¡± Emotion overwhelms his sense of propriety. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t been near the Gate of the Heathen when it all happened, I would¡¯ve been slaughtered¡­ just like the rest of them.¡± He pauses. ¡°Their screams. I still hear their screams.¡± Tears begin to accompany weak sobs. With a renewed sense of purpose, ¡°You leave it to me, Serpil. I¡¯ll fix this mess.¡± The man only weeps in response. And with that she stands and moves to return toward the cloudstone, and toward the Farcaster that will take her to her task. __________________ Dazir - The Arboretum Eidos returns to the garden as noisily as she departed, once again waking the sleeping guardian. He merely eyes her with suspicion and annoyance for a moment before renewing his slumber. At least I didn¡¯t have to speak to him again. She then spots her target, patiently waiting in the shimmering pool within the fountain. Eidos moves toward it with a tempered sense of urgency. She knows that time is of the essence, but can also see the folly in rushing into the unknown. Her few conversations with the citizenry yielded meager fruits, but at the very least she knows two things: the Wellspring is dangerous and it must be fixed. Stepping into the fountain, she moves toward the seal, and just as happened in the Sanctuary where she first saw a Farcaster, it calls to her. It begs her to use her Sigil. Oh, I remember that, all right. Seemed dangerous then, seems dangerous now. Now atop the seal, Eidos instinctively places her hand upon the Sigil. Instinct becomes will, will then becoming thought. An image slowly forms, burning out lines from the void. A circle manifests, weaving an intricate tapestry of lines, never crossing, as they traverse dimensions linking paths among them. And soon, the Glyph from her Sigil is fully formed, completing the reaction. Here we go. From the corner of her eye, she spots the Daziran mage leader gazing down at her from the balcony of his abode. Khaa stares on, eyes wide, filled with expectation and curiosity in equal measure. Then, in the space of a thought, the Farcaster begins to disassemble her, bit by bit, unraveling the threads of her physicality, distilling what she is into an ever-compressing essence. What¡¯s going on?! Soon, only the memory of her destination remains present as what she has become makes the journey toward it. The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Diplomat — A Man Out of Time A Man Out of Time _________________ The Nether Edge - Garden Unspeakable pain courses through Eidos'' Self, her Falseflesh melting away in the blue-hot fire of Awareness. A thousand flakes of skin shoot off like fireworks in the six directions, while uncountable fibers of muscle unravel off into the void. And soon every last piece of her physical being loses cohesion, spreading out into infinity. All sense of individuality, all agency is lost, devoured in the flames. Yet, even this pain, intense and eternal as it may seem, soon recedes as form and definition are lost, disappearing along with all perception. In the span of a thought, a timeless eon, Eidos regains awareness of Self and surroundings. The subtle sound of water. A rush of vibrant colors. A perfume befitting nature. Standing atop a Farcaster seal, Eidos'' Self is now within a forest clearing. Eyes see a glade carpeted in lush, emerald grasses, nearly knee-high, but with an uncanny uniformity. A flowing stream wends its way among the gently swaying trees¡ªinvisible to sight, but the ears surmise its existence. Earthy smells of soil, leaves, and flowers drift through the air, a musky sweetness the result. But nature''s design it is not, for it is all too perfect. Casting awareness skyward, eyes now see a radiant crystal showering the surroundings with unnatural light, too pure, too distilled. The trees they bathe have subtly repeating patterns, too regular to be chance. Walking from the seal, looking all about, her Self takes in the details of the surroundings. Outside of this clearing, trees grow wildly. Diminutive saplings are dwarfed and choked by old greatwoods. Trees felled by age lie rotting on the forest floor, giving rise to mushrooms, vines and crawling life. As her Self peers into the deeper parts of the wood, carpets of moss and leaves vanish into the encroaching darkness of the forest canopy. Attention now turns from the trees to the babbling stream meandering through them. The gentle flow empties into a deep pool over a small waterfall not too far off. Dragonflies hover above lilies floating heedlessly at the waterside, while toads croak their atonal chorus on the rocky shore. But soon, another sound enters her Self''s awareness: the rhythmic snipping of shears¡­ In pursuit of the sound''s source, her Self comes upon an elderly man tending to a cluster of bushes and shrubs. His tools bring forth unusual changes in the plants. Cutting a limb from one location, makes another grow elsewhere to replace it. Tying collections of twigs together results in fused branches, with flowers rapidly blossoming from their tips. Pruned branches are sometimes attached to other trunks or to the stems of neighboring growths. Otherwise, they fall to the ground where they rapidly wither, decay, and ultimately rejoin the soil. Despite the man¡¯s significant alterations to the scenery, none of the plants are left looking overtly artificial, nor as if they had been touched by the hand of man at all. ¡°How come this world is filled almost exclusively with old bastards?¡± Holy shit-biscuits and gravy! I can speak! ¡°Wait¡­ can I really speak?! Is this me?!¡± Yes, it is! Eidos is in a state of giddy shock. ¡°¡­Greetings, traveler.¡± The man continues with his work without turning to face Eidos. ¡°I am Nargund.¡± ¡°Sorry! I¡¯m just not used to being able to speak, and¡­¡± embarrassment beyond measure washes away the excitement her Self felt but moments ago. His expression softens, every so slightly. ¡°You¡¯re not speaking, actually. You¡¯re just thinking.¡± ¡°Thinking?¡± I thought this was thinking¡­ ¡°Here, they are equivalent,¡± he offers. Making a final snip, he turns to face Eidos, ¡°I must say, it has been quite some time since anybody used the Farcaster. But then again, perhaps it is about time.¡± ¡°Well, I hope I¡¯m not disturbing you; didn¡¯t mean to barge in on your¡­ home?¡± Is this guy like some forest nymph or something? Oh dammit! He can hear my thoughts! ¡°Shut up, thoughts!¡± Whether to be polite or out of genuine apathy, the man ignores her exchange, saying, ¡°Well, you''re welcome to come and go through here, though do avoid disturbing my arrangements.¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°Oh, of course! I wouldn¡¯t dream of it!¡± Eidos replies innocently. ¡°I¡¯m just happy to finally get to talk to someone.¡± ¡°You¡¯re alone in your satisfaction, I¡¯m afraid,¡± Nargund says with the cold indifference of a career misanthrope. ¡°I¡¯m rather content in my solitude. You may ask your questions and then leave, Eidos.¡± Jerk. ¡°No, wait! I mean¡­ actually, yeah! That¡¯s exactly what I mean!¡± she says, frustrations finally boiling over. ¡°I finally get to speak¡­¡± ¡°Think,¡± he corrects. ¡°¡­think! Yes, I know! Think! I finally get to have my thoughts heard, and you¡¯re the jackass I have to be heard by?! What is wrong with this place?!¡± Nargund silently regards for several moments. His eyes reflect a bizarre mixture of vexation and curiosity. ¡°Are those the questions you have for me?¡± ¡°What?¡± He continues, ¡°The answers, as I see them, are thus: first, yes, it appears that I am the first to hear you directly; and second, I ask is the place wrong are your expectations simply unfounded?¡± ¡°You¡¯re an aggravating one, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Your aggravation seems to stem from your betrayed expectations.¡± He shrugs. ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s best if you re-examined why you expected anything other than what reality has shown itself to be, Eidos. Now, if have you no more questions, I¡¯ll get back to my gardening.¡± Eidos stops. Her Self begins to contemplate what her expectations are and why she should have them. I¡¯m not sure. ¡°I guess I have no reason to believe it should be anything other than what it is.¡± An epiphany. ¡°I just wish it weren¡¯t like this.¡± Regret and sympathy speaking through him, Nargund muses, ¡°At some point or another, we all wish for things that aren¡¯t.¡± Feeling the weight of expectation slide from her Self, Eidos inquires, ¡°So, I can ask questions, then, right?¡± ¡°Indeed.¡± ¡°How many questions?¡± ¡°As many as pleases you, Eidos, but recall that a flower needs a precise volume of water to grow. Too little dries it; too much drowns it; both extremes kill it.¡± With a nod of understanding, she continues, ¡°Fine. First, why do you know my name?¡± ¡°I know the names of most all things. If it has been thought, I¡¯ve likely heard it.¡± ¡°So you read thoughts?¡± ¡°I interpret thoughts.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the difference?¡± she asks, irritated by the overly simplistic answers. ¡°When you see a word, do you know its meaning or just its name?¡± ¡°Both?¡± exasperation creeps into her voice. ¡°What then does ¡®throniran¡¯ mean?¡± ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know. But I bet you just made it up right now, didn¡¯t you?!¡± With cool detachment, he counters, ¡°Aren¡¯t all words made up?¡± ¡°How am I supposed to learn anything from your vague answers?!¡± she snaps. ¡°Your learning is your own responsibility. Ask the right questions, and suddenly the answers seem obvious.¡± Argh! Why is it so hard to answer a simple question!? ¡°It¡¯s not. But as I doubt you¡¯ll be able to ask a simple question of me at the moment, I suggest you return to the Farcaster.¡± He turns away from her, picking up his shears. ¡°Clearly, more context is required for your truths to be fashioned.¡± He begins snipping. Well, I¡¯d love to stay, and keep you from boring the trees to death, but I have a village to save! Come on, body; let¡¯s get out of here. Feet soon stamp through the forest back towards the river she traced to get here. While walking back to the Farcaster, the scenery shifts. Leaves spontaneously exchange places, and entire branches disappear. Even groups of trees vanish to the left and reappear to the right. Any sense of familiarity has vanished in this ever-changing labyrinth of trees and shrubs. Yet, even in spite of these chaotic transformations, the right path is always evident¡ªindeed, innate¡ªto her Self, remaining fixed in this maelstrom of growth. In short order, the Farcaster appears, waiting patiently in its lonely glade. It again calls, but unlike before, Eidos can now start to pick out individual thoughts. The Farcaster can think? Stepping upon its silvery seal, her Self quiets the mind and listens. ¡°Archon status reckoned. Name the will of your travel,¡± a choir of a thousand voices seem to ask all at once. Well, this is interesting... Send me to the Wellspring, Farcaster. ¡°Casting Archon essence and shape to Wellspring.¡± The words end abruptly, as light envelops her Self, completely isolating her essence from all else. Here, she is not of physical make; here, nothing is. Consciousness wanes, split into myriad fragments. On a stream of light, each piece now swiftly courses toward intent¡¯s destination. The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Diplomat — An Excursion in Ignorance An Excursion in Ignorance __________________________ The Wellspring ¨C Farcaster Chamber Darkness flees with the advent of light. Pure, concentrated, nary a flicker as it rushes out from the Farcaster seal. The process inverts. Bones and sinew weave a shell, and skin rushes to complete her Falseflesh as Eidos is rebuilt from the life-fire of the Nether Edge. When the reintegration ends and the light dies, the murky shadows return and Eidos is plunged into their dark realm. She is immediately buffeted from all sides by short-livedgusts of wind, driving her from the metallic surface of the Farcaster seal. Okay, not fun. Stop it, wind! Her eyes grow accustomed to the chamber¡¯s low light. Four walls shield half an octagonal chamber, the missing ones the source of the recent gales. Moving forward towards the opening and looking down, she sees tiny pinpoints of light, shimmering within the surface below. They stare at her like the myriad eyes of curious yet shy onlookers hiding behind dark veils. And yet another creepy place. Yet soon the illusion is dispelled. As Eidos notices their unnatural swaying motion, she sees the reflection for what it is. These are the lights of the stars, mischievously misguiding their observers into a reflecting pool. Canting her head skywards, she confirms her suspicions, finding a band of sky snaking through the canopy of shadows overhead. This place is scary, yet also, oddly beautiful. She is learning to appreciate the little things. Her eyes adapt quickly to the meager starlight, and the shapes of her surroundings begin to reveal themselves. Eidos stands in a chamber much like the one in which she first awoke. The tiles here may be cracked and broken all about, and the walls may be barren and devoid of all decoration, but the material, and structure are identical to what she witnessed in the Sanctuary. Same builders? Staring out beyond the missing walls, Eidos soon sees that this room is not the only victim of entropy¡¯s greed; in fact, the building housing the chamber itself has likewise been ripped open by some ancient cataclysm. An immense ravine cuts through the building like a killing blow from Heaven¡¯s sword. Behind her, a door but ten paces away breaks the continuity of the walls and leads deeper into the Wellspring. I suppose that¡¯s where I have to go, then. But it holds little interest for her at the moment and she approaches the edge of the ruined chamber now staring out over the ravine. Once there, a mischievous wind again seeks to off-balance the intrepid explorer, but this time Eidos is prepared. She roots herself firmly and thus, only her travel robe is whipped about. Her eyes, now fully adjusted to the lonely starlight above, spot the reflective surface of another rockface at the far side of this expansive ravine. The missing side? What could¡¯ve broken a building in two? Though too dark to tell for sure, she thinks she spots four more walls on the opposite side. Suddenly, Eidos feels a familiar presence. Engraved into a smooth stone pedestal near her, a Glyph gazes up at the starlit sky. That¡¯s the same Glyph from Khaa¡¯s Sigil. What was it? The Sigil of Wulfias? She reaches to touch the pedestal and suddenly all thought scatters. Staring into the mirror of memory, the reflection of a proud yet penitent mage flashes before her eyes. A single tear for Rikharr traces the mage¡¯s cheek, falling to the cold metal of his silver throne. The deep spring beneath these ruins cries in sympathy, thus beginning the endless flow now within it. The flame of life soon flares within the ancient edifice as the mage''s own flame slowly dwindles, slowly wanes, soon becoming nothing but a thin stream of smoke. Very soon, all turns cold and still, as even the memory of the candle itself fades into oblivion¡­ What just happened? For a moment, I was¡­ someone else. Eidos wipes the tears she only now realizes stream down her face. She remembers lives of the past, lives yet to come, lives she must live, all very much her own, and yet as foreign and as insubstantial as a dream. Her hand yet grips the pedestal, and instinct compels her to palm its companion Sigil. Instinct becomes will, will then becoming thought. An image slowly forms, burning out lines from the void. A circle manifests, weaving an intricate tapestry of lines, never crossing, as they traverse dimensions linking paths among them. And soon, the Glyph from the Sigil of Wulfias is fully formed, completing the reaction. The far side of the ravine burns a cold violet as a cloudstone near it springs to life. Responding to her will, the pedestal pulls the glowing stone towards her. Slowly it crawls its way through the emptiness, and soon the violet haze of the floating platform reaches the edge of the chamber, ready for Eidos to ride it across. Stepping onto the ancient device, Eidos half fears it will fall, casting her down into the shimmering abyss below. Yes, but then again, I¡¯m constantly worried that this world is trying to kill me, so¡­ The pool with its thousand eyes seems to stare in anticipation of her descent. But then again¡ªagain(?)¡ªI¡¯ve really only died once before. And it wasn¡¯t that bad. Growing comfortable with her situation, Eidos resolves to proceed. Suddenly, the cloudstone lurches forward, jolting Eidos off balance. Argh, dammit! Crouching low, she quickly adjusts to the new direction of motion and realigns herself as the levitating platform glides across the ravine. Gripping the edge and peering over the side, she now sees the truly gargantuan extent of the rift''s breadth and depth. So wide an arrow loosed across it would never reach the other side; so deep the arrow would pierce the water erect. The platform''s slow pace likewise allows her to get a better view of the starry sky above. As she deeply inhales the chill night air, it feels as though time slows to a near halt, moments now measured only by the space between her own awestruck breaths. But as all moments must, this moment of tranquility also passes, and Eidos sees that she has safely reached the other side. Well, that was nice. But, now it¡¯s back to narrowly avoiding death. The landing on this side is much the same as the one she left behind. The entrance to another chamber warmly invites her in, like an old friend. That¡¯s where I go. I mean you¡¯re not going to bring me all the way here just to send me back, right body? She hesitates, Oh, come on!, finally stepping from the platform and moving towards the door. ________________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Silver Shrine Light appears to be in short supply. Maybe it has to do with the incident? What little aid Eidos'' strained eyes do receive bleeds in from large gashes in the domed ceiling far above. However, those exposed patches of starlight burned in the midnight sky rain down enough of their bounty to make out the shapes and sizes of all objects within the chamber. While the stars were myriad fireflies in the great abyss of the ravine, here their power is blurred, distorted, and yet unified. Their ambient glow seems to coalesce around a shining silver throne, as if it wore a shroud woven from spiraling flecks of mist and light. This room is a strange concoction of ruin and ritual, accident and artifice. The floor gently crackles with her every step as though eggshells lined her path. Looking down, Eidos notes that the floor was once made of titanic slabs of stone, each perhaps twice as wide as she is tall and half again as long, yet all are now shattered. Within each slab, countless cracks spread out like spiderwebs from focused wounds. Gaze again shifting skywards, Eidos observes that the many dark panes of the ceiling mirror the ground in their destruction. Nearly all are marred by countless fractures streaking across their surfaces like sparks frozen in time. Yet, the room''s utter ruin stands in stark opposition to its centerpiece. The metallic throne abates the encroaching pandemonium, a defiant rock standing amid the crashing waves of entropy. It is surrounded by clay vessels of water, eight in number. From these eight points, white chalk radiates outward, marking a spiraling pathway through the chamber. The line connects each impact point to the central throne, octagons within squares within circles surrounding each point. Unlit candles have been placed along this path and the smell of incense still lingers in the air. The perfection and symmetry given to these tracings battle Nature''s tendency toward anarchy, serving as an imposition of order upon chaos, stability upon uncertainty. Sure is¡­ artistic¡­ But what could¡¯ve caused this? It had to be before the recent incident, otherwise how would they have drawn out all of this nonsense in the first place? Eidos carefully steps across the cracking surface and over the designs, momentarily darkening the shimmering glow of reflected starlight as though she were a storm cloud blotting out the sun. The silvered throne appears to blur as she draws nearer and clarity eludes her vision, despite conquering physical distance. The surface looks slightly melted, as if it had once been exposed to intense heat. An irresistible urge to sit upon the chair emerges, and without understanding why, she sits. Ok, get ready for another bizarre experience, Eidos. All about her, lingering whispers echo, yet she does not feel the vibrations of a physical sound. The whispers crescendo through the power of mechanisms unseen until language emerges. ¡°onWulfiaskuarchonohreckish,¡± a thousand voices seem to chant at once. ¡°onvadohnashleerish. onfuokarrohvanish. onGurgadonugokohnashshonzhaiish.. onGulgannawahidhvashonzhaiish¡­¡± This sounds just like the sentry back in the Sanctuary! ¡°onkarroh.. vanish¡­¡± sing the myriad voices, fading abruptly at the end. ¡°ibdormohsuoh.. ibnashreckish.. sohdormish¡­¡± Then, silence. Eidos rises, leaving the throne and its ghostly choir. I really need to learn whatever language it is they¡¯re speaking. Looking to the left, Eidos sees a metallic gate, composed of thousands of interlocking plates like the scales of a forged serpent. It may once have been a mechanical marvel, but it now stands immobile, frozen in time and laying bare its secrets. The semi-circular tunnel beyond it is wide enough to fit fifty men abreast. To the right, a nearly identical gate resides. This twin is of similar composition, but unlike its candid brother, this gate is sealed shut.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Walking past the threshold of the open gate, the air becomes murky and suffocating. While the previous area carried the scent of incense, this place reeks of it. The smell and murk become ever denser until it is as if she were walking through a fog. Still, she moves forward into the passageway beyond. ________________________ The Wellspring ¨C Gurgadon¡¯s Sanctum As Eidos reaches the end of the passage, the sporadic reflections of metal sparkle at her arrival. She now stands in a chamber built up of a great many walls rising around her in the shape of an irregular orb. Each wall appears to be a five-sided surface, though thick clouds of incense smoke make their exact number difficult to determine. Here too, stars peek through small cracks in the ceiling, but the rays are diffused by the stale, smoky vapors. Searching through the haze, Eidos observes that the smoke arises from the past exhalations of five braziers, one in each of the floor''s corners. Only the slightest hint of red abides within them to hint at their dying embers. They surround a great mass at the chamber''s center, a heap of material indistinct in the gloom. Traced white chalk patterns adorn the floor, as they did in the Silver Shrine whence she came, yet the relative lack of luminescence renders them dull and lifeless by comparison. Unlit candles likewise dot the landscape, surrounding mounds of glass shards at various points in the spiraling patterns. Bowls of sacrifice have been placed upon these shards, though they seem to lie empty. The source of the glass becomes apparent as Eidos turns her gaze to the walls and ceiling. The entire area is studded with large crystalline mounds, most broken and ruined. At last, Eidos reaches the center of the room, just as her eyes adjust to the murky haze. What light does shine into this chamber is reflected off the lightly dusted, massive cobalt mound resting before her. She squints to focus her vision in an effort to discern the nature of this metallic heap. In time, her mind brings the details into focus and comes to the startling realization that she is gazing into the lifeless eye of a once-animated behemoth. Aaahhhh! She leaps back in surprise before steadying herself. The mound is of tremendous size, dwarfing her many times over. What is that thing!? Though it may have been mighty in life, this inert monstrosity now poses no threat. What am I saying? It¡¯s just one of the thousands of dangerous things I keep bumping into. At least it¡¯s not alive anymore. Composure regained, Eidos begins to circle the body, noticing numerous dimly glowing, green gashes marring the corpse''s metal carapace. Don¡¯t tell me Luin killed this thing, too?! Well, at least he¡¯s on my side¡­ While the chamber is too dark to look inside the wounds with any semblance of clarity, it appears that the cobalt plating is not hollow but an armored skin protecting something inorganic within. She walks for minutes until finally coming back around to what must have been its gargantuan head. Here a puncture wound piercing it from jaw to crown leaks a cerulean ichor, still wet to the touch¡­ And here we are touching things we shouldn¡¯t be touching again. I hate that I can recognize this stuff by feel¡­ gross, it¡¯s basically sentry blood. So was this thing also a sentry? But this is all she can determine from her current investigations and now is left with no other options but to return whence she entered. All right, time to go, body. ____________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Ravine Eidos makes her way back to the cloudstone that brought her here, careful not to disturb any of the scrupulously arranged items of worship. Upon reaching the ravine, she mounts the floating cloudstone, this time prepared for the lurch, and off she goes. Soon she is soaring across the expanse, but this time fully turning her attention to the sights below. The downward distance between her and that of the pooled water is staggering. Were it not for the stars reflected upon its rippling, glassy surface, Eidos would see nothing but an endless void. Suddenly, the abyss within seems to resonate with the one below, calling out to her. A vision of casting herself from the platform seizes her with vivid clarity. No, not going to jump! She can see herself crashing into the void and joining in its solitude, becoming nothing in its all-encompassing embrace. Now don¡¯t do anything rash, body! A powerful desire to peer into this tenebrous patch of midnight wraps its tendrils around her, guiding her to look upon on the other side of death. Look, I can¡¯t die, but that doesn¡¯t mean it doesn¡¯t hurt when I get killed! As quickly as it came, the moment passes. Why do you enjoy scaring me like that, body? The promise of maturity has been fulfilled and her darkest moment yet is now a thing of the past. By the time she can regain her bearings, she has already arrived at the Farcaster side of the ravine. Great, now let¡¯s not think about death and try walking through the door on this side, shall we? She steps off of the cloudstone and proceeds through the doorway entering deeper into the Wellspring. Good, now I just need to find out where I can release the water¡­ Probably should have asked Khaa that¡­ Oh, well. ___________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Cage The howling winds turn to inaudible whimpers as Eidos enters a narrow corridor. Lichen crawling across the stonework belies the apparent age and relative disuse of this area. She slips at closely spaced intervals, stubbornly refusing to fall in spite of the slick lichen''s best efforts. Before long, however, dust begins to coat the floor in thin films, making the path slightly less treacherous. While the corridor is dark at first, the promise of light shines from a door some fifty paces beyond. The threshold transports her into a dimly lit chamber. Sconces embedded in the walls bathe the room in soft, amber light, revealing finely carved support structures. The fluted columns and scrollwork adorning the structures have been aged by the persistence of the damp winds, the same ones silently creeping down the corridor in pursuit of Eidos. The room is dominated by a mechanical device, an open cage on a raised platform at the center of the room. Not far from where she stands, Eidos likewise spies a raised font, or stone pedestal of some sort. Exactly the same as the one near the ravine¡­ must control that cage thing over there. Eidos first approaches the cage. A visual distortion warps the space within. The air shimmers and swirls, coalescing into a pale, blue humanoid form. Balled up and floating mid air, it spins, limbs unfolding and eyelids opening, revealing a pair of glowing eyes¡ªas amber as the crystalline light within the room¡ªpeeking out from beneath a crimson hood. The elegant and terrifying form of a nearly naked woman now hovers midair, suspended within the cage as if in water. The tendrils of her long, red hair snake and writhe about with uncanny slowness. And what once appeared to be a hood atop her head, Eidos now sees as merely an extension of the creature''s prehensile hair. At the mere thought of approach, the female reacts. The speed of the creature''s movement increases. Its eyes glow with a richer, golden incandescence. Motes of light flicker within its pearlescent skin, floating in the creature just as it floats in the cage. The ambient light within the room seems to wax as though overpowered and absorbed, the creature''s luminescent intensity inversely mirroring it. This can¡¯t be good¡­ Eidos hears a voice, echoing within her mind. Faint and elusive, it more closely resembles the incomplete recollection of a melody than speech. She listens, carefully, seeking the pattern within the melody. She hears no words, only humming and buzzing, waves of emotion both consistent and evolving. Parsing the signs and signifiers, Eidos suddenly has a flash of insight: the creature does not speak; it simply emotes; and it appears to eagerly anticipate Eidos'' approach¡­ Whereas I eagerly anticipate my retreat. Sensing danger, Eidos retreats to the pedestal, hoping to avoid conflict with the specter. Embedded in the center of the pedestal, a shining, glossy crystal radiates soft amber light. At its core, Eidos spots a thin filament, a pulsating light. She looks deeper; there she sees an image within the flickering spark. A dormant feminine figure, knees curled to her chest, reclines within an invisible barrier; her body is covered only by flowing locks of long, red hair. Okay, so is this her true form or what? Of instinct, Eidos grips the pedestal and the Sigil of Wulfias, as she did near the ravine. Instinct becomes will, will then becoming thought. An image slowly forms, burning out lines from the void. A circle manifests, weaving an intricate tapestry of lines, never crossing, as they traverse dimensions linking paths among them. And soon, the Glyph from the Sigil of Wulfias is fully formed, completing the reaction. The intellect within the crystal is laid bare. So this is an ¡®arclight¡¯¡­ a protector of some sort? While its intent to protect this location is clear, the arclight''s thoughts remain unintelligible. Protecting it from what? What exactly did the Dazirans do in here? The Sigil now activated, Eidos is shrouded in the cloak of Wulfias'' identity, thus assuming the mantle of Wellspring Archon. The arclight obsequiously bows to its master, only to then vanish into the void whence it emerged. Again approaching the cage, Eidos can sense the mindshell that manipulates the device. It is a lift for accessing two other levels of the Wellspring¡ªone above and one below. She enters.Going up! As soon as the thought is shaped in her mind, a dumb, formless awareness responds by propelling the metal platform into motion. The clatter of the mechanism becomes almost deafening as the cage rises into an aperture at the top of the ceiling and she is plunged into darkness. ___________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Mural Room As the cage travels further up the shaft, the darkness slowly gives way to a dim yet variegated glow. When the contraption is pulled passed the lip of the floor above, Eidos witnesses its source. Innumerable crystalline pieces adorn the walls, each one glowing dimly like the frozen flames of a thousand candles. The illumination distracts, however, from the true nature of this rainbow mosaic; crystals upon three of the four walls are arranged in what looks to be a collection of smaller images, seeming to relate a series of grand events. While the character and detail of the happenings differ, they appear to have been committed to stone at the same time and by a single artist. The stark contrast of the one wall standing completely devoid of glass and light seems to await a history yet to come. The first wall shows a number of folk standing in worship about a circle of stones at whose center is a massive tree. Looks a lot like the one in the Sanctuary archives. The branches of this great white Muninn host leaves of a vibrant emerald green. Looking closely, Eidos sees that this wall is framed in a matching border of twisting, leafy vines. A blue clad figure sits in its branches, bearing a halo or sun-like object in upraised hands. Another image upon the wall depicts three individuals following a gray-hooded figure into a range of mountains. They are followed by two hulking beasts a story tall and twice as long, skinned in plates of shimmering sapphire. Wow! One of those must be that thing I saw near the Silver Throne! Gurga-whatever its name was! Don! Gurgadon! The final image on this wall depicts the gray leader and his fellows lying dead, while the image of the blue clad figure stands triumphant. His followers and the armored beasts are drawn in poses of worship and submission before their vanquisher. But what is that all about¡­? The second wall''s first image shows a proud woman displaying a vibrant emerald spear with many people knelt before her, hands widespread in stances of adoration and awe. The blade of the weapon shines brightly, reflecting off of several skulls and bones littered across the ground. The same individual is shown atop a mountain in battle with one of the hulking, sapphire beasts from the first mural. The result of the combat is clear, with the emerald blade drawing rubies from the beast''s defeated husk. So that¡¯s how it died¡­ In the final vignette, gouts of yellow smoke seem to belch forth from its mouth, striking many bystanders dead while the heroine''s fate remains undepicted. However, the leaves of the border look to have withered to a barely luminescent imperial topaz. The third wall continues the heroine¡¯s saga. So she survived! She is locked in combat with a monstrous thing, painted as a horrific fusion of human and animal features, with pale diamond skin bathed in onyx flame. It seems that in response to this struggle, the vines that make up the border are being consumed by the dark fire radiating from the abomination. Wreathed around this scene is a larger conflict between armed warriors and a horde of emaciated horrors, looking more skeletal than human. Everything is illustrated in brutal detail with all the visceral imagery of war. A gold flecked tower is drawn in a state of collapse, falling into a canyon. Nearby, obsidian wolves and crows feast upon the corpses of the dead. It seems as though the female champion and her nemesis follow the golden tower, all of them falling into a pitch abyss at the bottom of a canyon, just below a leviathanic bridge. However, the final image upon the wall depicts both the heroine and the monster still alive. The lower third of the image shows the adversary in a chamber deep beneath the earth, superimposed over a black void, chained and imprisoned. The heroine is shown with her weapon over her shoulder, walking into a desert that fades into the face of the barren stone wall. So, a history¡­ but of what? But a sudden realization comes upon her: she has a task to complete. Oh, yeah, I should go find the water valves. And thus, she leaves the mosaics, leaves the exploration, and returns to her duty. Entering the cage, she opts to descend to the lower levels. Perhaps there, she can find what she seeks. The merest thought of descent is answered by the bodiless presence within the crystal, and Eidos is nearly thrown from her feet by the cage¡¯s sudden movement as it begins to sink into the darkness below. The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Diplomat — A Task Remembered A Task Remembered _____________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Scriptorium The cage gently stops. A nice contrast to its rough starts¡­ Amber crystals yet remain here illuminating the modest workspace. Desks dominate the room, numbering well beyond what a mere glance can count. The room is filled with tomes, parchment, pens, and quills, and is likely dedicated to reading and copyingthe many volumes that line the shelves along the walls. Would read some of them, but that proved fruitless before, didn¡¯t it? Two chambers lead from here, both identified by simple wooden placards placed above their corresponding door frames. One of them reads ¡®Living Quarters¡¯, the other claiming ¡®Gate of the Heathen¡¯ as its name. How come I can read those, though? The contents of these halls are difficult to determine from this location, but a faint smell of spoiled meat permeates the entire area. Lovely. Seeing one direction is just as good as the other, she proceeds towards the Living Quarters. _________________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Living Quarters Guided solely by her probing hands and feet, Eidos enters the silent darkness of this new chamber¡ªthough the strengthening of the sour stench of rotting meat certainly offers further clues of what to expect. Errant streams of subdued light give the three doors of this room an icy glow. The lack of lighting within the chamber, however, forces her eyes to grow attuned to the shadows. What the darkness once concealed is a living area in complete disarray. Bedding, chairs, tables, bunks, and tomes have all been hurled across the floor. Walking becomes difficult as a great number of the bunks themselves have been ripped from the walls and splintered into puzzles impossible to reassemble. Eidos¡¯ progress is eventually halted when she comes upon the bodies. Gross, more dead things. I¡¯m guessing it was Luin again. From here to the limits of the room, corpses are strewn about in quantities large enough to populate a small township. But if it was Luin, then where¡¯s the green glow? The bodies mirror the broken bunks in their numerous unnatural separations. And an absolute lack of sound or movement seems to corroborate the suspicion that none survived the slaughter. Eidos quickly reconfirms the room''s three exits by their pale blue haze before continuing her exploration. Best to know where to run if whatever did this comes back. But distance prevents her from reading the placards above them. Among the corpses and chaos, she also detects a surprisingly unperturbed desk. A great many papers and documents lay atop, littering the surface of the desk. Eidos moves to examine the bodies. I figured as much. You¡¯re a rather morbid creature, you know that, body? Most folk here don robes slashed and crusted with blood. Clean cuts suggest a sharp blade, and precise angles indicate a skilled hand. The lacerations are too numerous and too deep to have been caused by a human weapon, looking more as though they were inflicted by some grotesque, shadowy creature. Well, at least I have a grotesque green creature in me as protection¡­ Eidos notices many of the wounds were inflicted upon their backs and sides, as though they were in retreat when cut down. Climbing over the corpses, careful not to further desecrate them with her footprints, Eidos makes her way to the lone beacon of order among the chaos. Upon arrival, she rifles through the documents looking for something she can understand. It¡¯s pointless; I can¡¯t read this stuff¡­ Among the documents, Eidos discovers something interesting regarding Khaa''s recent excavations. Wait! I can read this?! ¡­So, why some things and not others? Merely by looking at it, she commits it to memory. Whoa! That¡¯s a neat trick! EXCAVATION REPORT II ''Bestiary of Falitan'' cr. Art. Falitan of Kabu Falitan, artisan of Dazir, and overseer of the New Work of the Honorable Mage Khaa, beloved and watched by Biracul may he be, has set to record a full tabulation of the beings known to inhabit the Wellspring, both those well known to the Technocraft of Dazir of Old, as well as those to which the New Work has brought to the sight of man¡ªand the Shining One that guides him. May Biracul guide my pen and assure this report''s veracity and comprehensiveness. First, be the Arclights, women said to have lain with the Vanquished and cursed to servitude by them. These creatures will only obey the commands of those carrying the Sigil of Wulfias. With it, we have been masters of the Wellspring since our ancestors conquered it from the Heathen. However, care must be taken when holding or moving the shards that serve as their prisons, given that the Trueflesh of the Arclights within will burn even those loved by Biracul until they stand by his side within the Eye. The glory of the New Work is attested in what we have learned from the Neverborn unearthed from the excavation. These spawn of Famlicus are crafted in the avian form of their progenitor, with the beak of a hawk, taloned feet and clawed hands. Kushkucu has failed in his attempts to perceive their minds, though it may be that the Ruby Jinn has bestowed them with the gift of the Occult Mind of the loathsome Unseen. Thus, I fear these beings will not respond to the Glyph of Wulfias. They bear a resemblance to the idols that are housed within the accursed temple. As, the wisdom of Khaa has unearthed this evil, I beg for his wisdom in guiding us in how to proceed with this new Awareness. I only pray that our people have not been watched with the smoldering eyes of the Enemy all these long years. Eidos looks toward the nearest exit, now close enough to read the placard above it. Temple. I wonder if that¡¯s the temple that Falitan guy was talking about. Only one way to find out. And she moves toward the temple. ___________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Temple Eidos enters a place of hallowed worship. Several crystalline sconces pour their dim, amber light down into the room¡ªthough, this dying incandescence seems to feel gravity''s pull tenfold, leaving the ceiling drowned in a sea of shadows. The room''s center is occupied by a raised altar of some sort, with bowls of offering placed upon it. Most notable of all, perhaps, are the two statues flanking the altar. And I¡¯m guessing those are the Neverborn Falitan was describing. That guy was pretty useful, it seems. They look to be crafted from wood, and clothed in dark raiments. Their form is a hybrid of human shape and avian features. Their feet are clawed with red-accented, ivory talons, and their elongated faces, though veiled in scarves, provide the impression of beaks. But why haven¡¯t they tried to kill me yet? Only one unexplored door leads from here to the ¡®Gate of the Heathen¡¯. The ¡®Heathen¡¯¡­ must¡¯ve been important¡ªdespite the terrible nickname. _____________________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Gate of the Heathen Here, the fruits of death''s labor reach full bloom. It¡¯s much worse when you can see it so clearly¡­ In a well-lit chamber, Eidos finds herself looking upon the festering fragments of what once were the Wellspring''s operators, their dismembered corpses a testament to their failure to escape this cursed place. This chamber had clearly served as the point of entry and egress from the Wellspring. However, the archway leading out hosts not the empty space of a door, but rather a massive and immobile slab of shadowy rock. The dark rock preventing any hope of escape from the Wellspring is wholly unlike the limestone that makes up the environment around her. It seems to be a solid, monolithic chunk of onyx. No abrasions mar its smooth face, yet bloody streaks from the clawing fingers of desperate victims make for gory accents upon its shiny surface. Bodies and body parts pile up in a chaotic heap before the unforgiving barrier. Likely, the folk were crawling over one another struggling to retreat even as they were torn to pieces by some unknown Wellspring horror that perhaps yet lurks in its depths. The few bodies still whole are rent with countless lacerations, as if clawed apart by something distinctly inhuman. I think I¡¯ve had enough of this. Turning her attention to the exits, she sees a placard for the Scriptorium, the first room she visited on this level. This is a loop, then? Guess I have to go back and check the third door in the Living Quarters¡­ Probably should just call them Quarters now, since no one¡¯s ¡®living¡¯ there anymore. Her constant exposure to the bizarre is clearly affecting her mind. Eidos turns back toward the temple whence she came and begins walking toward it. ___________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Temple The temple is just as it was before, save one important exception: the two statues by the altar have vanished. Okay, now we¡¯re getting somewhere. Luin, get ready! She waits, quickly scanning the environs for signs of movement. She sees none. Perhaps there is no danger after all. Guess it¡¯s all in my head¡­ No! This is bullshit! Those statues were there and now they¡¯re not and there are tons of dead bodies and what else could¡¯ve done that?! I mean it¡¯s clear those things are going to try to murder me! Remaining unconvinced that the room is devoid of dangers, she crouches in a corner to observe. All grows quiet. So quiet. But then she hears something. What¡¯s that?! It pounds with impressive regularity. Oh, it¡¯s my heartbeat¡­ But still! Maybe those things are just waiting for me to move! I won¡¯t let them ambush me! Thus, she waits and she waits. Yet despite her constant paranoia, nothing happens. I still think we should wait a little more. But growing tired of her baseless fears, she moves forward, on into the Living Quarters. Fine, body. Just be prepared!Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ___________________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Living Quarters Moving back into the darkness, Eidos¡¯ eyes complain as they strain to make out shapes among the shadows. She moves forward, again avoiding the bodies as best she can. About halfway through the room, a rhythmic clicking begins. Metal on stone echoes throughout the room. Body, listen: you need to run! Giddiness fills her as a vibrant green sword emerges from the void. Luin, for once, I¡¯m happy to see you. Its brilliance banishes the shadows and bathes all in its emerald light. Eidos searches for the source of the clicking, but the echoes make it impossible to locate. The tempo accelerates as a choir of warped, avian cooing joins in the mix, and the source begins to move, growing louder, coming nearer. Eidos¡¯ head spins, frantically looking for her would-be assailants. Louder and louder their song grows. Sweat beads up on her skin, joining into streams pouring down her forehead. Her eye catches a drop of moisture, temporarily blinding her. She blinks to flush it out only to find it is sticky, and distinctly unsweat-like in its texture. Her eyes search toward the ceiling directly above here where she sees two green-washed rubies shimmering among the shadows. Eyes. Inhuman. Aaaahhh! She screams, terror strangling reason. The creature falls on her, like a desert hawk hunting its prey. Luin moves to counter, but the enemy is too elusive, changing direction mid-dive with a mere flap of its wings. Luin gives chase, swiping at the Neverborn creature, missing narrowly each time. Frustration enters the volatile mix of emotions Luin brings, and like a child¡¯s tantrum, Eidos¡¯ mood grows frenzied. She pursues, recklessly swinging, now missing by far wider margins than before. She overextends, losing her balance. A corpse blocks her foot, preventing her recovery. She falls. Suddenly, unspeakable pain surges through her back as Luin vanishes. A sound of glass shattering. Blood streaming. She reaches to touch the wound. Not deep. Another claw takes her in the face. Glass crackling. No blood. How? Eidos soon recognizes a familiar green glow enveloping her skin. Luin as shield¡­ Okay, body, I was wrong. You were right to touch the weird, green crystal! The second statue joins, slashing and cleaving in tandem with its twin. Speed beyond sight, each attack seeks the flesh beneath Eidos¡¯ skin. But their talons are like glass to her diamond skin, and succeed only in breaking themselves. Luin reaches to intercept one of the enemies¡¯ attacks, capturing it by the leg. Its thin limb disintegrates under the force of Eidos¡¯ grip. She swings it by the leg, bringing it crashing into the wall. The creature erupts like a firework into a thousand splinters from the impact, its blue-green blood showering everything in range. Undeterred, its partner prepares for one final attack, propelling itself forward and twisting like a drill, ready to bore a hole through Eidos. Contact. Its force colliding with her impenetrable skin splatters the wall behind her with chunks of its blood and body, clearly marking the outline of its vanquisher. Is it over? There were only two, right? She pants heavily as Luin¡¯s glow dissipates. That was¡­ intense. Another encounter survived; another death avoided. She moves on toward the third and final exit. ___________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Bridge Walking from the corridor, Eidos steps out into a vast fracture in the earth. Huge rock formations tower overhead, and beyond them is a star-studded sky. While cold winds blow all about, the dominant sound is that of water coursing across stone. Okay, so the ravine from before and now I¡¯m going to the side the silver throne thing was on. Directly across the ravine is another cliff face, some hundred paces away. A massive stone bridge connects the distant sides; built of large and roughly hewn granite stones, it is a thing of no great beauty. However, it seems sturdy and well-maintained, if nothing else. For the moment, ¡®safe¡¯ is all I care about. As she nears the midpoint, Eidos looks down and sees the likely source of the water''s sound. Several great currents appear to flow mightily beneath this bridge through three covered channels. Yet she hears activity from only two; the third, the leftmost, is oddly silent, no water coursing through its lonesome ducts. Far below, an enormous and unmoving body of water appears to have once fed the silent channel. Looks like I¡¯m getting closer. She continues forward, across the bridge. After their tireless march, Eidos'' feet find the end of the bridge. The landing laid out beneath her seems seldom used or newly discovered, as moss and plant growth creep up between its stones. Beyond the landing yawns the darkened mouth of a passage deeper into the earth. ____________________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Chamber of Bones Walking into the passage, Eidos feels the full oppression of the cold and damp. Droplets of moisture sprinkle down upon her head as she makes her way toward the faint, flickering light up ahead. Stumbling over the uneven and obscured paving stones, she nears the source of illumination only to discover its grim source: a human skull placed into a hollow in the stone wall. Not the most messed up thing I¡¯ve seen. A single shard of crystalline glass has been placed within the left eye-socket, and it burns with a perpetual yet undulating light. From here, she sees the path taking a sharp turn, leading toward another grisly light cyclops. Passing three such lanterns, dozens of paces separating one from the next, she finally arrives at a larger space, brilliantly illuminated with a powerful array of crystals. In this room, Eidos looks upon the resting place of countless dead. The limestone chamber is simply carved, scores of alcoves lining both sides, each filled with bones. She notes that the remains are sorted according to kind¡ªwhether they be rib, limb, digit or spine. The skulls are venerated above all else, each placed within its own small hollow; each gifted with a shard of shining crystal as a left eye. As she walks forward, it becomes clear that this chamber is larger than it at first appeared. Further wings extend from all sides; yet only two of these are of any note. The first, directly ahead, is a separate room, illuminated by a different species of light, pale white in color; the other is to the side and is significantly dimmed; all others are obstructed by mounds of excavated rock and the tools that moved them. Peeking into the near lightless wing, the recent excavation adequately explains its dim state. Skull-lamps have been scattered throughout a lengthy tunnel, carved deep into the bedrock. Pickaxes and shovels litter the ground, while some human remains have been rather unceremoniously moved to wooden bins. So do they respect these remains or not? And who do these bones belong to anyway? They¡¯re way too dusty to be recent¡­ Turning her attention to the pale room, all she can make out are the outlines of two bulky statues flanking either side of a doorway further into darkness. Dangerous looking and so¡­ She moves to enter the room. ¡­that¡¯s where my body wants to go, clearly. ____________________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Chantry of the Martyr Eidos stands at the threshold of a chamber that at first appearance claims to be some sort of shrine. The room is but a few strides in length, of an unimaginative rectangular dimension, and bare but for two marble statues standing on either side of a simply carved rectangular door, opposite the entrance. Simple as simple can be. Light softly emanates from the statues, as though reflecting the light of a full moon; yet a glance skyward confirms that the ceiling is solid, and lateral glances show it to be utterly windowless. The two figures stand opposite one another as though peering at their own reflections. Within the illusory mirror, identical women dressed for war, each nearly twice as tall as Eidos, lock eyes in front of an unobstructed doorway. Both have a hand resting upon the pommel of their giant swords, while the other is raised toward Eidos, palm facing outwards. They wear expressionless faces, making it impossible to tell if these are gestures of salutation, intimidation, or caution. Eidos walks forward, meeting their icy gaze. Immediately, they begin to wake from their slumber, dropping the cloaks of dust that time has placed upon their shoulders. With the barest whisper of a noise, their outstretched palms lower to grip the hilts of their swords. The warrior figures swiftly¡ªalbeit inelegantly¡ªmove their sandaled feet towards Eidos, as they raise their massive blades on high. In a sudden burst of motion, the marble warriors bring their lustrous swords down, converging upon Eidos. The instant before impact, Eidos can feel her skin harden as Luin responds to her mortal danger. The heavy swords send sparks flying as they scrape down her shielded Falseflesh, but unlike the claws of the first two statues, these weapons do not shatter. Regardless, the pressure from the twinned blows is too great, the force too energetic, and she is violently ejected from the room. ____________________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Chamber of Bones Eidos comes sword-propelled back into the resting hall of the dead. Hundreds of light-giving eyes watch her above their deathly grins as she tumbles back into a wall, rattling the bones within. Her insides feel as though they have been rearranged from the impact, but she yet lives. No further proof is needed to deter her from re-entry. Yes, thank you. Now can we find out how to turn the water on? Oh boy, I hope that¡¯s not the room I have to go to to do it¡­ This leaves but one path to explore: the path toward the excavation site. Eidos is clearly reticent to enter the cramped site, as the mephitic fumes oozing out from the passage launch a coordinated assault on her lungs and nose. That¡¯s foul. But at least it doesn¡¯t smell like it¡¯s dead bodies¡­ and I hate that I know the smell of dead bodies well enough to make that assumption. Soon, she is forced into an excruciating cycle of gasping and dry heaving. Yet, a decision made is an action taken, and thus, she crosses the threshold. ____________________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Excavation Site She is grateful that the fetid tunnel is at least well illuminated. It seems this vault is indebted to the burial room for the skull-lanterns keeping the shadows at bay. Taken from their resting places, they are now made to rest upon staves driven into loosened rubble piles on the floor. Not sure I¡¯d want to made into a lamp when I died¡­ if I could die. No more than twenty paces in, the tunnel widens into an irregularly shaped chamber, bulging here and narrowing there, but never less than fifty paces wide. Nets line the ceiling to catch larger pieces of rubble before someone''s head would have broken their fall. Crates and shelves, scattered tools and, oddly enough, even a desk, account for most of the contents of the room, though its other holdings are certainly more interesting. A number of statues have been left in alcoves that combine avian and human features. Not those things again! Other areas hold fragments of darkened glasses, or perhaps crystal, of various shapes and sizes. The wooden desk in the center of the room appears to have been hauled from elsewhere¡ªno mean feat, given its awkward dimensions and hefty look. Upon it are parchments newly written, made legible by a skull left nearby, its flameless yet burning eye casting long shadows across the room. I can probably read something from there, too. Yet another tunnel exits opposite the one Eidos entered, leading further into the earth. Peering in, she sees that it is simply a crumbling stairwell leading down towards the sound of water. Advancing ten paces or so, the way ahead terminates, broken and ruined, as though the staircase had been simply torn in two. A ways below the broken path appears to be a landing of sorts, and further still, the continuation of the staircase. Beside it, a precipitous drop hugs the edge of a tenebrous subterranean lake. Eidos notices large wooden fragments scattered about on the landing below. They appear to have been ladders at one point, all hastily destroyed. Trying to stop us from going down or something else from coming up? Though jumping down to the landing would prove quite simple, if she does, it will likely be impossible to climb back up, the slick, moss-covered rock. Before continuing down into the depths, she thinks it wise to check the contents of the desk. Never know what you might find. Searching through the papers, Eidos finds something among the writings. A man appears to have been composing a letter before tragedy struck. And again, at a mere glance she commits it to memory. That really is pretty amazing. TO ALIA ''I fear the worst¡­'' cr. Art. Kushkucu of Kabu My dearest Alia, Something must be done to halt the madness of Khaa. While sycophants like Falitan may lick that old vulture''s boots, I was right in my suspicion that this excavation will be the end of us all! Even as we desecrated the Chamber of Bones, our success was ''blessed'' by the Ruby Jinn. Neverborn creatures bearing the mark of Famlicus were unearthed as we dug a path into the underhalls of the Wellspring. Now I know who sees through the smoldering eyes that look upon us from the accursed temple! If Khaa ever does sit upon the rumored Throne of the lower levels, I have no doubt that only desolation awaits. I hope to return home as soon as Khaa''s weekly inspection concludes. It will be good to be among my loved ones again. Would that the Shining One have shone His light upon the shadows blinding Khaa, so that I would never have been tasked with this lunacy! Yours in Biracul, -Kushkucu Not a fan of Faiitan¡¯s it seems. Also, confirms my suspicion that Khaa is a creep. What really happened here? Did Khaa stop the water to get rid of the Tacribians and it backfired? What were these excavations about? Were they the cause of the trouble? Why do these people have to be so frustrating? She stands at the desk, wondering how to proceed. First, I release the water, so the Tacribians don¡¯t slaughter the Dazirans. I don¡¯t care about most of them, but Rada and Serpil seemed nice enough, and the others were annoying but don¡¯t deserve to die¡­ She moves, slowly walking toward the broken stairs. This has to be the way to that Throne. With that and the Sigil of Wulfias, I bet I can control the Wellspring and set things right! Finally starting to feel a sense of purpose, she returns to the edge of the excavation site, ready to complete her task. The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Diplomat — A Task Completed A Task Completed _______________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Deep Lake Eidos leaps down onto the landing, crushing the damp vegetation beneath her weight. The innocent flora is not without recourse, however, for the destructive pressure wrings all moisture from the plants, propelling Eidos¡¯ feet in random directions. The result, naturally, is an intimate encounter with the rocky ground. Owww¡­ Fallen, she sits, pain crawling up her tender rump through her spine and showering out across her entire body in intense sparks of agony. Whatever the consequences of her descent, she has the last laugh as she rises, injured but unbroken, triumphant in arriving at her desired destination. She leaves the question as to whether or not it was worth it for later consideration. Eidos then surveys the surroundings. She now stands a story or two above the edge of a great underground lake. Out on the dark water, she hears the sounds of an invisible oar furtively paddling¡ªthough the darkness has consumed any visual vestige of its operator.Probably some other guardian that¡¯ll try to kill me if it finds me¡­ Best stay as far away from it as possible. Straight ahead, a massive dam rises from the lake, barring passage to the water that impatiently laps up against it. At the rightmost extreme of the dam, a warm amber glow hints at a crystal.That looks like it houses one of those Arclights. To the left, a path extends downward, hugging the cliff face as it leads to a great archway near the opposite end of the bridge. And that looks like a good candidate for a throne room. Let¡¯s head over there, body. And thus, she moves toward the archway and into the chamber beyond it. _______________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Throne Room Eidos enters a pitch darkness. As she proceeds, the echoes from her footfalls clicking on the tiled floor betray the immensity of the chamber. Ten paces in, all shadows are exiled to the realm of memory as countless lights in the floor and ceiling spring to life. The reflective black dome above her, the walls of dark granite, the intricately carved designs in a lattice of forbidden geometries, all of these reveal themselves to her light-shocked eyes. Dammit! My eyes! Rubbing the tears away, Eidos tries to take it all in. But she is somewhat overwhelmed by the grandeur of the place. For a moment, she even feels at a loss, as though she could lose her very Self just from being here¡­ But before long, the spell is broken and she regains her bearings. Examining the dome, she focuses on the large panes of black glass filling in the spaces between the stonework, all trimmed and gilded in a silvery metal. They share a strong resemblance to the ones she encountered in the Sanctuary. I wonder if I¡¯ll be seeing the wolf or Luin creeping around in one of those¡­This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it At the opposite end of the chamber, an enormous and robust door forbids passage with its overlapping metallic scales. The dominant feature of the chamber, however, is the high-backed, silver throne that appears to grow right out of the floor''s center. Yep, this is the place. She approaches the chair. It¡¯s like an unmelted version of the one upstairs. Dragging a finger across the grooves in the armrest, she begins to circle the throne. It has a beauty both flamboyant and austere; just as a silver ingot may shine and sparkle, yet is still simply a hunk of metal, so too does this throne walk the line between simplicity and extravagance. After she completes her round, Eidos sits in the chair. All about her, the dark glass panels spring to life, displaying myriad scattered images, flowing one from the next. However, the panel directly in front of her remains fixed on a single image, frozen in time. This panel shows the body of water she witnessed on her way here. Suddenly, a small but familiar stone column rises from the floor to her right. The column is lined and laced with strands of liquid silver, gently rippling on the surface. Then, the emanation of a thought pulses out from the contraption. A sense of expectation fills Eidos'' mind and a choir of a thousand voices rings out. ¡°onVadhomdheishohWellspringvatohzha. onWulfiaskuArchonohreckish.¡± So I caught ¡®Wellspring¡¯ and ¡®Wulfias¡¯, but the rest is just gibberish¡­ ¡°onmordhohspirishshuiohrrai,¡± continues the voice, crescendoing throughout the chamber. ¡°onvadohulgrrifbozWulfiasuiCorroeohlaikish. ultomaluishtorra''spirohgulgaish. onfuogulgaohboznashdormish. onitamohtomaluish.¡± Again, ¡®Wulfias¡¯ something¡­ uh, oh, I know! Typically, I just have to think about what I want to do, these things¡¯ll just do it for me¡­ unlike my body, where it¡¯s hit or miss with that strategy. ¡°ondheseohArchonvareckish. Ibshuiohcorroevafangish.¡± Abruptly, the choir ceases its chant, but its echoes persist like a fading memory. Did it work? The one frozen image from the dark panel before her revives as a great rumble from outside threatens to stir her innards into mush. Thereupon, the dam lowers, finally releasing the water it had so dutifully kept at bay. The sound of rushing water echoes from outside and into the Throne Room, confirming that the underground lake now rages forward into the aqueduct. Let¡¯s go take a look, body! We wanna make sure this damn water remains unobstructed¡ªso wecan avoid making a second trip. However, soon a different sound from above draws her gaze. From the ceiling, a descending cloudstone reveals a passage skyward. As of instinct she moves toward the cloudstone. Hold up! Look, body, we can come back in and step on the cloudstone after we make sure the water drains, but we might not be able to come back down. She hesitates. You know I¡¯m right, body!She moves toward the archway to first observe the fruits of her labors before leaving to report to Khaa. I do have some questions for that rat bastard, that¡¯s if you decide to cooperate when the time comes, body¡­ No pressure, or anything¡­ Reaching the archway, the roar of rushing water grows deafening. ___________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Dam Eidos exits through the archway, her path dimly lit by a band of faintly twinkling stars in a distant, forgotten sky. Water now violently courses through the opened dam, its bulk no longer repressed by the schemes of man. Eidos cautiously nears the edge to get a better look, but the alliance of splashing water and the mossy hordes has made the path treacherously slippery. Son of a¡­! She falls for Nature''s trap, slipping down and slamming into the baleful rapids. Aaaahhhh! ___________________ The Wellspring ¨C The Aqueduct In and out of consciousness, Eidos feels her body being jostled around violently through a dark and narrow passageway. Only a short time seems to elapse before she finally emerges into the light of day. Squinting her eyes against the sun, she looks up at the sky through a pane of carefully polished glass. She quickly surmises she is now atop an aqueduct and is likely headed for the parched Dawn Fortress¡ªwhose water she now delivers personally. Hopefully I get a heroine¡¯s welcome after all the bullshit I just went through! ...No, wait: amstill going through! After only a few moments, she realizes this structure is clearly not meant for human transport¡ªjust as her head collides with the stony sides of the tube. The impact brings with it an unwanted bout of dreamless sleep¡­ The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Diplomat — An Inevitable Outcome An Inevitable Outcome ________________________ The Dawn Fortress ¨C The Courtyard Eidos awakens. She jerks into motion, but coarse ropes leave painful abrasions as they mercilessly writhe around her wrists and ankles. Oh boy¡­ As far as she can tell, she is now inside a cage in the middle of a dust-covered courtyard with high sandstone walls for as far as the eye can see. This is not the welcome I was expecting for giving these people water. What a bunch of ingrates! Not far from her, a lanky man reclines in one of the corners. All around, the pungent smell of burning flesh permeates the air. Better than rotting flesh, I suppose. Dead bodies are lined up about the courtyard, their hapless handlers just as dead of spirit as the bodies they throw into the fires. The only perceptible signs of life in this city of the walking dead come in the form of ritual incantations and solemn dirges from around the violent and unrelenting roar of the great pyres. At Eidos'' stirring, her fellow prisoner scuttles away like a frightened rabbit. Another weirdo. But at least this one doesn¡¯t seem aggressive. But then an epiphany dawns on him, a realization that now he will have more than just himself to talk to¡ªor talk at? Indeed, a euphoric wash of emotion nearly knocks the ghost clear from his Falseflesh. Then, attempting to correct his posture and feign an air of dignity and composure, the gearwork of his jaw starts to wind up until its inevitable and interminable unwinding at the infelicitous opening of his mouth¡­ ¡°Hmm¡­ So, you''re coming around after all! Ha ha!¡± he says with an imitable joviality. ¡°I request that you take care, stranger; for I¡¯d guess it¡¯d be in our mutual interest to have a companion in exile to the Wasteland!¡± ¡°I appreciate the concern, Mr¡­¡± Eidos replies with a polite smile. ¡°Who me?" he says, legitimately stunned she wants to talk to him at all¡ªmuch less ask his name. "Ho ho! My name is Heyar! I''m a scholar hailing from the township of Dazir!¡± ¡°¡®Hailing from¡¯ meaning we¡¯re not in Dazir, are we?¡± she says more as a statement than a question. ¡°Right as a Muninn is white, my friend!¡± With a hint of a frown, she offers her best guess, ¡°This wouldn¡¯t happen to be the Dawn Fortress then, would it?¡± Heyar¡¯s eyes sparkle like a child¡¯s would standing before a new toy, ¡°Yes! Yes, it is!¡± Then continuing without pause, ¡°As to why a Daziran scholar would be in the very nest of their would-be malefactors,¡± he inhales deeply, ¡°it¡¯s because to the lover of knowledge, all places grant Awareness! We must leave no knowledge undiscovered! No thought unthought! No truth unveiled! Wait¡­ no, not that¡­ No un-truth unveiled! Yes, that¡¯s better. ¡°And as to why I happen to be imprisoned,¡± he takes another deep breath, ¡°well, my crime was trespassing in the fortress Archives without permission¡­¡± He pauses dramatically and assuming the air of a renegade, ¡°And for my troubles, I am to be exiled to the Wasteland! Ha ha!¡± If I were going to be exiled to a place called ¡®the Wasteland¡¯, I wouldn¡¯t be laughing¡­ poor bastard. Heyar then looks at Eidos with a delightfully devious grin and adds, ¡°And I''d assume a woman heralded as the bringer of Tacribian genocide would deserve a punitive response of at least equal measure, dare I say!¡± What!? ¡°Me!? The bringer of Tacribian genocide?!¡± Eidos shouts incredulously, ¡°But all I did was release the water!¡± Anger welling up within her, she presses, ¡°If anything, I saved these people from a death by thirst!¡± Shocked at the outburst, Heyar nervously averts his gaze. ¡°Oh! Well, by Biracul''s beard! Perhaps you truly are blameless after all! Ha ha! ¡°For the past few weeks,¡± he continues, his storyteller¡¯s enthusiasm yet undeterred, ¡°the folk of the Dawn Fortress have been on the brink of thirst¡ªit¡¯s true! This is because the Wellspring aqueduct leading here grew dry, its flow unflowy!Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Naturally many suspected Khaa was behind this treachery¡­¡± he pauses, waiting for her to come upon the natural questions that arise from such a statement and to think on their implications. Then, looking deeply into her eyes, he renews his tale, ¡°But with the Gate of Celestial judgment preventing the Tacribians from mob justice,¡± he raises a finger from his bound hands high in the air, ¡°they were forced to slake their thirst with the meager rations the Tambulans could afford to hand out¡ªinstead of with Daziran blood!¡± he adds with an awkward wink. ¡°All hope was lost! Their doom was at hand!!¡± he exclaims, exuberance lacing every syllable. Heyar looks down at the ground with a false finality, betrayed by his giddy smile. This guy¡¯s too easy to read. Come on; out with it, Heyar! Continue your story. ¡°But then, as their Trueflesh began tugging at the frayed tatters of the False,¡± he says, slowly raising gaze, his scholar¡¯s scrutiny, towards Eidos, ¡°As they prepared for the final march into the Grays! Out of nowhere came a torrent of fresh water, bearing their supposed salvation along with a strange, half-drowned outlander¡­¡± ¡°¡®Supposed salvation¡¯?¡± Eidos says, finally chiming in. ¡°Indeed! Their celebration was short lived! For you see, the water bore a deadly corruption,¡± his voice squeaks from the excitement, ¡°which was only discovered after they''d all become quite intoxicated by the author of their death! ¡°It seems their contempt for my life and well being became an ironic blessing¡­¡± he muses, ¡°as they had already given me my daily skin of water, and intended to give me no more until the morrow! Ha ha! Splendid!¡± A rhythmic pounding abruptly echoes throughout the courtyard. Eidos looks up to see a regimented procession advancing into the courtyard. Led by a cadre of drummers, a line of individuals walks towards a central dais. At the line¡¯s head is a muscular, yet ancient man, with a young but stately lady following close in train. The guard standing nearby turns and begins unlocking the cage. Before long, several guards reach in and take Eidos to kneel before the dais. The old man and his attendants sit upon the platform as his female companion approaches Eidos. She takes a place standing close by and slowly, she reaches out a hand, placing it upon the crown of Eidos'' head. The drumming ceases, and the man begins to speak. ¡°The accused will speak her name¡ªfor what is known to Biracul, shall be known to his servants and preserved for those that would come later.¡± Though he speaks with the weary tone of a burdened leader, his words hit like a hammer, compelling all in the area to listen¡ªor else. ¡°I choose not to answer.¡± That¡¯s right! Don¡¯t comply with these assholes that locked us up for helping! As the words leave Eidos'' lips, a sudden, stabbing pain cracks open her mind. Flashes of white and black. A dizzying sense of displacement. Images once blurred take form. Thoughts once muddy gain clarity. Unwillingly, Eidos sees herself upon the metallic platform of the Sanctuary''s Awakening Chamber. Involuntarily, an indistinct whimper escapes her throat. Inexorably, her name bubbles to the surface of her consciousness and out through the mouth of the woman whose hand now robs her mind of privacy¡­ ¡°¡­¡®Eidos. My name is Eidos.¡¯¡­¡± her voice, though just as emotionally worn as her master¡¯s, retains a warmth and comfort like a candle in the dark. The man continues, ¡°Where do you come from?¡± Eidos replies with silence. ¡°¡­¡®I awoke far from here, underground, the Sanctuary¡­ I remember nothing before this awakening.¡¯¡­¡± Dammit! Stop reading my mind! Pausing to ponder, the man soon presents the formal accusation, ¡°You have been borne to the Dawn Fortress on a torrent of corrupted water, and already, the jinnvenom works its ruin in our Falseflesh. It will not be long before we all walk the Graylands with Ark.¡± A sudden flaring of rage brings fire to his eyes and lights his voice ablaze, ¡°Now speak! Was this doom of your making?!¡± ¡°¡­¡®Yes, I compelled the Wellspring to release the water.¡¯¡­¡± No, I didn¡¯t know it was poisoned! The mind reader frowns, delving deeper into Eidos¡¯ mind as though she were flipping through the pages of an open book searching for something. ¡°¡­¡®Though I did not know it would result in your deaths.¡¯¡­¡± Yes, tell him, Logira! ¡­Logira? Why do I know her name? Logira hesitates, weighing whether or not she should add a final thought Eidos brought to mind. ¡°¡­¡®Look, I only wanted to help!¡¯¡­ Master Khlutt, it seems she was just being manipulated by Khaa.¡± Yes! Thank you! Ignoring the comment, Khlutt proceeds, ¡°For what purpose? What design is in our deaths?¡± Eidos, finally breaking her silence, stares her judge down and with a coolness like the calm before a storm replies, ¡°I was made to believe it was the only way to preserve life in Kabu.¡± Khlutt looks to his mind reader for confirmation. She nods. After a brief silence, he asks his final questions of her, ¡°What creature do we look upon? What is your aim in realms seen and unseen? Speak the truth! All is revealed under the eye of Biracul.¡± The storm erupts. Oh no¡­ What are they going to do to me? Tears pour down her face in a bitter deluge, and a torrent of emotions spills to the surface like water breaking through a cracked dam. I didn¡¯t ask for this! My body just goes where it wants and does stupid shit I can¡¯t control! Between sobs, she announces with her cracking voice, ¡°I wish I had never been born!¡± Her words echo across a stunned courtyard. Even Khlutt¡¯s authoritative facade cracks, revealing the shock and regret of sacrificing the innocent. For a moment, it even seems as though his expression softens. But soon the hardness creeps back into his wrinkled features. He has come too far; his people need someone to blame for their miserable end. Khlutt then rises from his seat to begin pronouncing his sentence, ¡°Men and women of Tacriba!¡± He looks out over the meager crowd of survivors. ¡°While I know many of you would seek to have this foul creature suffer the most horrific punishments a Jinn could devise, I decree we let her stand as a living testament!¡± It doesn¡¯t matter¡­ nothing good comes from living. ¡°We are the last true children of Biracul! Let us send this message into the void as our forebearers did in the days of Ark!¡± Khlutt nods his head and turns to leave. The drummers strike their instruments, as a guard unlocks the cage behind her, extracting a bound Heyar from it. The two are led wordlessly to the threshold, the ponderous drumming of Khlutt''s attendants the only sound breaking the otherwise solemn silence. The black iron gates reluctantly open with a metallic yawn. When the two prisoners arrive at the gates¡¯ threshold, their bonds are untied and they are thrust out onto the burning sands at spearpoint. The gates begin to close begrudgingly, groans of iron on iron voicing its complaints¡­ The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Diplomat — A Death Unmerited A Death Unmerited __________________________ The Wasteland ¨C The Gates of Dawn The Gates of Dawn stand shut, their heavy, black iron doors resolute and immobile. Flanked on either side by imposing sandstone watchtowers, the slits in the side of these structures make it clear that hidden eyes peer at her from beyond. Motionless, they watch, tracking every breath, every blink of her eyes. I¡¯m tired of this¡­ of everything. All about her is a landscape of lifeless desolation, dust and sand, dusty sand, and nothing but. As Eidos takes in the severity of her situation, Heyar turns to look at her. The Daziran scholar now wears a jubilant smile spread across his face, and wringing his hands with pent-up excitement, he addresses her, ¡°Hmm¡­ I spy Ark¡¯s Beacon off there to the east; quite a trip, I dare say¡ªthen again, anywhere in this strange land would be! Ha ha!¡± Her silence speaks for itself. Though the mind is not the body, its effects are noticeable, indeed. Undeterred¡ªor possibly just oblivious to her misery¡ªHeyar proposes, ¡°I say we¡ªyou and myself, that is¡ªtackle the Wasteland together!¡± He lets out a nervous laugh. The diplomat in Eidos awakens, sensing she may yet make the best of this terrible situation. ¡°Your brawn and my brain,¡± he continues, ¡°might just get us through long enough to learn something! And who¡¯s to say what marvels we¡¯ll witness along the way!? What say you, Eidos?¡± ¡°It¡¯d be my pleasure,¡± she says with a weak smile, knowing any company is preferable to the crippling solitude the Wasteland seems to promise. Elation blooms within the scholar¡¯s pasty features, pulling the corners of his mouth nearly to his eyes. ¡°Splendid!¡± And, with a reckless abandon, he adds, ¡°This is the last frontier! The finest Wasteland of our humble Kaban region! Filled to its dusty brim with knowledge! Let us depart at once, old chum!¡± As Eidos and Heyar shake hands, she feels the Daziran¡¯s sweaty palm quiver with anticipation. His grin grows so wide it seems as though his face might tear in half. Eidos withdraws her sweat-soaked hand, the faint look of revulsion on her face sculpted by instinct. But Heyar, swimming in his blissful obliviousness, has already crouched to examine the gray stones peeking out from beneath the sand, seeming to have utterly forgotten about his new companion. Eidos looks once more at the gates, and they simply return her gaze with their Cyclopean stare, locked in this battle of wills for an eternal instant. But Eidos budges before the gate, conceding that this path is now closed to her. Thus, she turns her attention to the Wasteland now breathing at her back. Out in the Wastes, life lost the battle long ago, and not even the bones of animals or the husks of plants remain to prove there was ever a struggle at all. The ground near the gate is a parched mosaic of cobbled gray stone, gradually consumed by dust and sand. Deeper into the Wastes, the blistering heat distorts the air all about, making it difficult to distinguish distant features of the land despite the clear, pale sky. Even still, two landmarks manage to catch her eye. To the east, opposite the Kaban townships, she sees a wavering spire seeming to melt in and out of view from the heat of the intervening sands, almost as though its very existence were uncertain. Unlike the silver spire she saw upon first emerging from the Sanctuary, this one is utterly unreflective, distinguishing itself from the surroundings solely by the darkness of its color. To the southwest is a more inscrutable feature. A blackened yet reflective surface seems to alternate between stealing light and casting it back out into the desert. It has the look of a distant pool of dark water, though brief moments of clarity show that it is eerily still. She looks down at the Daziran scholar, seeking to discuss their subsequent destination. He simply stares up at her with a stupid grin. Eidos finally breaks the awkward silence, ¡°Heyar, I¡­¡± ¡°Yeeeess, Lady Eidos?¡± ¡°¡­I was wondering where we should go¡­ Maybe we should look for a source of food or water¡­¡± The scholar looks stunned. ¡°Oh¡­ Ha ha! I¡¯m not sure. Hmm¡­ Though, I think it¡¯s impossible! We were sent here to die horrific deaths, after all! Ho ho!¡± Eidos looks at him, incredulous, ¡°What?! How can you be so upbeat when you think you¡¯re going to die?!¡± ¡°Oh, well that much is obvious! I¡¯m excited to witness the many sights few among the living ever get to witness! Ho ho!¡± Eidos¡¯ shoulders slump. We should just end it for him now, you know¡­ minimize his suffering. Her body shoots up straight, appalled at the darkness of the emotions washing over it. ¡°But¡­¡± Heyar continues, ¡°Most exiles are said to head to Ark¡¯s Beacon off to the east, in desperate search of succor!¡± Then, again grinning his stupid scholar¡¯s grin, he adds, ¡°But those people are just ¡®suckers¡¯ if you ask me! Ho ho! ¡°Let¡¯s not follow the herd, dear Eidos! Let¡¯s make for the Obsidian Ruin off to the southwest, instead!¡± he suggests excitedly. ¡°There are few records of what lies beyond it, but I¡¯ve always suspected it leads into the Crescent Canyon itself!¡± ¡°What¡¯s so interesting about a canyon?¡± The Daziran¡¯s eyes widen in shock and dismay. ¡°Why¡­ why it¡¯s because that¡¯s the legendary resting place of Ark! She and the Jinnwraith battle eternally at the interstice between our plane and the Grays¡­ Hmm¡­ that doesn¡¯t sound much like a ¡®resting place¡¯ then, does it? Ho ho! ¡°But it¡¯s not just culturally significant! Canyons form as the result of erosive processes from persistent river flows! There we can examine the myriad unique rock formations left behind by ancient rivers and rivulets!¡± Suddenly it dawns on her, ¡°Wait, did you say rivers?¡± ¡°Indeed, and¡­¡± ¡°Then that¡¯s where we¡¯ll go!¡± she says, interrupting him. ¡°Maybe there are other exiles there who had the same idea.¡± ¡°Perhaps,¡± he agrees, eagerly adding, ¡°But even if there aren¡¯t, there¡¯s so many historical sights to see! Let¡¯s make like Torma and explore!¡± With a nod and a smile, they make their way to the southwest and toward the Obsidian Ruin, all while Heyar regales Eidos with the rather lengthy history of Kabu. ___________________ The Wasteland ¨C The Obsidian Ruin Eidos and her companion trudge across the cracked earth of the Wastes, white dust blowing all about. Slowly, the shining pool of darkness they aim for draws nearer, though their increasing proximity does little to reveal its true nature. Indeed, it is not until she is nearly upon the site that she can see it for the stone it is, rather than the tenebrous liquid it purported to be. Sunken into the ground here is a massive formation of charred, reflective obsidian. While at first it looks to be a natural formation, its sides and dimensions are too regular, its design too perfect for Nature to take the credit. Looking down into the abyssal black of the ancient ruin, Eidos observes an infinity of concentric angles, each reflecting what little light finds its way downward. This entire formation appears to have acted as a foundation for some superstructure in times immemorial, and further inspection unveils a stairwell carved out of the shiny rock leading down into its depths. ¡°¡­And then! Khloud of the Valvorthr became the first mage of the Dawn For¡­ Oooo!! The Obsidian Ruin!!¡± squeals Heyar only just noticing they had arrived. Scanning off to the west over the edge of the ruin, Eidos sees a desiccated riverbed lying far below¡ªlikely an entrance to the adjacent canyon. It seems likely that successfully navigating this ruin might indeed give access to a path into the Crescent Canyon. ¡°Looks like you were right, Heyar,¡± Eidos concludes looking towards the canyon. Then she frowns, adding, ¡°But it looks like the water¡¯s all dried up. Maybe we¡¯ll get lucky and find a lake in the canyon itself.¡± ¡°Ohhh! What are we waiting for then?!¡± he says as he scuttles down the stairs. Eidos slowly follows, walking down the glossy black stairs instead of rushing. The sound of footfalls on stone reflect back from all directions, casting the ears into an aural labyrinth. The effect only becomes more pronounced as the walls gradually encroach upon her personal space. After a hundred steps, the ambient temperature cools, sheltered from the blistering heat of the desert sun. And yet, she feels a trickle of warmth run down her arm. She has been cut, her clothes lacerated cleanly and painlessly by a sharp edge on one of the walls. The wound is shallow and scabs quickly, leaving a purplish shield on her pale skin to protect itself. Maybe that idiot Heyar got cut and is bleeding to death somewhere¡­ a meaningless death after an equally meaningless life.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Every movement in this place is perilous, with razor-sharp glass threatening her from every direction. Yet, with care, she is able to descend with minimal harm. Sudden movement attracts her attention. Turning towards a cracked column, Eidos looks upon a pair of burning yellow eyes. The beast is a wolf, though the darkness of its fur nearly renders the predator invisible to her eye. A guttural growl escapes its throat and its lips peel back in a snarl, revealing pearly fangs studded in ruby droplets. The menacing noise rumbles like distant thunder, vibrating blood and drool as they stream down into its matted fur. In a flash, it lopes off. Eidos tries to follow, but soon loses track of it. From the corner of her eye, she spots a new vision. A child. The youth is draped in a tattered, white garment, its green glow tempered by dull splatters of blood, as though it had been drenched in a baptism of violence. Yet for all the gore, an angelic smile remains fixed upon its delicate face, a smile belying utter joy. Eidos looks upon the face of the child and knows in her mind¡¯s eye that it innocently longs to bathe in her blood as well. Go ahead, Luin. I couldn¡¯t care less, at this point! But Luin soon vanishes leaving just her reflection on the glassy wall. Eidos cautiously approaches, though as she moves, the reflection remains still. Soon, she reaches the wall and extends a hand to trace the form of her unmoving Self within the mirrored surface. In the space of a thought, the face transforms: from her own gracious smile into a detached deadpan, then into a cunning grin, and then into a tyrannical scowl, next into curious eyes, and at last into a crazed cackle. Eidos recoils from the prophetic visions of her Self. She begins to run. Away from the visions. Away from the emotions. Propelled by terror, she flees from her nemeses. Scrambling frantically to the bottom of the ruin, Eidos feels the sharp obsidian slice into her flesh. Rushing. Stumbling. Even forgetting to breathe. Gasping for air, she casts a panicked glance behind her shoulder, revealing¡­ Nothing. Well, nothing, but the bumbling scholar, now somehow behind her, in hot pursuit. But, whatever she had seen within the cracked foundations is no longer visible. A second glance at her clothes and skin reveals that the lacerations were equally illusory. Heyar now simply stares at Eidos with a quizzical gaze and eagerly waits to see what she will do next. ¡°What¡¯re¡­we¡­ running¡­from¡­?¡± the Daziran asks between heavy breaths. Eidos, looking back once more, remembering the fear, simply replies, ¡°From whatever¡¯s inside me, Heyar.¡± She turns to exit the reflective ruin, a confused yet intrigued Heyar close on her heels. ___________________ The Wasteland ¨C The Crescent Canyon The walls of a gargantuan canyon tower overhead, locked in a lengthy and ultimately futile staring match, like two brothers competing for a vacuousclaim to superiority. Their kinship likely runs deep, as every fold, every curve on one side of the canyon has a corresponding protrusion or convex counterpart mirrored on the other. Torn asunder by the hands of gods, these perfectly opposing siblings now spend eternity in each other¡¯s antagonistic company. Evidence of an ancient riverbed pours forth from the canyon as well, with water-rounded stones strewn about leading to a southern precipice. The sheer drop here is of an impressive magnitude and the long-dead waterfall that once fell from this ledge appears to have cut a path straight down to the bottom of the butte Kabu rests upon. Peering over the edge, Eidos spots a bridge halfway down uniting an incline coming out of the eastern crater with the western mountains. Down the slope towards the east are some flatlands, bleached whiter than bones. Suddenly, the canyon mouth rudely belches dust and sand at Eidos and her companion. Fighting to stay upright, they dig their feet into the grainy floor and shield their eyes with upraised forearms. Once the gale subsides, smaller gusts echo through the canyon like mocking laughter as the eyeless face of the canyon stares down at what it hopes will be its next meal. Eidos and Heyar wend their way through the twisting path of the canyon¡ªa long, warped passage, smoothed by the water that must have flowed through here once upon a dream. The rusted rock formations all about thankfully shelter them from heat and wind, though as payment they take their vision, never allowing more than a fifty pace stretch of unobstructed sight. And before long, they lose all sense of direction. Countless breaths pass their lips and countless prints leave their feet before they come upon the first landmark in this quiet place; and it seems likely to be the last. Rounding a bend, the canyon widens out, setting their vision free for an unfathomable expanse in the six directions. ¡°Look! It¡¯s Heaven¡¯s Bridge!¡± exclaims the ecstatic scholar. ¡°To think that I would live to see it from this hidden angle! Ho ho!¡± Far off in the distance, the dying afternoon sun reflects off a leviathanic bridge as it slithers the span of the canyon in an uninterrupted arcing motion. Thousands ofinterlocking plates, shiny as polished mirrors, coat the bridge like some kind of enormous metallic serpent. Perhaps most stunning, however, is that the structure miraculously lacks any and all supports. It simply rests there as though suspended from the sky itself. ¡°Lo and behold! The towers of night and day!¡± proclaims the scholar with great fanfare. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the Moon Tower thousands of times before, but from here it is a thousand times more beautiful still!¡± While the canyon¡¯s western side hosts the brilliant splendor of a shining silvered spire, the eastern termination is host only to the ruined stump of its kin. The remains of the golden sister tower have long since toppled to the canyon floor, far below the bestial bridge. ¡°Oh! And its fallen twin! The Sun Tower! How I long to walk its ruined halls!¡± Turning to the opposite side of the canyon and pointing, he squeaks, ¡°And look! It¡¯s the Tambulan Bone Pile over there! Oh, Eidos! This was the best idea ever! I¡¯m so glad we¡¯re traveling together!¡± he says as he skips off to explore. Looking across the gorge to where Heyar pointed, Eidos spies a series of caves honeycombing the far cliff face and a mountain of white piled on a ledge halfway down to the canyon floor, but both lie well beyond her reach; for, while her eyes are now free to wander where they may, her feet have been sharply constrained: not far from where she stands, the canyon floor is sharply cut asunder by a second, deeper fissure in the earth¡¯s skin. Staring down from its edge, Eidos sees that the steep drop is both unclimbable and unsurvivable¡ªevidenced by the shadows consumption of the fissure¡¯s greater depths. The dastardly recursive canyons within canyons, ripping the floor apart, insist on destroying all continuity of possible paths. Maybe I should just jump in¡­ but then I¡¯ll just end up in the Sanctuary again, won¡¯t I? Turning her attention to the immediate surroundings, Eidos looks about the wide shelf affording her this panoramic view. She quickly spots Heyar milling about the area, presumably searching for some spectacular ¡®discovery¡¯ in a random pile of rocks. Off to the side, against the canyon wall is a simple lean-to and the ashes of a dead campfire. Further up, nearer the ledge, is a crude shrine built of dark stone. Eidos sees a small bundle of rags and cloth appears to have been placed before this altar, but a second glance betrays the form of the person hidden within the rags;an old woman lies prostrate before the holy site, remaining still as death. Eidos approaches with a friendly, reassuring smile. As she nears the woman, Eidos notices that the shrine is a stump of dark granite, its glistening black surface a contrast to the rusty sandstone native to the area. From its center, a gentle stream of water flows out and down the stone itself. Nestled into three hollows, carved just above the water¡¯s exit, are three distinct objects. The first is an oval carved in marble of the purest white, veins of coppery green snaking through it. A simply hewn, but richly crafted black granite disk is embedded within the oval. And upon the disk, a woman in flowing robes with green spear and raised hand are depicted with such care as if to suggest she could step from the piece at any moment. The eyes in particular seem filled with life, intellect and foreboding. In the second hollow, a wooden plate sits propped up on its edge. Bothcrudeand grotesque, it is whittled from worm-gnawed timber and its eating surface is painted with a black tar. The third and final space is filled with a metal chalice, roughly cast from pewter, or its kin. It seems unremarkable in comparison to the other objects. However, it emanates an aura of danger, as if to warn Eidos never to drink from it nor any of its ilk. Suddenly, the woman begins to chant, ¡°The Waste is but a path and I am a mere traveler on that path! ¡°I¡¯ll not fear the Unseen of the Waste, for their deaths brin¡¯ glory to the brothers of Biracul! ¡°I¡¯ll rejoice at the sight of the draugnir, for they test the sisters of Ark! ¡°I¡¯ll not turn away from the Jinns of the desert, for they¡¯re flames, catchin¡¯ the Eye that gives sight to the One! Growing in intensity, she proclaims, ¡°Biracul, turn your Eye to me and I¡¯ll awaken from my sleep! ¡°Ark, brin¡¯ me your spear and I¡¯ll make a feast for you to roast in the fire imperishable! ¡°I¡¯ll fulfill the covenant and feast on the soup of shadows! ¡°On my watch, no Jinnwraith¡¯ll ever prevail!¡± she squeals, bathing in the ecstasy of her religious fervor. Eidos cautiously approaches, ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid; I mean you no harm.¡± Why not? She¡¯s probably just going to try to harm us. ¡°Hmmm? Unless you be the Jinnwraith reborn, I think you no draugnir,¡± says the woman, drawing away from Eidos. ¡°Does an Unseen stand before me as yet untaken by the breath of nightmare?¡± ¡°An Unseen? I don¡¯t know what¡­¡± ¡°No, you don¡¯t have the look of a Kaban from any township. A wayfarer then, passin¡¯ into this plane from parts unknown.¡± Sensing an opportunity, Eidos follows the old woman¡¯s lead, ¡°You¡¯re right! I¡¯m not from around here. What can you tell me about this place?¡± Not yet convinced, the cagey hag stares at her suspiciously, but answers, ¡°You stand at a most holy site! It was on yonder bridge that the Jinnwraith Rikharr came to destroy us, and before it stands the scab left by the Sun Tower¡¯s destruction!¡± Then, as if beginning a lecture she had recited a thousand times prior, ¡°But Ark broke their forces in return, chasin¡¯ them back to the depths of the Graylands! ¡°Here, I keep my vigil! At the very site of her descent! Until I¡¯m called upon to fulfill my oath as Valvorthr! ¡°And so we shall continue to do, until the return of our Lady!¡± Let¡¯s kill her, before she kills us! Luin, you know you want to! Eidos tries to rein in her sudden bloodlust, ¡°And was the prayer you were reciting just now for your lady?¡± ¡°¡­Yes! The ¡®Twilight Litany¡¯! The words to steel our hearts against the enemies of Ark and the Dawn! ¡°As Biracul watches over us from the Eye of Heaven, so too does Ark guard our souls in the Graylands!¡± Come on! Let¡¯s do it! It¡¯s not like it matters. Nothing matters. ¡°Here, I keep my vigil! At the very site of her descent! Until I¡¯m called upon to fulfill my oath as Valvorthr!¡± repeats the woman. ¡°And so we shall continue to do, until the return of our Lady!¡± Do it body. Kill her. Luin! Get out here! Eidos¡¯ hands take on an emerald glow. ¡°No!¡± Every fiber of Eidos¡¯ diplomatic being screams in horror. The old woman looks on in awe as Luin manifests as a shimmering green sword. The woman bows before Eidos. ¡°Lady Ark! It¡¯s you! We knew you¡¯d return! We, your faithful Valvorthr!¡± She kisses the ground three times. ¡°Your servant Karra awaits your every command!¡± ¡°¡­nooo¡­¡± Eidos weeps weakly, as her hand lowers Luin¡¯s blade, freeing Karra¡¯s neck from her shoulders. Yes! Heyar looks on in shock, smiling nervously. But Luin soon finds itself piercing the scholar¡¯s gut. Eidos then kicks the scholar off the blade and into the abyss at the bottom of the canyon. ¡°¡­why¡­?¡± she sobs falling to her knees. I¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ it¡¯s just so unfair! Everything about this place is unfair! She scrambles to Karra¡¯s corpse, and buries her face in the rags. What¡¯re you doing? Stop it! Eidos wails uncontrollably, bathing the body in her tears, ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I¡¯m so sorry¡­¡± No! I didn¡¯t do anything wrong! These people are wrong! This place is wrong! You¡¯re wrong, body! ¡°I didn¡¯t want to hurt you¡­¡± Eidos hugs the old woman tightly, spilling forth the contents of her rags¡ªa wooden tube and an obsidian dagger. See! She was armed! She would¡¯ve tried to hurt me! Eidos simply weeps. She would¡¯ve¡­ hurt me¡­ would have¡­ Oh, no... What have I done? The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Diplomat — An Ending An Ending __________________ The Wasteland ¨C The Vedt Eidos opens her eyes to find she is trudging through the burning sands of the northern Wastes. How she arrived here, she cannot recall. Grasped tightly in either hand are the personal effects that spilled out from her victim¡¯s rags, the small wooden tube and the obsidian dagger. I killed her. She had slain several inhuman Neverborn up to this point, but never before had she taken a human¡¯s life. Her total loss of control to the forces inside her shook Eidos to the core. But even despite the constant tragedies and perpetual failures that befall her, she moves forward. Gone forever. The terrain evens out into a flat plateau. Yet, while Eidos is now spared the exertion of steep ascents, the unrelenting wind is likewise free of impediment. Soon, a deadly mixture of fine particles and razor-sharp sand is conjured up from the ground, spiraling all about her. Eidos is forced to shield her unprotected eyes against the stinging cyclones of glassy assailants. And I did it. Up ahead, through the whirling veil of dust and sand, she can make out a forest of white pillars, salty giants rising up from the desert wastes with a regularity belying their artificial nature. And yet the forest is vast, utterly beyond the reach of man. My body tried to stop it. Several hundred rhythmic thuds of her feet against the sand carry her closer to the sleeping giants. Nearby, a quick flash catches Eidos'' eye. Between her and the salt pillars, a massive mound half-buried in a dune of silt and sand enters her awareness. It appears to be a calcified mound with hints of cobalt blue beneath, shimmering in the midday sun. I¡¯m the murderer. Drawing nearer, she realizes the mound is no natural feature of the land. It looks to be the desiccated remains of a long-dead creature. Walking around it some twenty paces, Eidos sees only part of its head and spine clawing through a sandy outer crust, like the fleeing bones of a man unaware of his own death. The sight sparks a memory. The memory of a beast named Gurgadon and its tomb within the Wellspring. Reaching a hand to its lower jaw, she gently caresses it, ¡°Why must everything die?¡± Why can¡¯t I? The beast¡¯s maw alone is enormous, like a cave entrance with stalactites and stalagmites piercing inward from all sides. Covered in its entirety by a white crust, all vestiges of the cobalt theoretically beneath remain hidden. This whiteness is distinct from the sands, but carries a striking resemblance to the pillars of the forest behind her. Seeking to fit the whole creature within her field of view, Eidos backs away from the beast''s mouth, and in so doing, nearly falls into a sudden depression in the sand. The displaced chunk appears to have collapsed down onto a lower shelf, a place she could certainly descend to, but would equally certainly be unable to return from. Beneath her feet, the ground is formed from writhing, snaking patterns of what looks to be impacted salt, melted together under immense heat or pressure. Jutting up from this surface are jagged spikes of ever-increasing height, composed of the same white crystalline material that seems to cover the pillars. These spikes lead from the creature¡¯s open mouth out into the east and merge with the salt pillars below. She again regards the beast. The calcified layer atop the metallic husk seems to have been a trait acquired postmortem. It cracks away at random intervals, flaking off and rejoining its dusty brethren upon the desert floor. What is visible of the carcass shows the dying reflections of large segmented plates, dulling with age. Numerous gashes and puncture wounds provide a look into this beast''s violent life, as well as its equally violent end. Peering into one of the wounds, the meager rays of the waning sun unveil pools of blue liquid welled up within. Yet the sun is weak and frightened to reach deeper into this dark and deathly domain. Feeling like a fading flame, Eidos plops down on the sand and rests her back against the fallen beast. She needs to think. She needs to decide where to go from here. The diplomat in her wants to seek out people, to help them. But when she tries to help, she only ends up hurting. ¡°I can¡¯t be trusted around people.¡± She sighs, unintentionally relaxing her grip on the two items she carried from the canyon. They fall to the sands, the dagger sticking upright in the ground and the wooden tube popping open to reveal a worn piece of vellum hidden within. Eidos hesitates, wondering if she should read the words of the woman she killed. ¡°But what if it¡¯s her last will? Then I could help grant her dying wish.¡± She adds with an ironic smile, ¡°It¡¯d be better than leaving things as they are.¡± Thus, in search of a possibility for atonement, she reads. MANUAL OF THE VALVORTHR ¡®The Three Trials¡¯ cr. Khloud of Kavu The path of the Valvorthr, should one survive, will lead to judgment by Our Lady. Any who meet the stone-cold gaze of the twinned Arks will be slain. Only through the annihilation of the mind can these Neverborn be appeased. Then will come the Nattverthr: the Holy Supper at which the Valvorthr must dine. But no sustenance will be upon at that table. Instead, one must sup upon the soup of shadows. Third and last will come the Libation. But do not be deceived! Sip not from that charnel cup of silver, or you will have made a pact with the accursed Famlaz and be banished to the Crimson Field beyond the Graylands. Rather, with the Three Trials overcome, you will drink deep of the Living Chalice and abide forever in the home of Our Lady, keeping faithful watch over the Enemy until her return! Eidos lets the vellum slip from her fingers and fall to the ground, her open hands reaching up to cup her face. She cries once more for Karra. But this time, she cries only the few tears she has left. Tears will not move her feet. Tears will not keep her from further tragedy. Wiping her eyes, she stands and looks out into the pillars of the salt forest to the east. There is nothing more she can do here. No more tears to cry. No more time to regret. Thus, she resolves to enter the unknown in search of purpose. Thus, she decides to move on. _____________________ The Wasteland ¨C The Salt Forest Eidos descends with unwanted swiftness, the grit of granulated crystal causing her to slide uncontrollably, straight down the steep incline. A rather abrupt metamorphosis transforms the steep incline into a sheer drop, casting Eidos into a pile of loose salt below. The resulting impact sends a dull thud echoing through the rising white pillars all around her. The echoes reflect and collide, eventually enveloping Eidos in their mocking laughter. Looking up, the ledge appears to be just shy of twice her height away from the pile. As she suspected, there is no going back now. The sound of the crash lingers in the air, but soon races away from her, and this decrescendo highlights her labored breaths. Rising from the pile, the grating sound of salt on salt again fills the environs with weak but sharp reverberations. She steps into the forest, every step, every action answered back by magnified distortions echoing off the massive pillars around her. Her view widens to take in her environment. Yet, her vision meets nothing but the rough surfaces of the pale columns, the spaces between each pillar filled by other pillars deeper into the forest. In every direction, white columns of milky crystal impede her vision. Even the sky above is obscured by the chalky giants looming over her. However, the stark whiteness of the scene also highlights the fine particles of black dust drifting between the milky quartzite trunks with a speed that defies the stillness of the air. These particles never settle but instead glide through space as though buoyed up by invisible currents and eddies. The absence of unique landmarks make one direction as good as any other, and as such she heads to her right, to find the southern edge of the forest. As the crunch of her footfalls reverberate through the desolate environs, it is not long before the ledge whence she descended has vanished from her sight. Walking ever deeper into the forest, the canopy of salt pillars blinds her to the world outside. Even the hour of day is lost to her, yet all is illuminated, as the ghostly stone shapes around reflect light from sources unseen. Then, Eidos'' vision blurs and her stomach churns. The world starts to spin. Her very thoughts seem to fade, as if slowly eroding in an unseen current. While her surroundings now seem cast in even starker relief, the Glyphs within her mind feel more distant and more difficult to recall. But soon, this revolting sensation passes and she regains her focus, forcing the sense of irrecoverable loss to the depths of her mind. She stands up, not remembering having fallen, and wipes the dark vomit from her mouth, not remembering having wretched. Looking around, Eidos finds no directional logic to the place. North and south might as well be pointing the same way and east-west could arguably be pointing in at each other. She is now utterly lost. But as of instinct, she keeps moving. The unending files of white clones and their unnerving stillness give the impression she traverses a frozen segment of time¡ªan illusion betrayed by the movement of her mind, the sound of her breath, and swirling motes of black dust all around. Suddenly, a sound. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Off in the distance¡­ She stands still as death. It cannot be an echo of her footsteps. She spots the fresh tracks in the salt. Footprints. Human feet. She is not alone. Someone or something else wanders this forest with her. Eidos swims through the interminable sea of white, following the dimples made in the thick sand by some Wasteland interloper. The distance between the tracks suggests a sprint. Yet, soon the stride contracts as they come upon a second set. These new tracks consist of parallel lines punctuated by heavy dimples closely spaced. Merging like tributaries of a river desperate to reach the sea, the tracks shift downhill, off toward the left. ¡°Two people. One dragging their feet¡­ Injured?¡± Eidos looks around and sees no signs of blood, though thick black goo dots the path carved out by the tracks. She moves to touch it, but the heat radiating from the dark substance compels her to snap her hand back. Swept up in the flow of footprints, she lets the tracks carry her toward their makers. But with each labored step, her sickness deepens. With every pulse of her heart, her Glyphs seem to wink in and out of her awareness, walking the thin line of existence. Now, the motes of black dust do not change in shape or size, only in definition. As though holes burned into her very vision, they scatter light in their wake, endlessly spinning within her sight. But Eidos bears it. Now forgetting what she has lost, she coughs and grits her teeth. Focusing her thoughts on the task at hand, she presses on. Weary feet drag lines into the thickening mounds of salt. Footprints become amorphous dimples in the grainy white powder. A cough. Blackened phlegm spat onto the ground. She looks down, suddenly realizing those weary feet are hers, the footprints too. Yet still she moves in pursuit of a forgotten goal. Pillar after indistinct pillar pass her by on her way to nowhere. Chasing the interminable trail of footprints, the heavy crunch of her footsteps announces her presence throughout the desolate environs, as though begging to be found. Her pleas fall on alert ears further down the path of prints. There, the forgotten Wasteland interloper examines the trail. Eidos shambles nearer, soon reaching the form of a crouching woman, decked in light armor and a tattered cloak. In the space of a thought, the warrior, calm but dynamic, looks up and in a single flowing motion, rises and unsheathes her blade. ¡°Draugnir or human!?¡± she demands, her naked blade implying the wrong answer will have dire consequences. ¡°Human,¡± Eidos replies soothingly. ¡°The name''s¡­ Eidos, and you¡­ are?¡± she manages, in between heavy breaths. The warrior relaxes, resheathing her blade. ¡°Then your Trueflesh is still yours¡­ for now, anyway.¡± Renewing her examination of the tracks, she adds, ¡°But make no mistake, outlander: the Wasteland will make us both servants of the Jinnwraith soon enough. And before that happens, I''ve some unfinished business here. Don''t stand in my way, lest you wish to know the peace of death by my blade.¡± Before Eidos can reply, the warrior turns on her heel and dashes deeper into the forest. Hoping to help somehow, she clumsily follows as the lithe interloper waltzes effortlessly between the pillars. The warrior neither speaks nor breaks her stride as she follows tracks in the salt with unerring certainty. Soon, Eidos is limping, her condition worsening with each step, and thus, the distance between them grows. But before Eidos loses sight of her, the warrior halts having come upon an individual donning equipment mirroring her own. Yet, something about this creature standing before them is amiss. Scrutiny reveals that tears in its clothes expose secrets hidden underneath. Sickly skin, the pallor of which makes the salt envious. Soon she likewise notes the unnatural stillness of the individual. Utterly breathless, motionless, lifeless it stands, propped up against a salty column with an outstretched arm, leaking a bilious, black fluid onto the sand below. The tracks end here and the quarry they sought now stands before them. The warrior then cautiously approaches the pillar. ¡°Shen!¡± she shouts, the weight of emotion cracking her voice. ¡°Though the Jinnwraith''s shadow may now blind you, you are forever Valvorthr! ¡°I bring us both an end befitting Biracul¡¯s faithful¡­¡± she pauses, producing an amber crystal from the folds of her cloak. ¡°We''ll fight alongside Ark in the Graylands! Together, Shariken!¡± The silent warrior turns its head, showing Eidos the very face of the void. The deathly pallor of his complexion is chalk-white, though deep, dark smudges run from his lips and nose streaking down his skin like ink spilled upon blank paper. The whites of his eyes have entirely metamorphosed into a milky membrane thinly stretched over hardened black orbs. ¡°Run now, outlander,¡± the interloper shouts back to Eidos as she draws her hand back with clear intent to launch the crystal. ¡°Or you will die here with us.¡± Suddenly, she accelerates the crystal, just as abruptly, releasing her grip, and sends it speeding towards Shen''s pillar. Eidos is frozen, unable to process the situation. The crystal shatters upon impact. The sound recalls the shadow of a fading memory, the memory of a Daziran Artisan¡¯s warning. Something about the dangers of exploding crystals. In an instant, an expanding sphere of energy illuminates the forest, consuming everything in its wake. The pillars, the draugnir, the interloper, everything. But its growth desists just before reaching Eidos, giving way, instead, to a cataclysmic collapse. The sudden expansion and contraction throw the surrounding air into a chaotic frenzy, birthing myriad rippling shock waves out in the six directions. Luin glows weakly, covering her with a meager protective shield. The initial burst propels Eidos up against a salt pillar, knocking the wind from her lungs. Then, wave upon wave of superheated air crashes over her, squeezing the liquid from her organs and boiling it at once. But soon the blast¡¯s effects wane, and gravity finally reels her back down onto the ground. Bloodied, but alive, Eidos'' blurry vision begins to recover its sharpness. She coughs, quickly covering her mouth. Lungs burn. Soon, a hot, inky-black fluid oozes onto her hands from every opening in her face. She sees her hands; the nails have become crusted and stained, as though she had dipped her festering fingertips in crude oil. Suddenly, she feels her insides twist and warp as though trying to strangle themselves. Her rotten innards seem to liquefy from the wringing, and now only the welcomed relief of death could placate her. A sudden swell of crushing agony brings her crashing face first into the salt. So great is the pain, she forgets how to think. Motes of black space eat away at her vision, blotting out all light. Her very consciousness wanes as the pain waxes. She begins to forget who she is as her Falseflesh slowly rots. But her Self does not wait to see what lies on the other side of oblivion. Her Self abandons this shell and makes for the Nether Edge in hopes of rebirth. _________________ The Nether Edge ¨C Nargund¡¯s Atelier Streams of thoughts, ideas, perceptions¡ªremembered, not truly felt¡ªflood her Self¡¯s mind. They converge into a single large flow, bringing with it an awareness of Self. And thus, Eidos¡¯ Self ¡®is¡¯ again, though she now feels nothing. A memory of hearing comes, and she knows the use of ears and their connection to her¡ªyet, she feels no ears of her own. Suddenly, a muffled sound in the darkness. This noise brings about greater awareness and more questions still. She wonders. Just how long had her mind been submerged in this sensory deprivation? Then comes a memory of time, that universal heartbeat¡ªthough her own heartbeat is absent. Each moment, marked only by the auditory experience and her contemplation of it, passes both swiftly and slowly. Her attention focuses on the sound. Warped tones soon sharpen into something comprehensible, something familiar. It is a man''s voice. The keeper of the Farcaster. ¡°Little remains of Eidos'' soul. Curious¡­ Nullstone should have been accounted for¡­¡± The man paces some, murmuring indistinct complaints. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯m to blame¡­ My daughter''s twisted hand¡­¡± She can sense no counterpart to the solitary voice, and the darkness prevents her from knowing whether the speaker is addressing her directly or if she is simply overhearing a solemn soliloquy. Her Self tries to move, but feels no body. She attempts to speak, but only the memory of her voice remains. Suddenly, other sounds begin to stir in the darkness all around her. Quick, decisive footsteps echo across a stone floor, the grinding sound of metal on rock, a resonance of caressed glass. ¡°Can you yet hear me, Viracocha? Or are you also lost behind the Door of Night? Your child failed to achieve either of our ends¡­ we have lost. Conscientia has beaten us.¡± And with bitter resignation dripping from his every syllable, he concludes, ¡°All is as it should be.¡± In a flash, her Self is bathed in a flow of perfect illumination. A memory of searing pain burns across her consciousness, but it is only the insubstantial shadow of agony. The experience becomes too much for her Trueflesh and she finds herself taken by a sensation of sleep. This time, she dreams. Is this death¡­? Please? The Book of Eidos: A Dream of the Misty Woods — A Wolf A Wolf ______________________ The Mindscape ¨C The Graylands The Self awakened from the dream. It tries to remember. As far as it will tell, the world simply melted away. Shapes fade. Senses waned. Colors will unify. Then, only oblivion remains. Time stops, will start, restarted. But the nothingness soon gave way to form. The mind''s eye sees the darkness, inverting it. Dark became light; opaque becomes clear; and the Self will begin to perceive shadows. As it reaches out to these apparitions, they gained in clarity. Their edges leaking out, staining the surroundings, casting everything but the shadows themselves in a uniform grayness. The Self then began walking, its footless steps silently falling upon a dull surface. The surrounding space and its identical hue, will crack open as a distant horizon becomes barely perceptible. The steps continued their muted march. In the space of a thought, the Self has reached the distant horizon. Shapes began to distinguish themselves from the ether, and soon enough, blurred forms and amorphous masses abound. After some time, the Self will recognize these shapes as trees. ______________________Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The Mindscape ¨C The Misty Woods A memory of touch rejoins the foot to the mind. Like a flint¡¯s spark in the darkness, the foot appeared and disappears upon contact with the floor. The Self now treads the mossy earth of a dark wood, though a misty veil will hide the ground from greater scrutiny. Phantom footfalls displaced the supple undergrowth as they carry the Self deeper into forest. Soon a new awareness, something else walks these woods, something stalking from within the mist. A collection of white mists eddy in an inverted spiral, darkening as they spin. The mass skulked toward the Self, bristling hairs sprouting from its surface, pearly claws and fangs emerging from the darkness. Eyes will open, great circular yellow flames, burning with hunger. ¡°The way to my home you have found. Does this your hunger to know of me fill?¡± I have no such hunger. ¡°Yet I do,¡± it says, white mists pouring from its quivering lips. ¡°Ever stalking this wood for my final prey, yet no satisfaction with an unseen prey can I find.¡± Expectationis the mother of disappointment. The beast will begin to fade. ¡°Desire, the common ailment all must suffer. Though you yourself an exception believe, none can dispassionate remain¡­¡± The dark mass dissipated and now only its voice remains. ¡°The stuff of thought the Graylands be. But of the souls we devour I would warn. Their own will do their minds still hold, Daughter of Viracocha.¡± Including you, Fenrir? ¡°My will always and forever abides, for it one thing and one thing alone seeks¡­ A prey you must find.¡± A low growl rumbled over its voice, ¡°I must feed, lest too starved my hunger grow. Dangerous for us both it would be¡­¡± Danger exists only to those who care, Fenrir. The echoes die and with it the woods, sending the Self back into the void. The time for rebirth has come. The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Impartial — Another Beginning Another Beginning ____________________________ The Sanctuary ¨C The Awakening Chamber Eidos opens her eyes. Light floods in, burning her vision white hot. Agony crushes perception, forcing teary lids shut anew. Defiant, she pries them open, sheer will her only lever. And here I am again¡­ Soft, amber light soon bleeds in through trembling slits. Wider, wider, ever-widening, her efforts begin to bear fruit. Vision, though blurred, is now otherwise unimpeded. What use is sight when the world is dark? Suddenly remembering to breathe, a heaving gasp fills her lungs with the chamber''s chill air. Then remembering to hear, a rushing noise floods her ears, drowning out all sound but the thunderous march of her heart. Swaying as though on violent seas, the room seems to spin. Collapse is inevitable. And if I fall, who cares? My body just gets up again anyway. Eidos closes her teary eyes to the light, this time of her own volition. She focuses on the darkness within, the nothingness that awaits. Anything you do is meaningless, body. A flame emerges from the murk of thought, consuming all fear, all uncertainty. Yet this fire is indiscriminate in its consumption. It singes her fingertips as they reach to caress the crackling glow. Though warmth and comfort be its gifts, excess in these are its admonitions. It¡¯s all meaningless because in the end you hurt, get hurt, and then do it again. She opens her eyes again, this time ready for the flood of light. Taking measured breaths, the sting of chill air slowly decreases. And while her heart still races, she feels much surer on her feet. You know this, body¡­ Her eyes strain against the ambient light, distorted outlines sharpening into shapes, colors dividing and separating. At last, clarity replaces ambiguity and she is free to observe her surroundings for the first time, searching for hints of¡­ something¡­ anything really¡­ anything but the obvious solitude confronting her. We¡¯ve been through these pointless motions before. Eidos stands at the center of an octagonal room. Its pale amber illumination comes not from windows, but from dully shining crystalline sconces adorning the eight corners of the chamber. Though subdued, the light is sufficient to chase away most shadows. You¡¯ll see it¡¯s all the same. The stone walls are all richly decorated with murals and symbols, nary an inch of naked stone remaining. One such mural depicts sculpted trees draped in crimson flowers. The trees line a path where people stroll and fountains spray endless streams of water. Though these features suggest a private garden, others distract from this impression. A wolf, a crow, and a serpent skulk furtively in and among the foliage, hidden in plain sight from the oblivious eyes of those who willfully ignore them. Same walls. These images span several walls unbroken, except at three points. Two doors, directly opposite one another, interrupt the murals, one painted an immaculate white, the other a murky indigo. A dark glass embedded chest-high into a wall likewise stabs a pitch black hole into the continuity of the murals; its unnerving gaze injects shivers into every fiber of her being. Same doors. Yet cold feet soon break the spell, drawing her attention to the floor. The metallic platform she now stands upon seems to sap her body''s warmth¡ªshowing no signs of stopping. Same Farcaster. Eidos crouches, running her hands along a polished, silvered surface. The platform consists of a metallic disk, roughly as wide as she is tall, seamlessly embedded into the tiled floor. Its face is etched with a dizzying array of lines, curves and spirals, all culminating in a Glyph at the center. This Glyph, this symbol, is meaningless to Eidos¡ªyet at least she recollects that it is a Glyph, even in the absence of memory. You may not remember, body, but I remember it all¡­ every object, every action, every cruel and unfair outcome, everything. Rising from her squat, her eyes catch an anomaly, and immediately gravitate towards it. It comes from the faintly glowing door, the blue one. She moves toward to it, not from any strong desire but rather because why not? No. Not everything is the same¡­ As Eidos approaches the indigo door, she finds it is no door at all. A panel of stone with an arched door frame painted upon it deceives those who would not more closely inspect it. Her fingers run along its edges, feeling a razor-thin gap. From it, a deep blue haze seems to desperately flee whatever lurks beyond. I¡¯m different now. Painted within the door frame is a lesser mural. A line of hooded figures solemnly march toward a door off in the distance. The portal they approach boasts no remarkable features, save for a small symbol engraved in its center, a symbol that can only be described as some sort of anti-spiral. I was afraid before, but now¡­ The symbol is utterly incomprehensible to Eidos. Intersecting lines form the skeleton of some indecipherable Glyph, its meaning lost somewhere in memory, somewhere in time. I just don¡¯t care. Not even bothering to push on it, Eidos turns her attention towards the dark glass. Where I spoke to Fenrir? Don¡¯t bother, he¡¯s not there. He left after we got the Sigil of Farcasting. But before her feet begin their tiresome march to it, she loses interest and moves instead toward the white door. A quick glance reveals that the plain white door has no obvious handle or hinges. Her hand rises, guided not by her will, for Eidos the Impartial has none, but rather, of its own accord. Eidos does not try to stop the renegade limb as it rises to push the door open. Contact made, the milky barrier ripples outward from her fingertips, and yet she feels none of it, just as though she were touching emptiness itself. Suddenly, a Glyph born from the overlapping of several lesser shapes etches itself precisely where Eidos had first touched. Its meaning is innate to her¡ªand how could it not be?¡ªfor it is the Glyph of Eidos. At the recognition of her name, Eidos can feel the Glyph respond. The portal shimmers, showering the room in chaotic waves of luminescence. The door''s surface quickly becomes sharply reflective, casting her image in fine detail. Staring back at her is the figure of a young woman with braided hair, draped in a simple shirt, breeches, and a red traveling robe. Quite the sight. A body that moves by itself. But soon, the image begins to fade, the metallic sheen along with it. The space beyond the vanishing door is enveloped in absolute darkness, save a pinprick of light beckoning her from the opposite end. Her feet ease into a lazy stroll as she moves toward the light¡¯s source. And so it goes. _________________________ The Sanctuary ¨C The Winding Stair The air here is dry and stale, unperturbed long enough to stratify by density. The thickest of it clusters at the bottom, eating away all intrusions of light. A thin layer of dust coating the stairs suggests that Eidos'' newly added footsteps are the first to disrupt the balance in quite some time. Though the steps may not have seen any recent use, they are in a state far from disrepair. Distractedly brushing away a swath of the dust with her hand, Eidos sees the floors have been carefully polished, showing no cracks, no threat of crumbling. It is as though they were only recently crafted. Rich marble veins of geometric designs carve their way through this landing, though only humble shapes adorn the individual steps leading to and from it. Yes, we¡¯ve seen this before, too. Why the repeated investigations, body? Above, as below, light and dark entrench themselves in a pointless battle for supremacy. But Eidos is utterly unconcerned with their struggle. And the missing door is still the same, I suppose. Returning her attention to the more immediate surroundings, Eidos finds that the door has vanished. The chamber beyond is now nothing but the shadow of a fading memory¡ªthe memory of an event that may or may not have ever been. Where to now? The Archives? Or to where we murdered the sentry? And yet, she does not care why it has disappeared; she merely continues in an arbitrary direction. Up, her body decides. She does not argue with the decision. And thus, her Falseflesh begins to fight the weight of the oppressive air as she ascends the myriad steps stacked before her. Leaning against the wall for support, she climbs and she climbs until eventually, her unnumbered steps lead her to the top. To the top, to the sentry¡¯s tomb. _________________________ The Sanctuary ¨C The Hall of Sentries This short and narrow hallway is lined with the graven images of men and women at arms. They are finely carved, with no trace nor marks of the tools that wrought them. Yet, their forms are rough and simplistic, primarily comprised of simple angles and straight lines. And of course, the corpse of our first victim. The ceiling hangs low enough to touch with a short leap, and the corridor''s width scarcely exceeds her armspan. A dim light seeps in from the opening at the far end where the hall pours into a vast chamber, though something thwarts the light from completely consuming the doorway. That¡¯s odd¡­ Why is it¡­ Eidos walks toward the doorway. As she draws nearer to the opening, the source of the blockage becomes apparent. What once appeared to be simply a void carved from light gains detail. Its weaker shadows emphasize smooth contours and rugged features. Immobile before her stands a tall, statuesque figure, a spear held at its side. Expression cold, and demeanor dispassionate. As if carved from stone, its features are flawless but for the large gashes rent into its face and abdomen. Glistening, blue liquid slowly leaks from its wounds, serving as a natural highlight of the sentry''s figure.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Why is this thing alive? I thought we killed it¡­ In an alcove, nearly consumed in shadows, a Glyph appears to call to her; it offers an escape. And toward the Glyph she travels, not for an escape but rather because it is closer to her. Then nothing dies in this world? Stepping upon the platform, a violet light seems to carve a Glyph into its center. A slight rumble and it drops into a shadowy shaft, carrying Eidos into the depths little slower than a free fall. Even death is meaningless here¡­ ___________________ The Sanctuary ¨C The Archives Soon, the levitating platform brings her to gentle stop upon the floor of the Archives. Tomes and tables, a dead tree faintly glowing, and that is about it, as far as she is concerned. Following their familiar pattern, her feet lead her towards the nearest object, in this case, a darkened passageway. Luin¡¯s Chamber. Eidos continues further down the passage walking what seems to be an infinite distance, only to arrive right back where she started. Here she absently notes that the platform¡¯s violet glow has dulled but not completely faded. Perhaps I was mistaken. She moves toward the platform and it again revives, shining its vibrant light. She then retreats, just enough to trigger its rest. She waits a moment as the glow dies. It does not take long. The infinite distance she walked down the hallway took even less. Eidos shrugs her shoulders, unconcerned with her body¡¯s findings. Her feet try again, moving along the same path, away from the platform and down the passage, again returning to the platform. No. I¡¯m certain this was the path to Luin¡¯s Chamber. She hears an echoless giggle, utterly innocent, utterly pure, utterly honest in its desire for violence. Laugh as much as you want, murderer. All your work is undone in the end. Then, silence. Bored with the idea of walking an infinite path an infinite number of times, her Eidos ambles away from the passage and to wherever else seems closest. This happens to be the exit. __________________________ The Sanctuary ¨C The Winding Stair She is returned to the winding stair, but at a location significantly distant from where she first encountered it and more distant still from the top. Turning her attention once more to the stairwell itself, she sees that any and all plans to descend have been thwarted¡ªnot that she cared to descend anyway. The stairs beyond this point have crumbled away, sabotage a likelier cause than age given the pristine condition of the stairs. And while there is another landing far beyond, one continuing the theoretical spiral trajectory into the void, the gap is far too wide for any reasonable person to consider leaping to it. Looking down from the edge, Eidos sees only oblivion¡ªmaking failure to reach the opposite landing even more terrifying¡­ It¡¯s hard to be afraid when there are no consequences. More terrifying for a normal person, perhaps. But not for her. Her arms swing back and forth, preparing her body for the jump. Her legs coordinate their squat with the swing. And soon, she leaps. The mark of bravery? Insanity? Or¡­ Awareness? Her hands reach out for the landing as she nears it, but it is indeed much too distant, and soon it seems to rise upwards, towards the ceiling and away from her indifferent hands. Instinct takes hold. A crescendoing sense of impending doom fills her body as it plummets into the depths. Blood and organs are forced to deny their inertia, forced to obey gravity''s summons. It is not long before the stairs are altogether gone, consumed by the shadows. Faster, faster, ever faster, she tumbles into the lightless abyss. As her speed increases, time seems to slow. Unfathomable distances traversed in an instant, all while seeming to never have moved at all. What an odd experience. No, odder than anything else in this place, I suppose. Suddenly, pitch black gives way to emerald phosphorescence, as a peculiar greenish sludge now lines the walls of the shaft. Without warning, the shaft opens into an immense cavern, appearing wider still than the winding stairwell was tall. The air racing against her face brings tears to her eyes as she speeds down towards some gargantuan object. A massive, broken sphere, half-submerged in a radiant lake draws her nearer. Its cracked and ruined surface shows signs of some interior structure, composed of seemingly impossible geometries. But this peek comes at a cost. For though Luin protects her outer form, her body slams into the massive orb''s pitted, sooty metal, liquefying her organs upon impact. _____________________________ The Sanctuary ¨C The Awakening Chamber Eidos respawns upon a metallic platform in the middle of an octagonal room. The garden murals all about leave no doubt that this is the same chamber in which she first awoke. And of course, I¡¯m back where I started. Using Farcasting, I guess. Eidos crouches, running her fingers along the silver surface of the platform, somehow expecting it to spring to life. But the dizzying array of lines, curves and spirals, forming the Glyph at its center remains as impassive as ever. So, no Farcasting, but Luin still haunts me? Patience spent, she moves toward the white door, but soon hesitates. It looks so far from this vantage point. Perhaps the dark glass would be a more suitable object to investigate. Her feet are restless, not eager to wait for a decision. Her Falseflesh moves, stumbling as her mind and her feet come to terms. Only after arriving at the circular pane does she learn of their final agreement. This is where I first met Fenrir. The twinkle of reflecting light off the dark glass seems benign, inviting even. She stares at it for a time. It looks like a hole pierced in space, but offers no view of what lies beyond. She then peers into it, but sees only the dim, visual echo of her own youthful visage. Just as she is about to lose interest, her reflection seems to distort, like the smoke of a flame just snuffed. Soon her warping image is replaced with an unsettling apparition¡­ Bristling hairs of the darkest gray and the deepest black outline the form of a lurking wolf. Its yellow eyes seem somehow darker than the emptiness from which they emerge. So, you¡¯re home, wolf. ¡°Awake at last¡­ Eyes open, but be they yet with sight?¡± The beast speaks not in human tongue, yet every word, every thought is crystal clear to Eidos. Those yellow eyes were once fear itself to me, but now they¡¯re nothing more than just eyes. Leaving her no time to reply, it continues, ¡°The darkness of this Sanctuary blinds, such an unfitting dwelling for our ilk. To leave this room you aim. Certain truth, as akin to mine your nature be.¡± The same exact lines, but why is it speaking to me like it doesn¡¯t know me? ¡°Where am I?¡± she asks. The Sanctuary, body, that¡¯s where. ¡°Known to me this chamber be, within the Sanctuary lying,¡± growls the wolf. ¡°But now more questions arise. For only in kinship to its brother rooms can one room known be. These brothers, too, in a single Sanctuary dwell, their dwelling itself upon the Jenowin Plain resting. But all this little means¡­ absent awareness. Awareness does little to add meaning, Fenrir. ¡°And yet, only in first moving through one of three doors can you your question''s true answer find.¡± It snarls, thin threads of drool hanging from the opening. ¡°Three doors? I count only two,¡± replies Eidos, confused enough to ask the question, but not enough to genuinely care about the answer. ¡°A hole in a boundary, from this place to that leading. Three such objects in this chamber lie. Though, perhaps one your ken eludes. The metal seal upon the floor, essence from form to form casts¡ªsome near, some far. A break in walls of space and void.¡± ¡°I tried it. It doesn¡¯t work,¡± she replies. ¡°A locked door a key requires. If your nature with it resonates, perhaps its key I can you give. Though freely given this help be, on your instinct alone does its acceptance rely.¡± ¡°Sure. I guess. Why not?¡± Not that it¡¯s really any help. ¡°The my aid yours is¡­¡± growls the wolf with a knowing grin. ¡°Many have I in my hunger consumed. Some bore Glyphs, their living thoughts now into my Trueflesh carved.¡± Before the beast, lines of pure white light cut through the air, bending and folding into impossible geometries. The only identifiable shape is the circle that surrounds the mess of copulating rays and edges. The brilliant object suddenly vanishes, leaving only a hint of its brief appearance burnt into her vision, but that too soon fades. The wolf renews its explanation, ¡°Though neither can I the Glyphs read nor write, a use these symbols cast as Sigils will for you have. For Glyphs through their use, not their reading, known be. Sigils as reader act, so that without knowing you may the Glyphs use. Granting one fleeting Sigil now unto you, my ken allows¡­¡± So a ¡®fleeting¡¯ Sigil is it? Then the Farcasting and Wulfias Sigils are gone? With a sudden guttural rumble, more roar than growl, Fenrir demands, ¡°Your truth speak! What reason have you to the Awakening Chamber leave?¡± Leave? So that the world can fail to kill me and I it? Why bother? ¡°No reason in particular; leaving is immaterial,¡± comes her honest yet unimaginative reply, for is she not the Impartial Eidos this time around? The wolf renews its pacing. ¡°Though I no loremaster of thoughtcraft be, with your nature¡ªmore than with any motivation to word translated¡ªyes, with your Trueflesh more strongly did one symbol resonate¡­¡± Suddenly, lines of vibrant blue cut the air before her, pouring forth from the dark glass out into her reality. A countless array of forms¡ªoutlined, never filled¡ªwrithe between dimensions both seen and unseen, marking a Glyph the size of her fist. As the final lines pour out, a lustrous pendant floats forth from the surface of the glass, causing the darkness to unripple, like a pebble leaping from the water back into the thrower¡¯s hand. The Glyph appears to emanate from this pendant¡¯s shrinking surface. Her hand reaches for the pendant, and it eagerly moves toward her open hand. Contact brings awareness. Not Farcasting... odd. ¡°The Glyph of Discipline¡ªthough tied to the Sigil be,¡± says the wolf. ¡°In indifference unwavering, though in aim malleable. Path unknown, possibilities boundless, you proceed.¡± ¡°Your Sigil now the Glyph''s mark bears. Our parting nears. Till we meet anew, daughter of Viracocha¡­¡± Fenrir¡¯s words end abruptly, all sound seemingly devoured by the dark glass. Confusion, though still present, gives way to the stronger sense of apathy. Her journey may have begun, but she would be content even if it went on without her. She looks into the glass once more, expecting¡­ something. But the ravenous Fenrir does not reappear¡ªnor does her own reflection for that matter. Nothing shines on that once reflective surface. No light survives its utter darkness. Eidos now stares into a greedy singularity, ever-taking, never-giving. So, a new key. There is that third door, I guess. A third path, unexplored. Her feet urge her towards it, loathe to remain motionless, for what are feet for but to move? The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Impartial — A Kindred Trueflesh A Kindred Trueflesh _________________________ The Sanctuary ¨C Awakening Chamber Key in hand, her feet carry her towards the hazy blue door. Eyes move as of instinct to the Glyph at its center. Though Eidos sees only a mundane symbol of copulating lines birthing the symmetrical patterns of a Glyph, the resonating Sigil she carries with her reveals its meaning¡ªDiscipline. As soon as this knowledge dawns within her, the mural''s impression on her changes. The hooded figures turn their heads toward her, looking upon Eidos with expectant eyes. Suddenly, the door and mural fade from view, revealing before her a chamber shrouded in a smoky veil of deep blue light, its source yet unclear. Then in we go. ________________ The Sanctuary ¨C Mathetia Stepping across the threshold, Eidos finds herself in a room wholly unlike the one she just left. The simple geometry of the previous area looks primitive in comparison to the dizzying array of shapes that now confront her. Lines and curves intersect to form intricate, extra-dimensional patterns that lace all surfaces. Staring at any given surface gives the impression of standing between two mirrors and looking off into their simulated infinities. But this effect is true from all angles Eidos seems to choose, and perhaps from every possible angle. A prismatic array of light fills the room, spilling in from narrow windows staring down from high above. These panes are stained in a variety of colors, arranged in what may as well be random patterns. What lies beyond these windows, however, is unclear. What lies within and what lies beyond, will knowing this end my cursed existence? I doubt it. Her eyes next fall upon the elliptical table dominating the middle of the room. Unfathomably dark, yet somehow polished to the point of reflection¡ªeven from under the thick layers of dust covering it. A number of smooth, lacquered chairs surround the abyssal table, all impeccably aligned with a perfect mirror¡¯s symmetry. Then she sees it¡ªthe blue haze¡¯s source. A spherical crystal has been placed upon a simple and unpolished jade stand, near the edge of the table. It is as dissimilar to the room as a shadow is to the light that casts it, a warped and distorted echo introduced by foreign elements into a forbidden plane. Her hand reaches out and collects the crystal. It trembles in her loose grip, threatening to fall. She grips more firmly, careful not to break it. The resonance persists, gently at first but ever gaining in intensity, until finally a vision coalesces at its center. The vision links with Eidos and soon becomes her assumed reality. Through the eyes of another, Eidos remembers¡ªnot memories of her own making, yet still distinctly hers somehow. A gathering of robed figures. Two giant beasts wrapped in a violet glow. Death. Bodies. Thetian. A frantic flight from the Enclave. To Kabu. To the Thought Wheel of the Beginning. A journey across a lifeless landscape. A dark, crimson tower painted in blood, imposing over abandoned streets. Draugnir. A void darker than night. Imprisonment in this spherical jail. And¡­ As suddenly as the images began, they cease. Eidos is left eyeing the crystal in her hand with utter indifference. This is¡­ just as it was in the Wellspring, when I was Wulfias¡­ But this time, I was¡­ Ormenos? Who are these people? Her hands wonder whether to launch the crystal and destroy the entire area or to merely put it back into its jade stand. Both options seem to require too much effort to Eidos. In her indecision, the crystal makes the choice for her, opting instead for a third possibility. Its connection to her Falseflesh links their Truefleshes, unifying their minds for the span of a breath, but that is all it takes. Instinct becomes will, will then becoming thought. An image slowly forms, burning out lines from the void. A circle manifests, weaving an intricate tapestry of lines, never crossing, as they traverse dimensions linking paths among them. And soon, the Glyph is fully formed, completing the reaction. Without knowing why, Eidos calls Fenrir¡¯s Glyph to mind. And without knowing how, the shining object in her hand dims as it begins to inject its contents into her Trueflesh, light waning until it vanishes completely. The emptied husk of the crystal soon slips from her hand, crashing to the ground and cracking into perfectly equal blue slivers. Eidos simply stands there, absently observing the surges of conflicting emotions now present within her mind. But these newly added thoughts and fears are just the unrelenting waves crashing against the unmoving cliffs of her apathy. A name etches itself into her Trueflesh. She knows the name, though she knows not why. ¡®Ormenos¡¯. Riding on the Trueflesh of Ormenos, Eidos masters the Techne of Hidden Mind through the Glyph of the Occult. A new skill? To what end? Even if it¡¯s useful to my body, it¡¯s useless to me. Not much caring to move, she lingers in the chamber a while thinking of nothing in particular. Her mind drifts, further and further from reality, very nearly vanishing completely. It is as though her very consciousness has fallen asleep. Her body however, rejects the idleness of its handler, for what is a body¡¯s use if not to move? Thus, as her awareness slumbers, her body travels at its discretion. As you will, body. _____________________________ The Sanctuary ¨C The Awakening Chamber Eidos respawns upon a metallic platform in the middle of an octagonal room. The garden murals all about leave no doubt that this is the same chamber in which she first awoke. Doesn¡¯t this only happen when I die? Did my body walk itself off the stairs or something? Her body appears to be a less reliable conductor than her consciousness, but the latter yet remains unmoved, peacefully sleeping in a bed of disinterest. Undeterred, her body tries again. _____________________________ The Sanctuary ¨C The Awakening Chamber Eidos respawns upon a metallic platform in the middle of an octagonal room. The garden murals all about leave no doubt that this is the same chamber in which she first awoke. Again?! How many times has it been now? I¡¯ve lost count now. But, then again, I suppose it¡¯s as good as any other path. Despite the passage of hours and the loss of scores¡ªif not hundreds¡ªof bodies, her errant body continues its stubborn attempts to find some place of interest as her consciousness naps. _____________________________Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. The Sanctuary ¨C The Awakening Chamber Eidos respawns upon a metallic platform in the middle of an octagonal room. The garden murals all about leave no doubt that this is the same chamber in which she first awoke. ¡­Yes, this is pointless, but it¡¯s also maddening at this point! If we do this one more time, I¡¯m gonna go insane! Her body recklessly plows toward the exit for another attem¡­ Okay, Eidos, wake up! As if awoken mid-dream, Eidos¡¯ consciousness reluctantly changes states. Rubbing her eyes and scratching her belly, she looks around the chamber wondering how she got here. She thinks for a moment, soon distracted by a burgeoning yawn. She briefly toys with the idea of sleeping some more, but since she is already wide awake, she prefers to avoid the tedious task of getting back to sleep. With no better options, she directs her feet toward the white door and to the winding stair. _________________________ The Sanctuary ¨C The Hall of Sentries Myriad distractions claimed her attention while ascending the stairs, one for each step she took. And now somehow she finds herself at the top. She shrugs and moves on. This Eidos is apathetic in the extreme¡­ I know everything I do is meaningless, but this is ridiculous. The familiar narrow hallway and its resident sentry greet Eidos as her first footfalls echo through the hall. In the alcove, nearly consumed in shadows, the cloudstone¡¯s Glyph appears to call to her, offering an escape. Since it is the nearest obj¡­ No, body! Don¡¯t you do it! We¡¯ve already done this thousands of times. Suddenly, annoyed at the prospect of using the cloudstone, she moves toward the sentry instead. ¡­I guess this Eidos is easier to sway than the last one¡­ as long as she¡¯s awake, that is. As Eidos approaches, she feels a Glyph bubble up to the forefront of her consciousness. With each step she takes, the form becomes clearer, yet remains uninvoked. The sentry has not yet reacted, and Eidos remains undetected. There it stands, motionless with its spear at its side, as if to deny Eidos'' very existence. Whatever this Glyph is, it feels a lot like the mind from the blue crystal. Ormenos¡¯ hidden mind, Techne, or whatever it was. Use it. Eidos stares briefly at a wall, running her finger along the lines of the bas-reliefs. Use it, dammit! Instinct takes over. Instinct becomes will, will then becoming thought. An image slowly forms, burning out lines from the void. A circle manifests, weaving an intricate tapestry of lines, never crossing, as they traverse dimensions linking paths among them. And soon, the Glyph is fully formed, completing the reaction. The Glyph of the Occult lends power to its Hidden Mind Techne casting an invisible veil around Eidos¡¯ mind. The brief flash of the Glyph dissipates in her mind¡¯s eye and she begins ambling towards the doorway and towards the oblivious sentry, eventually walking past them both. So if it can¡¯t see my mind, it can¡¯t see me? Whatever, at least I¡¯m leaving this place again. ____________________ The Sanctuary ¨C The Antechamber A portcullis, some writing, more stairs. Nothing terribly exciting to grab her attention here. Perhaps attracted by the shininess of the light, or perhaps by the hole-iness of the portcullis itself, Eidos finds her feet soon walking in that direction. The portcullis, large and of metallic construction as it is, promises to resist motion with all the might of gravity¡ªits indefatigable ally. Peering through its checkered apertures, Eidos¡¯ eyes overcome the barrier that would thwart her Falseflesh¡¯s progress. Beyond it is a lengthy bridge, scaled like a shimmering serpent, slithering across the chasm it overlooks. The serpentine bridge seems to terminate at a similar gateway, at the opposite end of the chasm, though no portcullis obstructs passage there. To the left of the portcullis is an apparatus or mechanism and housed within is something that nearly escaped her notice¡ªan inert crystal. As it was before. I suppose there¡¯s some Techne or Glyph that can repower the damn thing. Her curious hands reach to examine the mechanism and its jeweled companion. The crystal is as it seemed¡ªdevoid of any energy. It likely at one point was responsible for lifting the gate through some trick of magic or artifice. But dead it is and so it shall remain, as Eidos lacks the means to revive it. She moves to put it back, but it slips through clumsy fingers down onto the stony floor. A violent crack signals its end as the casing begins to spit shards of crystal in the six directions. Ephemeral as it may be, the crystalline fragments cascade floorward in gorgeous fashion¡ªa lovely facsimile of fireworks. Eidos merely shrugs and moves towards the next nearest thing¡ªthe stairs. Peeking into the ascending stairwell, she quickly regrets the decision. Just thinking of how much effort it would require to climb them is itself too much effort to her. She begins to move away from them in search of something easier¡­ Nope! Up the stairs, body. Now! Ultimately indifferent to wherever she is, is going, or will go, Eidos opts for the stairs in the end, having now forgotten her initial aversion to the work they will demand. For she knows that if she tires of consciousness, there is always the quiet refuge of slumber¡­ No, you don¡¯t! Move! Lashed by an unseen taskmaster¡¯s bullwhip, Eidos lets her feet guide her up the rising stairs. This stairwell is large, but not so large as the one below. Further differences arise in the square shape and lack of railing. But a kindred trait does it find in that here, too, all light is natural light seeping in through an opening at its zenith. She begins her climb. Step summing upon step, an apparently unending ascension skywards up the shaft of a large square tower tries Eidos¡¯ patience, stretching it to a hair¡¯s breadth. Her consciousness begins to wane again, eyelids slowly closing, seeking the effortless comfort of sleep¡­ Wake up! Her eyes spring open and she presses on. The passage seems to get ever warmer, and in time, she reaches the top, evidenced by the now-visible portal inviting her to exit the indifferent infinity of stairs. Next up is that creepy desert traveler that messed with my mind¡­ I wonder if I can use Hidden Mind to avoid him, too¡­ The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Impartial — A New Piece A New Piece ____________________________ The Kaban Wilds ¨C The Jenowin Plain After traversing some rather unremarkable ruins, Eidos finds herself staring down a desert. Here, the sun beats down upon cracked earth as a strong wind blows spiraling plumes of dust into the air. Dazir off to the northwest, shiny tower off to the northeast, and beyond that the Tacribians¡­ Filled to bursting with ingrates and liars. I guess we should head to the one rats¡¯ nest we haven¡¯t visited, if for no other reason than for variety. Yip yip, body! Time to move. She stumbles across the burning span of desert, one lazy step after the next. Diminutive dust clouds dance to the rhythm of her footfalls, and eventually all join to form a wispy cape heralding her approach. Hours pass before she notices a mirror cloud rising off in the distance. Straining her eyes against the dust and sun, it is difficult to make anything out for certain among the shimmering waves of burning air. Perhaps it is a person moving its way towards her, or perhaps it is merely a mirage born of heat and thirst. The rusty traveler¡­ okay, body, activate the Techne. Instinct compels Eidos. Instinct becomes will, will then becoming thought. An image slowly forms, burning out lines from the void. A circle manifests, weaving an intricate tapestry of lines, never crossing, as they traverse dimensions linking paths among them. And soon, the Glyph is fully formed, completing the reaction. Concentrating on the Glyph of the Occult, Eidos executes the Techne of Hidden Mind. As the flickering shape draws nearer, Eidos sees that it is clearly no mirage. The figure is dressed in dusty robes, patched and mended so many times that the original fabric is hard to discern. Every stitch of thread, every scrap of cloth is dyed some shade of red. It walks with the aid of a large wooden staff, and a wide-brimmed hat obscures its features. It approaches¡­ And then simply walks right past Eidos, just as though she were not there at all. Neither mere indifference, nor a simple case of scornful neglect, rather it is perhaps best described as complete and utter ignorance of presence. The square perceives not the cube occluded in a buried third dimension, on a plane above its awareness; likewise is Eidos wholly beyond this desert wayfarer¡¯s perception. Guess I avoided another nasty encounter with him. As the figure melts away off into the distance, Eidos turns to face her chosen destination. She sets off across the desert plain toward the silvery spire. But as the day wanes, her strength is sapped from her body. And yet still, she keeps a steady pace. The setting sun and the bone-chilling gales do little to halt her progress. Onward she marches, through the night, until the dawn delivers her to her destination. ____________________ Tambul ¨C The Gates of Tambul Waking from her walking stupor, Eidos rubs the sleep from her eyes. Shuffling feet traverse the cracked, peeling skin of the earth, while cloudless skies offer no shelter from the sweltering heat of the morning sun. Water flows through these flats like wisdom from an idiot¡ªand appears to have done so for centuries. No fauna, no flora, not even a dried out tumbleweed in sight. Stuck in a dying world¡­ But I guess even paradise would be torturous if it repeated forever. Then, through the heat-born distortions clawing their way skyward, she spots a massive bulwark rising up from the ground. Hundreds of buildings hide behind these walls, shyly poking the tips of their roofs above the ramparts. The blinding spire Eidos chases juts up near the fortress¡¯ seam with the canyon¡¯s edge; and beyond it, spanning the canyon, is the massive bridge that, even from this close distance, looks to be floating midair. As she nears the walls, her eyes center upon wooden doors roughly twenty paces wide and several times her height. Reinforced with bands of iron, the giant doors devoutly stand as unmoving guardians. I¡¯m guessing this is Tambul¡ªthink Rada said something about them being hospitable. Maybe I should ¡®Hidden Mind¡¯ myself from them, just in case¡­ The familiar pattern of the Glyph comes to mind as she once more executes the protective Techne. Though its effects may lack the overt glow a Glyph such as Luin displays, Eidos still feels the difference, like some metaphysical curtain shielding her thoughts from view. Lightly scratching her belly, she saunters up to the gate. Yet at her arrival, the helmeted visages of two watchmen appear atop the wall. They study her closely, silently inquiring about her intentions with their gazes. They can see me? Why didn¡¯t it work on them? At her approach, the gates immediately begin to grate the earth beneath their feet, opening with a raspy moan. A handful of spearmen stand at the entrance, but do not block her passage. Neither the guards atop the walls nor those within them ask her name or purpose, though all present watch Eidos with attentive stares as she passes through the gates. The heavy wood once more grinds against the desert sand as the gates to Tambul close. Before Eidos is a large courtyard bustling with activity. Contrary to what the towering walls and mighty gates suggest, though, there is a scant and ill-equipped military presence. For the most part, the life of the townsfolk dominates the environs. Market merchants peddle wares; men pull carts transporting foodstuffs; women haul buckets of water and sacks of soil; children play, running about with great frivolity; older folk engage in lively conversation; and at the epicenter of all activity is a large, marble sculpture¡ªsome depiction of an unnamed hero slaying an unusual beast. Many within proximity to the gates take notice of Eidos. Some pretend to go about their business while cautiously drawing nearer to regard her, but none approach overtly. One of them in particular, a youthful, red-headed girl, stands staring for a moment, only to then run off down the street with great urgency. ¡°Hello there, stranger!¡± comes a sudden hail from a gentle yet enthusiastic voice. ¡°Care for a drink? It can be thirsty work travelin¡¯ the desert alone!¡± Eidos turns to search for the source of the invitation. Some ten paces off, a well-fed water peddler waves an eager arm, its flab desperately trying to keep pace with the vigorous motions. Might as well see what these people are like¡­ probably just like the Dazirans and Tacribians. Eidos stands there blankly staring for a moment. The lady¡¯s hand stops waving and her enthusiastic smile fades into a slight frown of disappointment. Hurry up, body! They¡¯re going to think I¡¯m a half-wit if you just stand there. Her feet jerk into motion, carrying her towards the lady. The water peddler¡¯s enthusiasm reignites into the perfect storm of excited smiles and inviting hand waves. ¡°It¡¯s not got the kick of a good Jinn-Liquor,¡± she says, handing a cup to Eidos, ¡°but water¡¯ll get the job done!¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°Y¡¯know, stranger,¡± she continues, ¡°here in Kabu an outsider is rarer than a kind-hearted Jinn.¡± She regards Eidos with curiosity. ¡°Wasn¡¯t always that way, but has been for the past two decades or so.¡± She begins to look off into the distance as if recalling an irretrievable past.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. The talkative type¡­ but at least, she¡¯s friendly. Suddenly spinning back to face Eidos, she adds, ¡°Not that we aren¡¯t welcomin¡¯ of foreign folk, mind you! It¡¯s just hard to get here, is all! And the only thing you¡¯ll find once you do get here is boredom and sand! Really difficult for a curious one such as myself to live in this place where not much happens¡­¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t you move, then?¡± Eidos asks. The water peddler stares at her, incredulity slowly dropping her jaw. Suddenly, a burst of heartfelt laughter, ¡°Bahaha! Biracul¡¯s balls, you¡¯ve a sense of humor, traveler! No, my kind¡¯d make a hearty meal for the draugnir and buzzards, is all! I wouldn¡¯t dare leave Kabu to go explorin¡¯ like some obese Torma, ha ha! ¡°¡­But you, my intrepid friend,¡± she says with a wink and a nod, ¡°you¡¯re different, aren¡¯t you? I imagine you¡¯ve loads of stories from beyond these stuffy walls! ¡°Say, if you¡¯re interested in an equal exchange,¡± she says pouring another cup of water, ¡°I¡¯ll tell you everything you need to know about this boring place!¡± If it¡¯s so boring, why would I want to know about it? ¡°Sure, why not?¡± ¡°Haha! You¡¯ve made me happier than a Suyuti in a goatpen, stranger!¡± The peddler becomes flustered, ¡°Oh, what to ask, what to ask? Oh! I know! But first, as a sign of good faith, here¡¯s somethin¡¯ few yet know¡­¡± she leans in and lowers her voice. ¡°Logira is unhappy with Khlutt¡¯s war-mongerin¡¯, and is plannin¡¯ on challengin¡¯ him for leadership of the Tacribian League! Mark my words! Someday soon, blood¡¯ll run on the stones of the Dawn Fortress!¡± Logira and Khlutt? The two people who exiled me? It¡¯s a world of intrigue out there¡­ would they change if they knew how pointless it was? Still leaning in closely, she asks, ¡°So, tell me, you been to the Dawn Fortress yet?¡± Yes, and it¡¯s not much of a tourist attraction, so stay away. ¡°No, this is the first town I¡¯ve seen,¡± Eidos replies. Ah yes, my body is just as ignorant as the rest of these people. ¡°A pity. I¡¯d dance with a Jinn to know more of Khlutt¡¯s plans¡­¡± she looks down at the ground while biting her thumb. ¡°We¡¯re a bit on the edge of a cliff here. What happens at the Dawn Fortress in the next few days will sculpt the future of Kabu itself. Either they succeed and Dazir falls, or the other way around.¡± Last time they died from a poisoned ¡®gift¡¯ Khaa had me deliver to them¡­ this time, he can do it himself if he wants, though I half hope that bastard drowns in it this time around. ¡°No towns, huh? I gotta ask then, where have you been?¡± ¡°Some place underground. Lots of stairs. A gate. South of here,¡± she says thinking uttering complete thoughts too tiresome. I sound like an idiot. Puzzled, the water peddler asks, ¡°What kind of jinnlickin¡¯ misadventures did you get yourself into, hun?!¡± Then a spark, a flame, a conflagration of understanding. ¡°¡­you don¡¯t mean Old Tacriba out at the edge of the plain, do you? ¡­but no one¡¯s been out there since Ark sealed it off! What in Biracul¡¯s name were you doin¡¯ out there?!¡± ¡°That¡¯s just where I woke up,¡± then half-distractedly she adds, ¡°And other people have gotten out there.¡± She yawns. ¡°A fellow in red. Traveling that way as I traveled this way.¡± Shock and disbelief tug at her warm smile, twisting it into a concerned frown. ¡°Mifas¡¯cul.¡± That was his name, wasn¡¯t it? Didn¡¯t Khaa call him an ¡®ally of Dazir¡¯? The water peddler¡¯s tone soon grows grave, ¡°Pakahron will want to know about this.¡± She moves to leave. ¡°Oh, but this news of yours is worth two from me, so consider this the other half of the payment. ¡°Dazir¡¯s Librarian was seen wanderin¡¯ the Valley of Bones a few days ago, but hasn¡¯t been seen since¡­ and given how that place is about as welcomin¡¯ of people as a Daziran is of criticism, next he¡¯s seen, he¡¯ll probably be fit to join the Bone Pile himself, if you catch my drift.¡± With that she winks, smiles, and rushes away, disappearing into the crowd. Nicer than your average local¡­ Well, let¡¯s get moving, body. Yip yip! _____________ Tambul ¨C The Atrium Her feet begin to shuffle deeper into the township, and as she pushes forward, Eidos attracts the attention of many a passerby. She strides down the street through a cloud of speculative whispers and inquiring gazes. Nearing the marble sculpture, it becomes clear that it is a fountain, jets of water both misting and bubbling from underneath. Must be nice to have an extravagant fountain while your neighbors die of thirst¡­ Suddenly, an elderly man calls out to her, as he waddles her way. ¡°Greetings¡­ stranger¡­¡± he says, struggling to catch his breath from the brisk walk that brought him here. ¡°You¡¯ve entered¡­ the township of Tambul, and¡­ I¡­ am its mage-leader¡­ Pakahron¡­¡± ¡°Are you okay?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be¡­ fine¡­ shortly¡­¡± He inhales deeply several times, trying to regulate his chaotic breaths. ¡°That¡¯s better. Sorry to make you wait. ¡°As I was saying, you¡¯ve come to the Cradle of Kabu! And here, Biracul¡¯s children greet you, stranger,¡± he says with great aplomb. ¡°Thanks.¡± Cheer slightly fading into concern at her lack of enthusiasm, he adds, ¡°Yes, well, I wanted to say that you should fear not, for though we¡¯ve never met before, you¡¯re among friends here!¡± ¡°That¡¯s nice.¡± Trying desperately to keep the conversation flowing, he says, ¡°I must say, you don¡¯t have the look of a Daziran, and only a Jinn could cross the Duskfangs and survive¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯m a Jinn, or a Daziran for that matter.¡± ¡°Well, yes, both are unlikely, but in any event, when some of my citizens witnessed your arrival, they informed me immediately, so that I could perhaps learn more of our new visitor. Care to share where you hail from and what brings you to Tambul, stranger?¡± ¡°Not in particular.¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid I must insist¡­¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want any trouble.¡± ¡°A noble aspiration!¡± ¡°Looking to avoid anything needing too much effort, really¡­¡± ¡°Oh¡­ Well, even still, these are uncertain times¡­ and as the leader of this township, I must determine whether your words are at odds with your thoughts.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not.¡± Wait a moment¡­ is he going to do what Logira did to me during the trial? ¡°I wish that I could trust you, my friend. But my people have a right to security and they look to me to provide it. I ask that you allow me to use my Truesight to look into your thoughts.¡± ¡°Sure, doesn¡¯t matter to me.¡± Thanks, body; can always count on you to say something stupid. ¡°Then I shall proceed¡­¡± ¡°Wait¡­ could this go wrong and mess up my mind or something?¡± It doesn¡¯t matter; just get it over with. Apprehension creases his brow and droops his puffy cheeks. ¡°Admittedly, it would be within my power to alter your mind.¡± Raising a finger in the air and adopting a reassuring smile, he adds, ¡°However, you needn¡¯t fear, as I¡¯ve sworn an oath in Biracul¡¯s name to only use my abilities for reading thoughts, and only when given permission to do so!¡± ¡°You know what? Doesn¡¯t matter. Go for it.¡± The mage is dismayed at her lack of concern, yet curious to see what manner of secrets nestle within her evidently thick skull. Placing his fingers on her temples, he says, ¡°Then I shall proceed¡­ ¡°Hmm¡­ Your mind seems free of taint and deformity¡­ But how peculiar¡­ The structure of it, it¡¯s¡­ unlike any I¡¯ve witnessed before. Frankly, your mind more closely resembles a Neverborn¡¯s than a human¡¯s¡­ Though you¡¯re undeniably human¡­¡± He pauses. ¡°¡­Yes, all I could see was your journey here across the plain, your exploration of the abandoned Tacribian hold, and then¡­ nothing. As if you were newly born.¡± ¡°Well, I could¡¯ve told you all that¡ªglad you saved me the effort, though.¡± ¡°Be that as it may¡­ you¡¯d sooner find the Ruby Jinn telling the truth than an adult newborn¡­ you are a mystery indeed, Eidos. But an ultimately harmless one, as I detected not a drop of malice in your thoughts.¡± ¡°Great. What now?¡± I guess we walk around and talk to random people. ¡°Well, you¡¯re free to explore our humble town, but if I may, a suggestion.¡± He clears his throat and continues, ¡°Kaleki, Tambul¡¯s resident Librarian, is well versed in history. Perhaps she has heard of individuals that shared your condition. You would do well to seek her counsel.¡± ¡°Is it far?¡± ¡°The Archives are past the Residence District, near the Hydroponics Facility.¡± ¡°Sounds far, but okay. Maybe I¡¯ll find my way there. Thanks.¡± Staring an unasked question at her, he says, ¡°Yes. Well, I have my civic duties to attend to. May Biracul guide you, stranger,¡± and then waddles off into the crowded atrium. Okay, so now we walk around and talk to random people? Feet shift and Eidos is carried deeper into the atrium. The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Impartial — A Puzzling Populace A Puzzling Populace _____________ Tambul ¨C The Atrium A large statue perched upon a fountain dominates the center of the atrium. Eidos instantly gravitates towards the cool mist rising from jets of water spraying at its feet, hoping to offset the effects of the relentless sun. Upon closer inspection, what looked to be a statue of marble turns out to be some kind of metallic one instead¡ªiron or steel, but white in hue. Remarkably, it lacks any sign of corrosion, despite its proximity to water. The metal bends and twists, depicting an armored hero locked in the throes of battle with a fantastical creature¡ªsome strange fusion of serpent, lion, and bird, and other unfamiliar creatures. This statue seems to serve as a gathering place and most people around here seem engaged in lively conversation. However, a good number seem to share Eidos¡¯ intent and are merely countering the midday heat with the fountain¡¯s misty coolness. One such person stares at Eidos and then back at the statue with curious eyes and a grin evident even through his bushy, white beard. The man¡¯s mouth opens and closes several times, as though instinct were trying to force words through lips that experience thought it had sealed off. But of course, the dam will burst and out will come an unending stream of words¡­ Let¡¯s go, body, before that happens. Eidos simply stands beneath a shower of mist, enjoying the coolness. Really? So we¡¯re going to fight again, body? No. I¡¯m done fighting. Stay if you want. Meanwhile, the bearded man¡¯s own internal conflict also reaches its conclusion, instinct triumphing over reason. ¡°You know what? I think you and this statue have something in common!¡± speaks the man, as though proudly about to share some grand epiphany. ¡°If you say so,¡± she replies still submerged in her misty shower. ¡°Indeed, I do! I say you are both from Thiuda, are you not?¡± Eidos rubs her hands through her moistened hair, sinking the coolness to her scalp, having utterly forgotten the man beside her. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure most in Kabu are baffled by your appearance¡ªperhaps even the ol¡¯ mage-leader himself!¡± he continues unabated. ¡°But you clearly have the look of a Thiudan to me, and I¡¯m pretty much the authority on ethnicity¡ªif I may be so bold! So, did I strike true, stranger?¡± Suddenly realizing the man is still next to her, Eidos starts. ¡°Wha¡­? Thiuda? Don¡¯t know, really. If you say I am, I must be.¡± I am an idiot. Can this ¡®me¡¯ end soon? ¡°Indeed, I insist it is so! Despite the remoteness of your homeland, there¡¯s certainly plenty of evidence of your people¡¯s artifacts here in Kabu. ¡°It follows, then, that there must have been numerous trade routes when the folk of Kabu were stronger, and not merely degenerate, as we are now. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be something?¡± he says beginning to muse. ¡°To see folk of the Northlands in the desert plains, just as common as migrating birds!¡± ¡°What is Thiuda anyway?¡± Eidos inquires. Momentary incredulity stuns the bearded fellow to silence. Then, his eyes light up. ¡°Oh! Are you testing me?! I accept!¡± Clearing his throat, he proceeds to lecture Eidos, ¡°What is Thiuda, she asks¡­ Why it¡¯s well known! That is, at least, for those with the talent of knowing! Thiuda is a land far to the North, beyond Jer and beyond even the Blade Mountains! Yet, evidence of their artifacts here in Kabu abounds¡ªas previously mentioned. Do you find fault with my keen insights thus far, brave Thiudan?¡± ¡°Nope, but I¡¯m gonna leave now.¡± Eidos begins to walk away. Finally. ¡°Of course! One so far from home must have come with a purpose beyond talking to the region¡¯s most learned citizen scholars! May Biracul gui¡­ no wait, what was the Thiudan phrase for this occasion? ¡­hmm¡­ Ah, yes! ¡®Thra mis Skesir, Dyes mis dawk!¡¯, brave Thiudan!¡± Ablah waves Eidos off, loudly chanting his bizarre farewell. Why do the annoying one¡¯s always seem to be the happiest? Is it a problem with me? Having to flee her watery refuge¡¯s unfortunate invasion, Eidos now aimlessly wanders the atrium looking for a replacement. She steps into a shadow for a moment, to thwart the sun¡¯s attempts to cook her Falseflesh. She soon notices the shade she now borrows belongs to a massive aqueduct, leading to a roofless structure some two hundred paces north. That¡¯s about two hundred paces more than this lazy body is willing to walk¡­ Oh, just go there, you idiot. There¡¯ll be water for you to play with¡ªand hopefully drown in, so I can get a smarter body on the next run¡­ With a sudden sense of purpose, Eidos moves along the path carved out by the aqueduct¡¯s vast shadow¡­ for the first fifty paces or so; thereafter, her feet all but drag her the rest of the way to the aqueduct¡¯s terminus. _____________________ Tambul ¨C The Temple of Biracul The aqueduct leads Eidos to a square building of some hundred paces in width and of equal length. The sound of crashing water roars from within, mixed with ritual chanting. At a glance she can tell this place is unique among the buildings nearby, for itsdark exterior distinguishes it from the lighter stone of the structures surrounding it. The distinction is not merely visual either, for something about it likewise reminds her of the Sanctuary in which she first gained sight. No point in just standing here; best move inside. She crosses the threshold. Bereft of roof¡ªonly barely covered by the end of the aqueduct¡ªthis space generously hosts the sun¡¯s falling rays, its cascade of light mirrored by the torrent of water pouring into a pool that spans the length of the structure. From the center of the room, a flicker steals her gaze as sunshine contacts the large metallic disk abiding there, elevated upon a three-step dais. This disk bears a great resemblance to the one where she awoke.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. A Farcaster? I guess I could¡¯ve come here, too. Where else do they have these things? Does the Dawn Fortress also have one? Turning her attention to the walls, Eidos notes that the dark sandstone of the temple miraculously seems carved from a monolithic block. Stairways and upper areas around the perimeter have been fashioned from the lighter stone materials prevalent among the neighboring structures. These were by all appearances constructed as an afterthought. However, all masonry and supports here are meticulously crafted and the entire layout designed with expert ability. The crashing roaring surge of falling water muffles the noise from solemn chants, idle gossip, and rowdy children. The makers of these secondary sounds all move with a uniform purpose, filling their emptied vessels at the opposite end of the waterfall where calmer waters reign. A special section sees a constant stream of vessel bearers filling basins half their size and darting out through a guarded door. This is a lot of water¡­ Why exactly can¡¯t they give more to the Tacribians? I remember Heyar saying they gave some, but this looks like it¡¯s more than enough for two towns¡­ Agitated ears collude with impatient feet, sending her into motion towards yet another exit to her right. A blissful silence one conspirator seeks, freedom from idleness the other. _____________________ Tambul ¨C The Residence District Eidos enters a veritable forest of multi-tiered buildings, its depth invisible from here. Walking among the houses, she runs her hand along the rough surface of their walls, fingers catching where layered bricks peek out from cracks in the adobe. Though mostly monochromatic and uniform, the residences distinguish themselves by simple yet colorful placards framing what could well be names and occupations. Dary, Loremaster. Dysron, Cultivator. Kagesh, Guardian. But then, she reaches one with the name defaced. Scratched through with a single line, Zebh, Cultivator was once cleanly written upon its presently marred surface. Zebh? I¡¯ll hear that name again, surely. But such simple buildings make for poor companions. A part of her quickly realizes she will gain nothing from vacantly fondling the walls¡ªthen again, a different, more influential part of her honestly does not much care to do anything else. She yawns, turning her head to accommodate an expanding jaw. In her aimless wandering, she seems to have somehow stopped right next to an oddly-dressed fellow standing as still as a statue, so close she can feel the heat from his skin. The man stares off into realms unseen, into the divine territory only those most dedicated to their craft will ever tread. His concentration is perfect, his patience inhuman, as he awaits the right moment, the ideal opportunity. Inspiration strikes, and the man begins. ¡°Hearken, my friends as I begin the tale,¡± sings out a practiced yet squeaking tenor. ¡°It starts with a horrible, jinnborn wail. ¡°A storm of blood, a storm of crime, ¡°A ghastly, ghoulish, ghost-filled time!¡± He solemnly bows, pausing for dramatic effect. ¡°First, came ol'' Famlaz, dread Jinn king of red, ¡°Lies dripping¡ªoozing!¡ªfrom his brain-filled head. ¡°Pay attention! Listen now and listen well! ¡°His squawking bird-voice with effect most fell!¡± The man looks down, deeply inhaling. When he raises his eyes again, he looks as if he were desperately trying to pass an impacted stool. ¡°It is I, CAW! Famlicus, the Lord of Lies! ¡°Scorpions and buzzards, my myriad spies. ¡°I turn the father ''gainst the son, ¡°Concoct despair for everyone!¡± He looks down once more, transitioning back into his original expression of solemnity. ¡°Then came the brutal brothers Amethyst, ¡°Whom you would do well to detest. ¡°Most strong in body, yet quite weak in brain. ¡°For gifts, they brought man tears and pain!¡± Lowering his head, he returns to prior look of constipation. This guy only has two facial expressions it seems¡­ ¡°Call our names, fools! Konki and Nerius! ¡°Twinned Jinns and brothers most nefarious! ¡°First, we strike and smash, then whip and lash! ¡°We¡¯ll dispose of you like filthy trash!¡± Then, forgetting to lower his head and pause this time, solemnity returns. ¡°Next, came Vanargand, fabled Man of Green, ¡°With his emerald eyes and ghelblade most keen. ¡°Worse still are his children, death born in three. ¡°A curse for Biracul, for you and¡­ ME!¡± His faces shifts. ¡°I shall strike with both my sword and spear. ¡°My first¡¯s deadly poison will burn and sear. ¡°My second¡¯s crushing jaw will mash and bite. ¡°My third¡¯s grisly face will wither and blight!¡± Forgetting to even change expressions, he continues his rhapsodic opus. ¡°Of these roles, nary a one can compare, ¡°To the unseen Jinn of night and despair! ¡°Indeed! The very worst was Melinoe, ¡°Obsidian dowager of shadow! ¡°Yes! Sister Midnight, neither found nor sought, ¡°Her most wicked weapon, her silent thought. ¡°No respite in sleep! Just nightmares galore! ¡°Beckon ye enter through Night¡¯s charnel door!¡± His pace accelerates. ¡°Each and every evil deed sows the seeds¡± Faster. ¡°For the almighty Dread Spiral¡¯s return.¡± Faster. ¡°Begging please, each mortal pleads,¡± FASTER! ¡°Make this festering world¡­ BUR-UR-UR-URRRRrrrrrnnn¡­¡± his words peter out as his breath is expended. What was that? Then, a lengthy silence ensues, with Eidos and the man simply staring at each other. Uncounted heartbeats pass and the deadlock of their gazes continues. Minutes. Hours. Days. The two stare at each other, fighting an invisible battle between art and indifference. Years. Centuries. Millennia. All pass in an instant while they peer deeply into one another¡¯s Trueflesh. One so devout to his craft, the other so apathetic towards it. But soon an ever-widening smile cracks the man¡¯s sober expression, eyes beaming with pride and delight. ¡°I can''t believe it!¡± he excitedly exclaims as he rushes to embrace Eidos. ¡°You watched my whole performance! Even the lengthy, silent outro¡ªincluded for dramatic effect! No one has ever watched my play in its entirety!¡± I doubt anyone even made it through the first stanza¡­ Then releasing his embrace yet maintaining a loving grip on her shoulders, ¡°You are thus bestowed with the highest honor of being my most loyal and supportive fan!¡± ¡°Sure,¡± she replies, ¡°but to be honest I wasn¡¯t really paying attention. Just kind of spaced out there for a moment.¡± If only I could¡¯ve done the same¡­ But the poet now swims in his euphoria too deeply to hear her words. ¡°Long have I searched for a person who would understand my art¡ªand by extension, my very heart! But now, she stands before me, Biracul sent!¡± He begins to circle her, observing her every feature. ¡°As beautiful as she is strange. As captivating as she is wild. Who is this untamed creature of the desert that stands before me? Me! Lonely, lowly master poet laureate Akkeber. Speak to me your name, oh wonderful you!¡± ¡°Hey, are you listen¡­¡± ¡°Shhhhh!¡± he interrupts. ¡°No, no, no, no! Do not spoil it!¡± Releasing her, he steps away, staring skyward and with several grand gestures of the hands, proclaims, ¡°Name unknown¡ªunspoken!¡ªyou are as mysterious as the dawn meeting the sea! You alone are my muse. You enigmatic bumblebee! Seeking to pollinate the flower of my mind!¡± He pauses, profoundly pondering¡­ something. Probably. ¡°Inspiration! I¡¯ve got it!¡± He looks back at her gently yet excitedly gripping her shoulders again, ¡°I shall call you Bootia, girl of my dreams, woman of my waking nightmare! My next oeuvre¡ªmy magnum opus!¡ªwill be dedicated to you and you alone!¡± Akkeber spins on his heel and speeds away. Without turning back to face her he bellows, ¡°Fret not! Iron the wrinkles from your worried brow! For I will soon finish my new play, my dearest Bootia! Then, you and I shall craft a romance beyond any wordsmith''s reckoning! Our bodies the brushes, our fluids the ink!¡± Even though in the end nothing matters anyway, from the bottom of my heart, I truly hope we never meet again. She shrugs and turns her attention back to the surroundings. A hop, skip, and a jump away from the Residence District, Eidos spots a building similar in shape and construction to the Temple. People enter and exit freely, many carrying leatherbound tomes to and from it. And I guess those are the Archives where that Kaleki person works. Recalling the mage Pakahron¡¯s advice, she wonders if she should go investigate. ¡°Not too far off. Might as well, I guess.¡± Moving towards the open doors, she eventually crosses their threshold and enters the local scholar¡¯s haven. The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Impartial — A Departure A Departure _____________ Tambul ¨C The Archives The austerity of this building¡¯s exterior does not mislead: as without, so within. Before her is a single great hall, nearly unadorned and filled solely with shelves of tomes and rows of copying desks¡ªall filled with scholarly rumps. While the vaulted ceiling is impressive, no intricate designs detail its supports. Yet even in spite of its aesthetic dearth, the pearly, glowing tree at the archives¡¯ center shrouds the room in a dreamlike haze. A bark of marble white covers its thick limbs¡ªlimbs which creep about the entirety of the archives, stretching out like some sylvan giant just waking from a lengthy slumber. From cracks in its aged hide, bulbous crystalline protrusions pulse with a pale, white incandescence, casting rays of light about the structure. It¡¯s like the one in the Sanctuary¡­ but alive. The handful of individuals reading or copying texts are dwarfed by the arboreal behemoth, and rendered seemingly insignificant in contrast. Eidos lazily strolls around the archives, from shelf to shelf and tome to tome. Yet, with so much of the space occupied by the tree, it seems as though there is a relative poverty of written resources in this place. Many of the shelves lie empty and Eidos estimates that only roughly half the space is being filled with tomes. During her exploration, she also finds hints of a storied past when the archives were alive with decorations. The now all but barren walls, were clearly once painted with murals that have faded with the passage of time. Large swathes have been completely erased, but here and there a splash of color or a fleck of gilding betrays their former glory. Wait, is that a¡­ Her eyes lock onto one of the more intact murals. At first, it appears to be a stylistic representation of the massive tree dominating this very hall. Yet, there are a great number of differences both subtle and profane. In the faded fresco, the tree¡¯s roots are visible, seeming to sprout from the body of a woman buried beneath the tree. Red veins run through the roots, up the trunk, and blossom forth from the branches as crimson leaves. These stand in contrast to the silvered foliage of the archives¡¯ own tree. It looks a lot like the mural in the Sanctuary, what with the woman under the tree and all that nonsense. Parsing and surmising from nearly invisible outlines, Eidos sees¡ªor imagines¡ªtwo crows: one near the roots, pecking at the corpse, and another perched high in the uppermost branches, staring at the viewer with its coal-black eyes. Above the lofty crow is a white circle, like a bleached halo beaming light down upon the scene, the faded memory of an indecipherable Glyph lurking within. How many of these things are there, anyway? So far I¡¯ve seen Farcaster, Eidos, Fenrir, Luin¡ªdoes that one count?¡ª, Discipline, Wulfias, and the Occult¡­ so seven plus this one. At least eight. This one¡¯s different. Wonder what it does¡­ Maybe Fenrir will give it to me next time. Soon turning her attention from the walls to the shelves, Eidos scrutinizes the tomes, both covers and bindings. She stares, perplexed, at the leatherbound volumes, much as a beast may gaze upon masterworks of art. And as these would be impossible to appreciate to the beast, likewise are the tomes indecipherable to her. Can read some, but not others¡­ What am I missing? Not that being able to read them would help anyway. Soon, she has completed her rounds and returned to the entrance. Yawning, she considers exiting in search of green pastures. Body, didn¡¯t you come here to talk to Kaleki? Eyes search for her original purpose, finally landing on a rather grim-looking woman pacing the area with the bearing of authority. Yeah, I bet that¡¯s her. Feet move in pursuit. The pacing woman stops dead in her tracks once she notices Eidos¡¯ approach, a look of recognition on her face. She stands there, waiting for the visitor to come to her. Eidos simply continues her shuffle towards who she thinks must be Kaleki. The woman soon confirms all suspicions, saying, ¡°Biracul guide you, Eidos. I¡¯m Kaleki, Librarian of Tambul.¡± ¡°You know my name?¡± ¡°Pakahron informed me you might be paying the archives a visit. How may I serve you?¡± ¡°Not sure.¡± You moron! Ask about the memory issue and Neverborn mind structure or whatever it was! ¡°Or¡­ uh, on second thought¡­ What exactly is wrong with my brain?¡± For the love of¡­ A smile soon threatens to ruin Kaleki¡¯s perfect mask of indifference. Smothering the amusement with a practiced discipline, she offers, ¡°Ah, yes, about the memory issue, right? Well, your case is without precedent, honestly. Obviously, humans are born bereft of memories as infants, but the general consensus is that it¡¯s because there were none there to begin with. Being born an adult with no memories, well this is only seen among the Neverborn.¡± ¡°Born a Neverborn? You make no sense. I thought people like you were supposed to make sense.¡± Annoyance tugs a subtle snarl into her otherwise flat lips. ¡°I think you misunderstood me, Eidos.¡± Now completely regaining her composure, she continues, ¡°Neverborn are Vanquished automata used for different tasks, ranging from protection to manipulation of dangerous physical objects. Think of them as soul-less but thinking beings.¡± The sentry¡­ and maybe those different statues in the Wellspring¡­ and maybe the big blue creatures I saw, too(?). Vanquished automata, huh? Then who were the Vanquished? Despite seeing the vacant expression on Eidos¡¯ face, Kaleki proceeds undeterred, ¡°You clearly have a soul, and as such, we can assume you¡¯re not a Neverborn. But, not even the Emerald Architect himself was capable of creating a homunculus let alone a human¡ªthat¡¯s still firmly in the realm of fantasy. ¡°Consequently, I have no clue as to ¡®what¡¯ you are¡­ But rest assured I will scour the archives for an answer. It may take several weeks, though. But these things take time¡­¡± ¡°Forget it. Bye then.¡± That¡¯s rude¡­ Stunned by the rather abrupt farewell, an awkward silence ensues. Eidos shrugs and walks away. A look of utter confusion¡ªincredulity and wrath¡¯s bastard child¡ªprompts Kaleki to give chase and ask, ¡°Don¡¯t you want to know who you are?!¡± ¡°Not really,¡± Eidos says without turning around. Clearly flabbergasted at this point, the slighted Librarian¡¯s voice teases a volume inappropriate for an archives. ¡°Then why even bother asking in the first place?!¡± ¡°Not sure; just sorta did it; that happens to me a lot,¡± comes her reply as she exits, leaving a seething Kaleki in a past this Eidos will soon forget. This me sure knows how to make friends and influence people¡­ __________________ Tambul ¨C The Moon Tower Neither knowing nor caring where she heads, Eidos finds herself entering a keep surrounding the giant silver spire she saw upon exiting the Sanctuary. The Moon Tower, according to Heyar¡­ I wonder¡­ if he¡¯s still alive¡ªhe must be. Maybe my idiot body will go to the Dawn Fortress and find out. From this vantage point, it is difficult to tell how this structure was built. By all appearances, it is composed of a number of interlocking plates, though there are no signs of rivets or welds¡ªit seems the seams are more aesthetic choice than pragmatic necessity. This brilliant spire stands in stark contrast to the fortification that surrounds it. Blocks of sandstone form a modest keep around the tower, with walls both thick and high. The gates leading from the residential area and into the keep stand open, implying all have access to it. We could take a look from the ramparts. Should be able to see the Dawn Fortress and the canyon from there¡ªand who knows what else? Walking through the keep structure, searching for a way up to the top of the walls, Eidos finally comes to see the base of the tower. Up close, the staggering size of the tower is more evident than ever. So unfathomably wide that its circular base seems to draw a straight line in either direction. So unreasonably tall that it never seems to taper as it climbs skyward and disappears into the distance. The tower, however, is less inviting than the keep, as its front door is closed and flanked by guards. Eidos sees no way to access the bridge from here, but soon spies what appears to be a path leading around to the back of the tower. Circumnavigating the base for several minutes, she notes the third or fourth stories begin to sprout hundreds of windows, giving it the unsettling semblance of a metallic honeycomb. Within the span of a hundred paces, she stumbles upon a narrow stairway leading up. That¡¯ll likely get us to the top. She climbs and climbs until she reaches a landing atop the walls, and the vistas it affords. Casting her gaze out over the canyon, she absorbs the wonders of the landscape both natural and artificial. To the east, a sprawling fortress stands between her and a black point melting into the horizon. To the north of the inky dot is a sea of sparkling white. To the south, nothing but dust and sand. Huh, I can¡¯t really see the Obsidian Ruin from here¡­ I wonder if it would still freak me out as much as it did last time. Then turning to survey the western vistas, she sees nothing resembling life beyond city walls. They are locked in an ocean of sandy desolation. Far to the north, beyond the desert, appears to be far off hills, or unreachably distant mountains. To the south, nothing but endless dust and sand. A gentle breeze blows in from the west, rounding the tower and cooling her sun-baked skin. It carries with it the desert¡¯s lifeless scent. The tower is blocking both Dazir and the Sanctuary¡­ must be further east of Tambul than I thought. Nothing north or south, though¡­ This is it. Disrupting the serenity of the scene is the sound of somewhat muffled, scratching footsteps. Doesn¡¯t concern me. Eidos lazily hunts for the source to the left and then the right, spotting nothing, as the wind howls by mockingly. ¡°Stupid wind. Making me hear things.¡± Her natural state of boredom soon regained, she yawns widely, craning her neck. Only then does she notice that a rope dangles down from an opened window, wagging its tail excitedly as a man climbs towards the opening.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. I suppose I could climb it. She stares vacantly at the rope. ¡­perhaps in another lifetime. Time passes. How long? Too long. Eidos has already forgotten what she was looking at or even why she is here in the first place. Motion sparks a thought in her, the man she once watched now emerges and slides down his rope, right in front of Eidos. With only the slightest bit of surprise detectable upon his face, he regards her. Calculating. Assessing. Scheming. But she finds interpreting facial expressions too taxing an activity and thus just replies with a dumb but genuine smile. ¡°Lovely weather we¡¯ve been having¡­¡± the man says, breaking the silence. ¡°Sure. You can go now,¡± she replies, not wanting the exertion of a conversation at the moment. Taken aback, the man eyes her with suspicion before nodding his unspoken thanks. In a flash, the man slips away over the edge of the landing, leaving nothing behind but an open window and a mystery. This body doesn¡¯t care, and honestly, it doesn¡¯t much matter¡­ Let¡¯s just leave and do something else. Eidos sits down, leaning against the wall and staring out across the walls and the empty expanse beyond them. Were it not directly in her line of sight, she would have missed a covered portion on the ramparts, standing in stark contrast to its naked neighbors. Why does that part have a roof? Is it a garrison¡­ a guardhouse, maybe? As this thought fades into memory, she hears the tolling of a thick bell. Once. Twice. And on the third ring, a body, stiff as a corpse, appears to fly out from the covered area and into the canyon below. The ghastly sight sears itself into her retinas, leaving a temporary, flashing impression replaying itself over and over in her until it too fades. Let¡¯s go check it out, body. Better than staying here and roasting in the sun. Meaningless or not, I prefer going somewhere¡ªanywhere¡ªto doing nothing. Reluctantly, her body rises from its resting position and walks the length of the walls to the covered section at the far end of the battlements. ______________ Tambul ¨C The Mortuary In the shade stands a man, decked out in a heavy leather apron and matching leather gloves, both with dark stains splattered all over. At the center is a blanketed object resting upon a table. The man, walks over towards the table and begins to peel off the covering, revealing a rather grim sight. The bloated corpse of a dead man lies there, wan and motionless. Though miraculously the stench of death is absent. Hung upon the walls are numerous concoctions, some bubbling absent fire, others constantly shifting color, but not a single unremarkable one among them. The man attending the body is in his middle years. Heavyset and mustachioed, he looks more butcher than mortician. He performs his chores with the utmost precision and detachment, cleaning the cadaver and then rubbing ointments all over it. Large gashes made in the neck indicate the body has been drained of blood prior to this treatment ritual. Several corpses strung upside down over a vat at the far end of the area serve to confirm this suspicion. Finally noticing her presence, the mortician wipes the sweat off his brow and gives Eidos a quizzical glance. Eidos replies with her characteristic blank stare. The man laughs a hearty laugh and shouts, ¡°Well don¡¯t be shy! They don¡¯t bite, kid!¡± He waves her over. Eidos obliges. So you go when a random stranger beckons, but not when I ask you to? No, don¡¯t let this bother you; you can¡¯t let it bother you because there¡¯s not a damn thing you can do about it. ¡°Now, what in the name of the Obsidian Jinn¡¯s black arse are you doin¡¯ up here, outlander? You some kind of necrophile? That means death-lover, in case you¡¯re as dumb as you look.¡± ¡°Just kind of ended up here,¡± she says poking at some of the hanging corpses. Can you please not do that. ¡°Mind not touchin¡¯ the merchandise, sweetcheeks?¡± She gives it one last poke before moving away towards a large opening in the wall. ¡°Whoa there, kid! Not even Ark survived that fall!¡± he warns, soon walking over to pull her back. Before he reaches her, Eidos peeks over the edge. These walls overlook yet another ghastly sight, for in the canyon, far below, lies a veritable mountain of bones. She can just barely make out a pair of minuscule, fuzzy points near the pile and another one next to the grisly mound. ¡°Biracul¡¯s balls, you¡¯re worse than a child,¡± he says, pulling her over to stool and sitting her down. ¡°Careful your curiosity doesn¡¯t send you fallin¡¯ over the ramparts into the canyon, or you¡¯ll find yourself becomin¡¯ personally acquainted with the bones. And worse yet, I¡¯d have to explain to Pakahron how I let a clueless visitor kill her own fool self!¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t much matter; we all gotta die sometime,¡± she says growing bored with sitting. ¡°That¡¯s some dark shit, kid¡ªand that¡¯s comin¡¯ from me, a jinncursed mortician!¡± ¡°Maybe.¡± ¡°Well, nice havin¡¯ a chat, but maybe you should run along. I¡¯m sure you got places to be!¡± ¡°Not really. I don¡¯t really know where to go.¡± ¡°Well, then let me be your jinnlickin¡¯ tour guide¡ªit¡¯s not like I have a job or anythin¡¯! Right, so that big metal thin¡¯ is the Moon Tower, the main attraction of Tambul. And Tambul itself is the greatest and oldest of Kaban settlements, the very center of culture, life and prosperity in the Kabu region. ¡°Outside of these walls are the followin¡¯: sand, dust, more sand, truth-blind savages, sand, arrogant savages¡­ sand, rocks, mountains, dry riverbeds, and, you guessed it, plenty of sunshine! However, Tambul is my homeland so, maybe I¡¯m a little biased. And maybe you¡¯d like slummin¡¯ it somewhere else.¡± Eidos simply stares at the man only half focused, her maximum effort though it may be. ¡°Biracul¡¯s balls! You¡¯re as stubborn as a Suyuti in hot pursuit of a goat! What is it you want, outlander? Don¡¯t tell me you need some company from old Boz?¡± ¡°Why throw the bodies into the canyon?¡± she asks, ignorant of his annoyance. ¡°Why do Kabans do it or why do I do it?¡± ¡°Kabans.¡± ¡°To remember Ark¡¯s fall into the canyon.¡± ¡°You?¡± ¡°Because reverence towards the dead is a mistake made by heathens and superstitious fools. Else, it¡¯s just an affectation by the educated to exploit those superstitious fools. Why, I myself prepared Kambesh¡¯s body when folk demanded he be buried as one of them¡ªa testament to how well he controlled the hearts and minds of the truth-blind flock.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± she says, rising to leave. ¡°Ah, you leavin¡¯ so soon? And here I thought we were bondin¡¯!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t mind stayin¡¯ either; no difference to me.¡± ¡°No! Jinns take you, kid! I¡¯m up to my balls in corpses these days.¡± ¡°Why so many recently?¡± ¡°¡­I guess you haven¡¯t met this fellow¡¯s former co-worker,¡± he says slapping the body on the chest. ¡°A Daziran named Reba, works in the Hydroponics farm, generally heard before seen, voice only half as annoying as the words it forms¡­¡± He shivers. ¡°Thank Biracul¡ªand all the Jinns in the Graylands!¡ªthat she didn¡¯t choose to apprentice here, else I¡¯d be the one flyin¡¯ into the canyon¡ªwell, either me or her, ha!¡± ¡°Okay. I¡¯ve lost interest.¡± Rude as always, body. Eidos begins to walk down the nearby stairs, as Boz looks on in stunned silence. Halfway down the stairs she hears a raucous laughter echoing after her, followed by the words, ¡°You win this one, kid! Ha! Biracul guide you!¡± But she barely registers them and simply continues her descent. ___________________________ Tambul ¨C The Gate of Celestial Judgment The stairs end and Eidos enters a courtyard. The shimmering, doorless gate here permits a limited view of the canyon. While the sight of this deep scar in the earth¡¯s skin is truly breath-taking, it is eclipsed by the feat of unfathomable engineering spanning it¡ªHeaven¡¯s Bridge. Likely wrought by the same hands responsible for the Moon Tower, this bridge too consists of perfectly interlocking metallic pieces, like scales on an impossibly large serpent. Stretching out across the chasm, it slithers through the air absent any support structures and yet miraculously remains solid and unmoving. The sight is made even stranger by virtue of the massive archway hanging over the bridge entrance. There is some kind of visual distortion bending light at the threshold, as if a thin film of superheated air hung suspended between the metal pillars. That¡¯s probably the bridge to the Dawn Fortress¡­ might make for a more comfortable journey than a torrent of poisoned water. Nearby she hears a familiar voice yet cannot quite match it to a name or face. ¡°¡®Fairer than a polished gem, ¡°More robust than an egg-laying hen¡­¡¯ ¡°Hmm¡­ needs more vivid imagery¡­ I got it! ¡°¡®Love deeper than a Suyuti''s for their goat, ¡°Want to memorize your every bit by rote!¡¯ ¡°No! This is garbage, refuse, junk, rubbish, waste, dregs, dross, slag, and trash! All is trash compared to the wonder that is my wonderful Bootia!¡± Oh no¡­ body, hide. For the love of all that¡¯s sacred, hide. It¡¯s better for all parties involved. Rarely shying away from an opportunity to rest, Eidos steps back into the stairwell and sits down, away from admiring eyes. The voice continues, ¡°¡®More idle than the unemployed, ¡°Hotter than an asteroid¡­¡¯ ¡°...Or perhaps ¡®Closer to me than my hemorrhoid,¡¯ instead..? ¡°Gah! I need the brutal cruelty of the Dawn Fortress to move my pen beyond this writer¡¯s block! Yes! Only by submerging my seed into manure can it blossom into the most beautiful stalk of grain! ¡°When next we meet, you will have been immortalized in song, my sweet!¡± He begins to hum loudly, sharing his joy with an uncaring world. The poet¡¯s off-key humming grows quieter and quieter as he moves toward the Residence District, presumably to pack up his belongings for his next great excursion. Now, I¡¯m not so sure about going to the Dawn Fortress¡­ Eidos rises from her stony seat and moves toward the doorless gate. Well, as long as we avoid that guy, I guess it¡¯ll be fine. Two guards stand chatting near the archway, oblivious to her approach. What¡¯s the point of having guards if they¡¯re not going to watch what they¡¯re guarding? She continues her approach, aiming to walk through the transparent distortion in the gateway. Suddenly, one of the guards frantically scrambles to get her attention, grabbing her by the arm and firmly yanking her away from the gate. He begins his violent reproach, ¡°Biracul¡¯s balls! You almost got yourself dissolved, lady!¡± The guard quickly searches the ground for a loose stone and picks it up, only to then ceremoniously cast it through the distortion. It connects with the shimmering air, causing a violent reaction to take place. The rock dissolves from within, leaving not a single trace the thing had ever existed. ¡°Get it now?! That could¡¯ve been you!¡± he says pointing to, well nothing, now that the stone has dissolved. Doesn¡¯t matter. Death doesn¡¯t affect me. ¡°Look,¡± he continues, his tone softening, ¡°I don¡¯t know where you came from, but it¡¯s obvious you¡¯re not from around Kabu, at least. So lemme explain two things to you. ¡°Number one. The Tacribians on the other side of the bridge¡¯re on the brink of committing a Daziran genocide, something to do with a water dispute¡ªbut I don¡¯t know, nor do I care to find out the details of their conflict¡­ ¡°Which brings me to number two. If you wanna cross, oh we¡¯ll lower the barrier for you, but I¡¯m afraid you won¡¯t be coming back in after that. Pakahron made it abundantly clear to us that, even if Biracul himself came a-knocking, nothing gets in from the other side. ¡°So with that in mind, it¡¯s your call, lady.¡± He stares at her impatiently. ¡°Not sure. Maybe you can tell me what to do,¡± she replies. An incredulous guffaw from the guards has them in stitches. ¡°Did you hear that, Brus? She wants me to tell her what she should do! ¡°Well, Let¡¯s see, do we have a simpleton who¡¯ll follow any orders? Dawn Fortress! Or is she just lazy? Dazir! Ha!¡± The other guard chimes in, ¡°Hold up there, Arkal! The draug raids ended with Rikharr, didn¡¯t they?¡± Arkal picks up the flow, ¡°Meaning the Tacribs have just been sitting on their arses doing nothing anyway.¡± ¡°Exactly!¡± Brus agrees. ¡°So, follower or lazy, either way the Fort¡¯s the place for this one. Ha!¡± ¡°Sitting and doing nothing? You mean¡­ paradise?¡± Eidos asks in earnest. The guards stare at each other and then laugh so hard they fall to the floor. ¡°I can¡¯t take it! She¡¯s killing me!¡± ¡°Biracul¡¯s balls, she¡¯d be a perfect match for Akkeber!¡± Eidos smiles dumbly, naturally happy at others¡¯ happiness. My body may be stupid, but at least it¡¯s happy, I guess. The two stand up, chuckles still tugging at their guts. ¡°All right, lady, as you wish. The door to paradise is about to open!¡± he says as he pulls a small crystal from its casing. The shimmer vanishes. The path is revealed. She crosses the threshold, and no sooner is she passed the archway¡¯s pillars than does the shimmer return. Though a one-way trip it may be, perhaps it will be worth the journey. The guards laugh their farewells as she moves steadily across the bridge. The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Impartial — A Duty Most Sacred A Duty Most Sacred __________________________ The Dawn Fortress ¨C The Sun Keep Approaching the Tacribian side of Heaven¡¯s Bridge, Eidos sees the shattered stump of a structure that at one time must have cast a great shadow. In bygone eras, it was surely the Moon Tower¡¯s mirror image, but now all that remains is but a miserable vestige of a broken twin. While the blackened and melted form is at present but a lowly ruin, gleaming flecks sparkling in the midday sunlight reveal the golden luster it once bore. This must be the foot of the broken tower I saw down in the canyon. Her footsteps bring her closer to the singed remains, and she notices that a sandstone keep has been constructed around it. However, beyond this humble keep is a defensive fortification dwarfing the walls of the other Kaban settlements by several orders of magnitude. The fortress structure beyond the bridge is so vast, so incredibly expansive that its northern and southern edges seem to only begin where infinity ends. How many Tacribians are there, anyway? With a place like this, there must be at least five to every Daziran¡­ no wonder Khaa is worried. Finally entering the keep proper, Eidos notices the Tacribian warriors eyeing her with dispassionate gazes, most seeming somewhat dismissive of her presence. They make no attempt to bar her entry. The stonework all around is competently cut and mortared, albeit rough and worn. The passage through the keep here is narrow¡ªa final choking point before stepping out onto the bridge. It looks as though there is but one way forward, yet the curving path prevents her from viewing its destination. Eidos sees that human hands have bedecked the tower¡¯s charred corpse with bizarre ornamentation. Spear points, arrow heads and knives have been driven into cracks in its blackened surface. Small alcoves have been hollowed out and filled with inelegantly carved objects, cups and plates. Walking around the base, Eidos sees that there is an obscure shrine of some sort: a stone effigy of a vaguely feminine form clasping a jade sword. Standing in front of the shrine is an elderly woman, her gaze expectantly locked on Eidos. It¡¯s basically a bigger version of the small altar out in the canyon¡­ The canyon. ¡°Come here, foreigner!¡± the lady calls out. ¡°This is where you can make an offering to Ark, Archmage of the victorious dead, and savior of the Valvorthr!¡± Eidos stares blankly. ¡°Come,¡± the woman entreats. ¡°Come and share communion with those that saved Kabu from the greedy maw of the Wasteland in the dark of yesteryear.¡± ¡°No thanks,¡± comes Eidos¡¯ reply as she continues down the curving path. With inhuman speed, the old lady grabs Eidos¡¯ arm with a grip as crushing as it is insistent, ¡°But you must! Life in Kabu would be impossible without her sacrifice! You who would stay here, drink our water and rest in our shade, would you curse the hand that made it possible?¡± ¡°From what I hear, all you have is shade now.¡± Though said without malice, some truths may be best left unsaid. Wow, body. If these people are as savage as the other towns say they are, I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re in for another death. Enjoy. Indignant rage boils the patience from the elder¡¯s tone. She grips tighter. When she finally speaks, out come the words more bestial growl than human speech, ¡°Ark fell to protect Daziran ingrates and truth-blind foreigners alike. Your death here would dishonor her memory.¡± She spits a dry discharge and then licks her cracked lips. ¡°Jinns take you!¡± The woman releases Eidos and turns to renew her worship. Rubbing out the pain, Eidos moves forward along the path, quickly forgetting the encounter. ______________________________ The Dawn Fortress ¨C The Proving Grounds The path widens, emptying out into an area dominated by a large pit of cordoned-off sand. The Tacribian warriors here are seen thrusting blunt-ended spears at each other, dodging with practiced grace. The midday sun would broil their flesh were the pit not in the penumbra of the broken, yet nonetheless imposing, tower. The soldiers seems to keep their exertions brief. Training for but a few minutes before stopping to rest as they begin to perspire. A child walks among them dispensing small measures of water. They sure don¡¯t look like they¡¯re just sitting idly by¡­ The sounds of bodies striking the sand and grunts of exertion ring loudly from the pit itself. But from the sidelines, the eyes of many exhausted warriors lock upon her with glowers of suspicion. Yet these are quickly distracted when the water bearers finally reach them¡ªnot even their battle-hardened faces are capable of masking their dire thirst. Annoyed by the heat, and disappointed by the bustle, Eidos continues forward, in search of the lazy paradise the Tambulan guards had promised. The Proving Grounds naturally lead into what seems to be the central space of the Fortress complex, this a large courtyard through which soldiers come and go. At the edge of the courtyard is a tremendous, black iron gate, which is in turn dwarfed by the unfathomably large bulwark in which it is embedded. However, looking away from the courtyard reveals an area that looks to be an amphitheater of some kind. Beside it, a massive dome sits beneath the end of the Tacribian aqueduct, drier than the desert sand surrounding it. Seeking shade and solitude¡ªor more likely, just a seat¡ªEidos moves toward the dome. ______________________________ The Dawn Fortress ¨C The Temple of Biracul Walking within the stone structure, Eidos is met with a vision that defies all expectations. While the exterior was a rough brown stone, the interior is lined with white limestone and brilliant marble. Several paths lead from as many doors toward a central hub, like spokes on a cart wheel. The voids between them expose the sloping floors beneath and reveals a recession into an infinitely deep spiral consumed by shadows at its depths. The dome in which she stands seems to be but the uppermost part of this inexplicable structure. All is lit by a large aperture in the top of the dome. The rays of sunlight showering down upon the room are refracted and scattered through numerous prisms, lighting the interior with a gentle glow. A bit of sun, however, is discourteously obstructed by the terminus of the Tacribian aqueduct¡ªdry now, but Eidos can nearly envision water cascading down from it. Memories from when I was carried on a liquid chariot to receive my ¡®reward¡¯? Grandiose though the temple may be, it looks to be unfinished and unused. There are no decorations to speak of and seemingly no paraphernalia of worship, save one. Sitting upon a large raised platform in the middle of the room is a solitary stone chair, serving as the room¡¯s sole furnishing. But furniture is not the only scarce resource in the room; likewise, as far as Eidos can tell, not even a single human shadow haunts the temple. Of course, there¡¯s no water, so why would there be people?This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Walking around the perimeter of the central hub, Eidos notices there is a simple, but lengthy font of exceptional depth and a lone cleric lying prostrate before it in the utter silence of stillness. The font appears to have once been full of water, but is now so dry it would make the Wastes jealous. So this guy is here praying the water returns? Well, if it did return, you¡¯d be praying it never came. At the clicking of Eidos feet upon the marble floor, the cleric slowly rises. ¡°Greetings, stranger, and welcome to Biracul¡¯s house. Have you come to prepare for your death?¡± comes his rather morbid inquiry in an equally somber tone. ¡°Nope, just wandered in here looking for a quiet place to rest¡­¡± ¡°Well, you¡¯ve found one such a place. Few visit the Shining One¡¯s temple now. Too afraid to face their own faults.¡± He looks wistfully at the empty font to his right. ¡°But you¡¯re here, by divine guidance; Biracul¡¯s light illuminated your path. It¡¯s not too late to begin preparing for your end, child.¡± ¡°Does it involve sitting? I¡¯ve been walking for days now.¡± The cleric motions for her to sit at the font¡¯s edge, and sit she does, but the cleric remains standing himself. Now towering over her, he continues his sermon, ¡°Many are those content to live on as though their life were an inexhaustible well. But, they can only hope death comes quietly and without warning; for they know in their heart they have not prepared themselves by gaining Awareness.¡± Eidos now lies down and stretches out her tired limbs. She breathes in deeply, completely relaxing upon the subsequent exhalation. Pretending not to notice her bizarre level of comfort in such a public location, the cleric renews his speech, ¡°For no one foresees their own death, child; our eyes are so naturally dim that we cannot see what so clearly lies before us.¡± Why are you so worried about death? I thought¡­ ¡°Tacribians were supposed to be bloodthirsty savages. Aren¡¯t they fond of it?¡± The cleric regards her, incredulity prying his jaw apart. ¡°Fond of it? Fond of death! You¡¯ve been stung the Daziran¡¯s poisoned tongue! Or perhaps infected by the Tambulan¡¯s ignorant speculations!¡± He breathes, trying to rein in his emotions. Did my body just complete my thought? No, it must have been a coincidence¡­ Composure regained, the man continues. ¡°No man, Tacribian or otherwise, can outrun death¡¯s terror! Even if we find inexhaustible water, even if we defeat all our enemies, even if we outwit the very Jinns themselves, even then death is patiently waiting at the end of it all to rip our Trueflesh from the False!¡± ¡°And? What¡¯s so bad about eternal sleep? I love sleep,¡± she says on the brink of consummating her professed love. He frowns, the deep creases etched into his furrowed brow from a lifetime of worry now seeming to etch themselves into his very skull. ¡°Pulling a mask of frivolity over the face of death does not unmake it, child!¡± He receives no response other than a faint prelude to a snore. ¡°Run from truth if you wish. You¡¯ll find your course is always an unending circle.¡± He begins to walk toward a set of descending stairs. ¡°I leave you with the words of Biracul, may they guide your preparation for what¡¯s to come: ¡°¡®The Many are but a part of the One,¡¯ he says. ¡®Our experience but a shadow of the truth. Though the ant bears a lone grain of sand, the nest is a mighty creature.¡¯ And now I leave in His light having done my part.¡± You have no idea how right you are about the unending circle. His piece spoken, the cleric descends the stairs into the spiraling structure and into its hidden depths. Eidos sleeps. When she awakens, the sky has dimmed. It¡¯s morning dum-dum. You slept through the night. She lightly scratches her belly and regains a seated posture. Then, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she yawns the yawn of awakening, finally having slept her fill. Time to go. Anywhere. I don¡¯t care where, just anywhere but here. As of instinct, she rises and begins to walk. Where? She could not really care any less. Though she may not like it, she knows she has to keep moving. ________________________ The Dawn Fortress ¨C The Amphitheater Eidos finds herself in an austere amphitheater nestled against the inner wall. Though perhaps the exact antithesis of ostentatious, it is no less remarkable for its impeccable architecture. A smooth, alabaster quarter-dome acts as the stage, a subtly translucent half-dome acting as the roof. Her footfalls echo from the stone surfaces all about, revealing the reasoning behind the placement of this structure. Surely a voice performing at the center of this stage would clearly reach all ears. Scanning the vacant stone benches, she can almost see a dim afterimage of an enthralled audience, cheering in raucous ecstasy. Though she knows Tacribians only for a bellicose nature, this area hints at a gentler side¡ªthe sheath to their sword. The brutish grunts of exertion from the nearby Proving Ground call her back to the stark reality of an empty theater. While this place is well-maintained, it is utterly forsaken, but for a solitary man of middle age, dutifully sweeping the area free of dust. Him, and a dozing Akkeber stretched out along one of the benches. He actually came?! Just keep sleeping! The middle age man has eyes of the kindest sort and a smile to match. ¡°Nothin¡¯ to see here, outlander,¡± he offers with a remorseful nod. ¡°Wish we could be better hosts, but hasn¡¯t been any entertainment here for quite some time; doubt it''ll change anytime soon either¡­¡± ¡°Not really looking for anything in particular. Just kinda wandering for now.¡± ¡°Is that so, well then may Ark watch over you and may Biracul lead you to where you need to be, outlander.¡± And with that, the man continues sweeping. Let¡¯s get out of here, before Akkeber wakes up. Try as she may, she cannot convince herself that all things are meaningless. And as such, she desperately searches for her escape. A flight of stairs. Ascending. Good enough. Her feet thus come to her aid and carry her up and away. ______________________ The Dawn Fortress ¨C The Walls Ascending the stairway, Eidos alights atop the high walls of the Dawn Fortress. Looking out from the ramparts, the deathly visage of the Wasteland sears itself into her mind. The immediate area is unrelentingly bleak, with drifting dunes and blowing sand the dominant sights. However, the distant horizon makes no promises of what lies at its edge; it even seems to be fading from view, from memory, and even from the very fabric of reality. A haze of shimmering light ripples upon the air. Barely revealed vistas swirl in and out of perception. Whether the ever-shifting shapes be structures, mountains or some other bizarre and twisted feature is impossible to determine, as fixing her gaze on a single point fails to coax the distant dancing visions to coalesce into a definitive form. Maybe I¡¯ll go that way next time I get exiled¡­ With a subtle shiver and a shake of her head, Eidos breaks the enthralling influence of the Wastes. Looking about, she notices that she is not alone here. An armed woman stands a short way off, her gaze spellbound to that uninviting expanse of land stretched out before them. However, her eyes are brimming with tragic purpose; they refuse to alter their course and will only ever be directed toward the northeast. It¡¯s her¡­ the girl from the Wasteland. Eidos turns her gaze to where this warrior¡¯s eyes fall. There, pearly pillars jut from the sands like a thousand skeletal fingers clawing through their burial mounds. She hasn¡¯t gone to the Salt Forest yet to kill Shen, then. But Eidos soon brings her attention back to the woman herself. Hardened by sights unmentionable, tested by trials unbearable, yet retaining an unmistakable grace in spite of it all. I¡¯d like to speak with her. She approaches the solitary Tacribian. The woman speaks without shifting her gaze from the northeast. ¡°I am Valvorthr Fwayya, bound by honor to Shariken Shen,¡± she says. ¡°Ark willing, I offer you my ear, that I may somehow aid you as a final service in Her name.¡± ¡°Not really interested in talking.¡± Not what I hoped you¡¯d say, body. ¡°As you please, outlander. My circuit draws near and the Wastes demand my presence, but if need should arise before I depart, I¡¯ll do whatever I can to assist you. For the good of the League and the future of Kabu.¡± Eidos smiles at Fwayya and then the two stare off into the distance in mirrored silences. The irreverent winds, however, loudly howl at the fortress gates, while the sun roasts the horizon, and in between them, the sands shift peacefully from dune to wretched dune in the grip of lifelessness. The Tacribian warrior seems to be attracted and bound to the inimical Wastes by some unseen and irresistible force, surely more so than sanity would ever permit. Shen must have meant a lot to her. Don¡¯t worry; death isn¡¯t permanent. Eidos scans the horizon one last time, sweeping across with her gaze as a temporary focusing of the vapors and stilling of the winds reveal a clearer picture. Far off to the southeast a shining black crater belches mephitic fumes. To the east is a structure leading down into a valley of some sort. And back toward the northeast she sees the forest of symmetrically arranged salt pillars. Fwayya at last turns around, nods sullenly and begins her descent toward the Amphitheater. Though her facade may be strong and independent, the innocent honesty of her eyes betrays immeasurable sadness. I wish I could help her¡­ She pauses. Yeah, me, the cold-blooded, nihilistic murderer wants to help someone. How pathetic. Fwayya¡¯s path, however, Eidos has deemed unsuitable for herself and thus she explores an alternate course. Not too far from her current locus, a passage of stairs toward the southern end of the wall leads down into the fortress wall itself. But wait¡­ if nothing matters? Then I¡¯m free to care, despite my mistakes¡­ right? Feet shuffle, taking both person and thoughts now deep into the belly of the fortress walls. The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Impartial — A Return to the Wastes A Return to the Wastes _______________________ The Dawn Fortress ¨C The Archives She walks and walks, passing through narrow corridors this way and that. She descends, deeper into the earth. Soon, the walls shift from crafted bricks carefully layered atop one another into solid bedrock roughly hewn. In the deeper reaches, the ceiling is bound with nets hung to catch falling debris. This looks less like a fort and more like a mine¡­ what is it these Tacribians do again? Eidos penetrates deeper into the earth until the path opens up. A chamber. Shelves. Tomes upon them. Austere and utterly simple. The Dawn Fortress Archives, I guess. Several black iron brackets house crystalline illuminators, though their meager light fades well below the hidden pinnacle of the vaulted ceiling. While a fair number of tomes line the shelves of this library, the dimensions of this space are far in excess of what would be required to hold such a humble quantity of work. The center of the chamber¡¯s floor is also marked by absence, a dirt-filled but otherwise empty, circular space having been fashioned into the stonework. Numerous milky crystals dot the earth within, all inert. It looks to be in preparation for some structure or decoration that was left unfinished. Eidos¡¯ entrance has aroused the attention of the Archive¡¯s sole occupant, a youthful lady with long, fiery hair tightly braided on top with the surplus cascading down upon her shoulders, framing her deep set eyes and prominent check bones. Her sharp countenance displays both a sense of ease as well as penetrating awareness. Logira. Just keep her hand away from your head, body. Eidos continues to idly wander among the shelves, and though Logira pursues her with a relentless gaze, she makes no attempt to stop Eidos. Wait, wasn¡¯t Heyar exiled for trespassing in the Archives¡­? Looking around these adumbral Archives, Eidos sees that there is a sizable fresco painted upon the wall, opposite the front entrance. While it is impossible to determine its age for certain, the art here looks relatively fresh, with vibrant colors visible even in the modest amber light. Still looks a bit worn, but not nearly as much as the ones in the Sanctuary and the Tambulan Archives. The image is of an imposing silver tree with brilliant golden foliage. Its knotted roots are depicted as unfurling like white tendrils down into the tenebrous space beneath. An army of hideous skeletal creatures appear to be assailing the tree, though they are held at bay by a woman wielding a spear painted in a shimmering metallic green. Luin, ever-present where there¡¯s blood to be shed, aren¡¯t you? Suddenly, Eidos hears a child¡¯s innocent laughter echoing towards her and idly searches for the source. She sees it not and simply shrugs in response before renewing her half-hearted examination of the fresco. Looking up the base of the majestic tree, Eidos notes three distinct animals among its branches: a serpent, a crow and, curiously, a wolf. Rays of metallic gold and red are seen radiating from the tree, as though it itself were casting divine light. What do these damn trees do anyway¡ªother than host a bunch of bizarre creatures? Also, why the crows, serpents, and wolves? I mean, the wolf has to be Fenrir, right? She hesitates. Hold up. I¡¯m getting too invested in this again. Above this, Eidos sees one further image painted in an understated hand, as if an afterthought. Behind the scene a disembodied eye surveys all that is in and around the tree. Shivers bring movement to her otherwise frozen frame. Awareness begins to dawn within her, as though she is on the brink of an epiphany. She focuses, trying to remember a time from before she had memory. She sees it, knows it, for the briefest of instants. But then¡­ The insight disappears, and all knowledge of it along with it, save for the impression that she once knew something and is much poorer for having lost it. She yawns and lightly scratches her belly, growing bored with the examination. But a sharp reflection of light catches her eye and draws her sight toward the base of the fresco. A metallic protrusion stares back with its blinding mirror-polish. However, upon reaching to touch it, Eidos feels the watchful eye of the Librarian right behind her. Eidos turns to face Logira only to find a great distance yet between them, bridged by a smoldering stare. It leaves little doubt that further tampering with the device will be met with¡­ resistance, to say the least. Maybe messing with that thing is what got Heyar locked up¡­ Logira didn¡¯t seem pleased with you looking at it just now, body. Eidos feels compelled to cease her investigation of the switch for now and renews her exploration of the Archives. Browsing around the shelves, Eidos spies an ancient tome related to combat¡ªone appearing to have been translated into the modern tongue. Merely by viewing it, she commits it to memory. THE ART OF COMBAT ¡®Theory of Combat¡¯ cr. Drago Gulga of Turrok trans. Adarin of Kabu The principles of combat have remained unchanged since the very dawn of humanity. Given that the first technique to land will have the first effect, it is imperative that our attack arrive before the enemy can react. This self-evident truth notwithstanding, we cannot forget that the force of our attack must also be considered. Thus, it is that under our current methodology, we must first observe our opponent¡¯s stance to determine the speed with which he will strike; then we are to choose a response that is faster, yet that maximizes our power. As an example, if our foe were to stand with their weapon at their hip, it would mean that they are about to strike with an attack of moderate speed and power. We must therefore act with a swift thrust to disrupt and intercept this strike, yielding a clean strike for us and a fatal miss for them. Practice is required to gain experience and experience is required to survive. Only when we can determine the speed and power level from a stance can we survive. Remember: Forewarned is forearmed. As always, we must study judiciously to make the best use of time. A fitting work to have in their library, I suppose¡­ No more tomes here seem to her worth the effort of committing to memory. From her cursory survey, it looks as though much of this Archives¡¯ work is concerned with details of religion, history and accounts of war. These are the words of a folk both lost and resolute. Leafing through a few select tomes, Eidos notes that the religious texts speak of a removal from home, a loss of past and a confusion of meaning. Many of the prayers seem to belie a distinct sense of an unheeding and unsympathetic heaven. Salvation seems found in the tomes of warcraft, which speak of feats of heroism, cunning, and fellowship in the face of sacrifice. Laced throughout, is a profound sense of resentment at a betrayal that can never be forgiven. Likely something the Dazirans did¡­ no wonder the Tacribians hate them so much. But I wonder what exactly the betrayal could¡¯ve been¡­ Eidos feels Logira¡¯s penetrating gaze intensify. She slowly turns to find the Librarian now standing right behind her. Perhaps having had enough of Eidos¡¯ unexplained presence or perhaps from mere curiosity, the Librarian now stares at her point blank. An effortless stealth in step has brought her silently to her quarry, not from an attempt to hide her approach, but from a habitual caution. Likewise, a delicate serenity in tone carries the melody of her voice quietly to Eidos¡¯ ears. ¡°Biracul bless you, outlander. I¡¯m Logira, Librarian of the Tacribian people. To aid is my life and will.¡± Their gazes meet, eyes locking. ¡°Though I must admit, I do find it puzzling that you would come to this fortress at such dire times¡­¡± ¡°Was kinda tricked into thinking this would be paradise.¡± ¡°Paradise..?¡± ¡°Yep, the guards across the bridge said you¡¯d been doing nothing since the draug raids ended¡ªwhatever that is. Said Rikharr or someone brought the last of them and that you were sitting down all day. Sounded great to me,¡± says a smiling Eidos. Logira¡¯s expression sours. ¡°They said that, did they?¡± Then looking towards the painting of the tree, she adds, ¡°Radysar¡¯s ignorance infects Tambulans even to this day¡­ that wicked stone she cast centuries ago yet ripples across time.¡± ¡°Sure. Can I go now? I¡¯d like to rest.¡± Yes, of course, she snuck up on you for no reason other than to chat. ¡°Yes, we can leave the Archives together. I¡¯ll take you to a place where you can eat a meal and then rest.¡± Wait, really? Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°Okay, but I¡¯m not hungry.¡± That¡¯s true¡­ I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever been hungry¡­ though I was thirsty after I woke up in Dazir¡­ wasn¡¯t I? But why am I not thirsty now? ¡°Then perhaps just rest.¡± She begins her silent glide toward the one door leading to and from the Archives. Might as well go with her, I guess. Eidos¡¯ feet lumber lazily in pursuit of the Librarian. _______________________ The Dawn Fortress ¨C The Barracks Myriad forgotten steps bring the two to a living quarters. Here, the midday sun desperately tries to creep in through thin surveillance slits in the walls¡ªthough the persistent rays find only limited success, as these barracks seem to mirror the reserved and guarded Tacribians who built them. Logira soon stops and turns to face Eidos. Pointing to a nearby chair, she says, ¡°Sit. I¡¯ll go request an audience with Master Khlutt.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because any and all guests to the Fortress must be aware of our protocols if they are to spend time here and our mage will explain everything in great detail.¡± ¡°Sure, why not?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll return shortly.¡± ¡°Take your time. I¡¯ll just be here resting.¡± Eidos sits and immediately lets her mind wander. Fine, just don¡¯t fall asleep. A silent stillness rules over this place, as midday is no time for a warrior to be idle, it seems. However, in a far corner, there look to be three occupants engaged in a conversation so quiet that Eidos failed to notice their presence until this very moment. But attention brings awareness and clarifies their muffled speech, allowing it to ring crystal clear within her ears. ¡°It¡¯s a bitter wind blowing from the Wastes these past eves¡­ I like it not,¡± says the weathered voice of an old man. ¡°What¡¯d you expect?¡± chimes in a new voice, its youthful vigor in sharp contrast to the first. ¡°The Wastewinds are always as fell as Rikharr¡¯s stinking arse, theses nights or any other, from before the beginning.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re a deedscribe now, are you, Imat?¡± a third, distinctly feminine voice asks. ¡°Perhaps Logira will have a challenger soon!¡± Young Imat sneers at her, but holds his tongue. The lady continues, ¡°It¡¯s for the best Diya steers clear of the Wastes, though. Ranging ill-suits him, older than Ark as he is¡­¡± Imat¡¯s the young one, Diya¡¯s the old one, but who¡¯s the snarky lady. She seems annoying¡­ ¡°I¡¯ll have your silence, Xerk!¡± Imat bellows, finally unleashing his tongue. ¡°What Diya says with his fretting you say with your jibes. We¡¯re all worried about Shen. But there¡¯s nothing we can do for him now.¡± Shen. The old man amends the statement, ¡°Look, Shen¡¯s disappearance is only the latest in a series of jinnborn horrors! That draugnir Fwayya and her Shariken tracked from Land¡¯s End into the Salt Forest during her last circuit begs the question of how in Ark¡¯s name it got beyond the Beacon in the first place!¡± Imat adds, ¡°True! And what¡¯s more, where they found it oughta be beyond the wraithglow, but Fwayya nearly fell to it¡ªwould¡¯ve too, if it hadn''t been for Shen¡¯s sacrifice.¡± Diya picks up the thread, ¡°And if that¡¯s not enough, I myself heard voices and jinnwhispers on the air some nights ago¡­¡± Xerk smirks derisively, ¡°Ha! Voices! Don¡¯t let Khlutt hear you say that; he doesn¡¯t look favorably upon those who hit the Jinn-liquor while on watch.¡± But soon her tone takes on a serious tinge, ¡°But if you¡¯re really so curious, then why don¡¯t we do a little investigating of our own..? Perhaps we¡¯ll even find Shen while we¡¯re at it¡­¡± ¡°I know the Wastes like the back of my hand! If the wraithglow¡¯s not got him yet, I can find him!¡± says Diya with a resolve more solid than the walls he protects. ¡°Neither of you jinnlickers are going anywhere you¡¯re not instructed to go!¡± Imat shouts. Then, realizing just how loud he was being, continues again in a whisper before his seething elders can get a word in, ¡°Fwayya was bound by duty to leave her Shariken in the Salt Forest; and she had the wisdom to follow through. A true Tacribian she is! Our wills are deferred to the League for the good of the League, and don¡¯t you forget it!¡± A momentary silence falls upon the interlocutors as they reflect and lament. ¡°Besides, you two have neither the right nor the wit to undertake your own draug-brained scheme to rescue Shen, ha!¡± A poor attempt at levity pulls the words from Imat¡¯s mouth. ¡°I¡¯m not worried about Shen; he can take care of himself!¡± Xerk snaps. ¡°Fact is, he might be safer out there than those of us still in the fort, if that Kharrspawn Khaa has his way¡­¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about, pup!¡± says Diya. ¡°You¡¯ve never ranged past the Nearwaste. Never seen the wraithglow of the forest¡ªor what it does to a ranger¡­ I¡¯d not even wish it on a jinnlickin¡¯ Daziran!¡± Xerk frowns looking as if she will argue, but Diya just keeps on speaking. ¡°You¡¯ve never been in view of the Stilled Sand Crater at Ark¡¯s Beacon and seen those wandering draugnir¡­ staring back at you from across the fields of icesand with their eyes, blacker than the Obsidian Ruin¡­¡± Diya gets up to stare through a surveillance slit, out into the Wastes. Though the trio is far, Eidos can clearly see the fear in his eyes. ¡°No, I haven¡¯t,¡± Xerk concedes. ¡°But I have seen what a day¡¯s thirst can do to a strong ranger within these walls! But, maybe you¡¯re right. Maybe all the draugnir are about to descend on us led by the Obsidian Jinn herself. It all means nothing!¡± You¡¯re absolutely right about that. ¡°Because if we don¡¯t take care of Dazir and the Wellspring soon, all the draugnir will find is a fortress full of parched corpses!¡± ¡°So first you want to range into the Wastes to save Shen and now you want to slit Daziran throats?¡± asks Imat incredulously. ¡°You do realize they¡¯re on the opposite ends of the jinncursed map, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Well we need to do something!¡± she says growing louder. ¡°Yeah, and that something is saving Shen, Ark protect him,¡± says Diya. ¡°Melinoe¡¯s lips for both of you!¡± shouts Imat, stunning the two to silence. ¡°You¡¯ve sworn your blood-oath to obey your mage! If Khlutt says to go find Shen, we range; if he says to kill all the people of Kabu, we fight; if he says to linger here and perish by thirst or slaughter, we wither¡­¡± Logira¡¯s tap on Eidos¡¯ shoulder comes as a surprise, startling her. ¡°Come,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ll take you to Master Khlutt.¡± But quickly regaining her utter apathy, she replies, ¡°If you say so.¡± The door is a mere five paces from where she sat, the sign above it offering nothing more than the word ¡®Gymnasium¡¯ written in a blocky script. And now we meet Khlutt again, though under very different circumstances, I suppose. _______________________ The Dawn Fortress ¨C The Mage¡¯s Abode Light pours in through long, narrow windows high on the western walls, like a dozen eyes peering down in divine judgment. Beneath these windows, another set of eyes scornfully appraises Eidos from the shadows¡ªeyes she cannot see, but whose vivisecting gaze she can most palpably feel. ¡°Approach.¡± A voice solid in its self-assuredness commands her, though the curtain of brilliance the windows¡¯ light casts makes it impossible to determine who¡ªor what¡ªlurks in the wall¡¯s penumbra but fifty paces hence. Khlutt. I¡¯d recognize that cocky old man¡¯s voice anywhere. She begins to carve a path through the dust motes floating in the afternoon sun, getting ever closer to that motionless creature. Twenty paces off, the form gains in clarity. More onyx statue than human being, Khlutt sits on an elevated platform, immobile, absolute, and intractable. His oppressive aura is enough to make the brave cowardly and the belligerent docile. Within ten paces, he authoritatively raises a hand commanding her to stop. The shadowy figure now finally comes into focus. Lines sharpen and colors separate. Sitting there before her is a lean, somewhat muscular man of advancing years, his face etched with a perpetual scowl. To say Khlutt was unenthusiastic about her approach would be to call the sun lukewarm. For the moment, he simply glares at Eidos from on high. Calculating. Assessing. Planning. But after a lengthy silence and a domineering staredown, he deigns to speak. ¡°Be silent, outlander. My Truesight will speak your true intentions for you. And if I don¡¯t like what I find, I¡¯ll cripple your Falseflesh along with the True¡­¡± Just try it, asshole! I¡¯ve got ways to protect myself now! Instinct becomes will, will then becoming thought. An image forms in her mind, burning out indigo lines from hidden dimensions. An unseen circle manifests, weaving an intricate tapestry of lines, never crossing, as they traverse planes both seen and unseen linking paths among them. Hidden Mind descends like a curtain upon the window of her mind, now hiding her thoughts from prying sight. Khlutt¡¯s expression turns from derision, to confusion, finally warping into wrath and contempt¡¯s bastard. ¡°Your mind is stained! You Unseen scum!¡± Now rising from his platform, ¡°You¡¯d imitate Ormenos? Then be thorough and share his fate!¡± Ormenos? The Trueflesh from the blue crystal? Khlutt knew him? A Glyph appears beneath her, its blazing dark fire carving a void into the floor. What¡¯s that? Her knowledge of the Glyphs seems to flicker and then disappear in an instant, and Khlutt soon blitzes toward her with inhuman speed. Luin? The mage will soon be upon her. Luin! Only silence. Khlutt is now within striking distance. Desperation takes hold and Eidos throws her fists wildly at the advancing mage. But any and all attacks appear to be futile before him. He moves lithely, dodging every attack Eidos plans to use before she can even use it, his careful positioning and smooth footwork the cause. In a flash, he is behind her. A mind-numbing fear drains her courage. A searing pain. The floor rises. Vision blurs. Then focuses. On a hobnail sandal? Khlutt¡¯s? Connecting with her face. Darkness. The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Impartial — A Second Chance A Second Chance _________________________ The Wasteland ¨C The Gates of Dawn Two slits split open an otherwise unbroken darkness, light and its companion pain forcing their way through. What happened? Eidos squints, trying to regulate the flow of her visual floodgates as she grows accustomed to her reawakening consciousness. Khlutt attacked me, and then¡­ She feels the rhythmic dance of her digits, her limbs, and finally her body as blood pulsates through them. He sealed off my Glyphs¡­ but how? Aching muscles contract uneasily, fibers sliding against each other like rusted iron rods. But eventually she manages to pry herself from the ground, kneeling on the desert sand. Biracul¡¯s balls! Am I in the Wasteland again?! Suddenly, Eidos feels a gentle tap on her shoulder. She spins violently towards the perceived threat, but her gaze is met with what can only be described as the antithesis of danger. Before her stands a terrified and scrawny fellow in a turquoise robe. Heyar! You are alive again! I¡¯m so sorry about last time! She wipes away the tears inexplicably welling up in her eyes. The man, equally startled by Eidos¡¯ sudden movement, falls back with a weak yelp. Shaking and blinking the fear from his eyes, a look of once forgotten excitement draws the corners of his lips up into a shit-eating grin. ¡°Ha ha! You¡¯re awake now, are you? Splendid!¡± he squeals, half glee half nerves. ¡°What happened?¡± We got our ass kicked by Khlutt, that¡¯s what. ¡°You mean you don¡¯t remember your brief tussle with the magelord of the Dawn?! Well, he certainly does! Ha ha!¡± ¡°What I meant was, what happened after that?¡± Actually, that¡¯s a good question¡­ ¡°Oh. Well, let¡¯s see¡­ You were brought to the courtyard, given a formal trial as an Unseen, and then summarily exiled!¡± ¡°Ah. Gotcha.¡± Heyar looks off toward the burning eastern horizon. ¡°Hmm... I spy Ark¡¯s Beacon off there to the east; quite a trip, I dare say¡ªthen again, anywhere in this strange land would be! Ha ha!¡± Oh no, this is the same bit as before. He wants to travel with me. ¡°I say we¡ªyou and myself, that is¡ªtackle the Wasteland together! Your brawn and my brain might just get us through! What say you?¡± No! Absolutely not! I don¡¯t want to kill you again¡­ ¡°Didn¡¯t I just lose the only fight I¡¯ve ever had? Not sure I have much brawn to speak of¡­¡± ¡°Ho ho! A valid counterargument!¡± he says with a mirthful laugh before adding, ¡°Though ¡®not much¡¯ beats ¡®none¡¯¡ªwhich happens to be the exact amount of brawn I claim ownership of! Ha ha!¡± Heyar laughs. Uncontrollably. Tickled in the extreme by the hilarity of his own words. His eyes tear up with the sheer and utter genius of his joke. ¡°Not sure why you¡¯re laughing,¡± she says, genuinely confused. Doesn¡¯t matter. But whatever you do, don¡¯t accept his offer to travel together! Minutes pass and Heyar¡¯s giggling fit tapers into isolated pockets of chuckles. He blushes, now a little self-conscious. ¡°Oh. Sorry! Ho ho! The danger with having such a keen intellect is that it allows one to see the humor in everything! Ha ha!¡± ¡°If you say so.¡± ¡°You seem like a fine traveling companion for the Wastes! So? Shall we explore our tomb together, chum?¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t much matter to me. But I¡¯d rather find some shade and a place to rest.¡± No! Not again! Please! The scholar grins so widely it nearly separates his jaw from his face. ¡°Splendid! And if it¡¯s shade you desire, no better place than Ark¡¯s Beacon off yonder!¡± He points to the shimmering dot on the eastern horizon. ¡°Tally ho! Let¡¯s beginning our exploration!¡± Eidos watches as Heyar walks off toward the desert spire, the Daziran scholar gleefully muttering to himself and making strange gesticulations, as though lecturing to the dust and stones. She shambles after him, beginning to bake in the afternoon sun. I won¡¯t let it happen again. I won¡¯t! A growing fondness for the scholar makes her pursuit less of a chore, but a growing unease makes her keep her distance. This time you won¡¯t die by my hand. I promise. Her resolve cemented, both body and mind trudge forth, off into the eastern Wastes. ____________________ The Wasteland ¨C Ark¡¯s Beacon Alternating patches of sand and cracked earth seem to endlessly pass beneath Eidos¡¯ feet. The same barren sights persist step after infinite step. Mouth agape, wanting to drool but incapable of producing even a single drop of spittle, Eidos stares at the floor as her feet drag, kicking up meager clouds of dust and sand. But unrelenting winds sweep those clouds away and erase any footprints she may have left behind, leaving no evidence of her passage, no reminder of her existence. A break in the howling winds grants her eyes the freedom to look up and forward. The Wasteland spire grows nearer. From this vantage point, she now sees that it is but a small part of a broad, stout fortification, several hundred paces wide¡ªa microcosmic Dawn Fortress. This structure is built into the lip of a massive crater, stopping it up, and preventing traffic either in or out. When near enough, she sees evidence of recent habitation¡ªabandoned tents, bedrolls, and ashy campfire remains, to name a few. Even a small water cistern sits nearby, though it is now as empty as the facilities it services. At present, it seems the sole occupants of Ark¡¯s Beacon are solitude and fading memories. Bringing her attention to the wall whose shadow now envelops her, she notices that on either side, a stairway leads to the top of the fortress walls. Suddenly, laughter shatters the solemn silence of the Wastes, reminding Eidos she is not actually alone. She turns to find Heyar some twenty paces off, laughing again at one of his own inane jokes¡ªprobably the same one.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Leaving the scholar to his boundless fun, Eidos climbs the stairs and mounts the battlements atop the wall where her ascent is rewarded with a curious sight. From the parapet upon which she stands, a massive stone ramp descends into the crater below. She kicks a pebble down onto the ramp. A second later, it cracks against the sloped surface of the crater. The descent seems a simple task. However, given the smooth surfaces of the wall, the return ascent seems inversely proportional in its simplicity. In truth, the whole complex appears to be designed to invite invaders from the crater to mount the ramp only to then rebuff them with its formidable walls. A great yawn forces her eyes to shut as they move up and away from the ramp. When her lazy display comes to its conclusion, her gaze falls upon a rather unexpected sight¡ªgiven the forsaken state of the fort. There before her is an archer, standing proudly upon the walls she defends. Was she here the whole time? Eidos shambles forward with a silly grin. The archer greets Eidos¡¯ approach with the same warmth and affection as the Wasteland has¡ªthough at least she does not ignore Eidos entirely. Without even turning to face her visitor, her words come, cold as a midnight gale, ¡°What is it, outlander?¡± ¡°You expecting something to come up that ramp?¡± ¡°Before the week¡¯s out, you, likely as not.¡± ¡°Me?¡± ¡°But I¡¯ll put a shot through your eye when the wraithglow gets you. Your suffering will be brief; you¡¯ve my word of honor as one of Ark¡¯s Valvorthr.¡± ¡°Are we enemies or something?¡± I don¡¯t recall poisoning you this time around, so what reason do you have to hate me? ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what we are,¡± come the words icy as a desert eve. ¡°If you return here walking without Trueflesh, my arrow¡¯ll find you.¡± ¡°Sounds unpleasant, but whatever happens, happens, I guess.¡± That¡¯s remarkably¡­ wise. Given that it¡¯s born from my body¡¯s apathy, that is. ¡°Speaking to you won¡¯t help me in my mission to defend the beacon from draugs¡ªmight just make it more difficult. Leave me, outlander.¡± And after a moment¡¯s pause, she finally adds, ¡°Ark guide you to the Grays.¡± Noise. Eidos lazily turns to discover its origin. Approaching from behind is the sound of an unfiltered Heyar dictating and then performing his own eulogy, it seems. ¡°¡­For far did the wayward scholar venture into the Wastes, and much did he learn! The knowledge of what lies behind the Door of Night his final gift!¡± Seeing his travel companion, he excitedly rushes toward her. ¡°Oh! Ha ha! There you are! And you¡¯ve come to observe the Stilled San Crater without me. Me! Your dearest companion and guide!¡± Suddenly distracted by a thought, he turns to face the crater. ¡°Have you spotted any draugnir yet?! It¡¯s said a glimpse of them is a glimpse of death itself!¡± ¡°No, I was just talking to this archer here¡­¡± Eidos turns to find the wall deserted, utterly devoid of life beyond the two companions in exile. ¡°Huh,¡± she says. ¡°Must¡¯ve run away, I guess.¡± No¡­ she was definitely¡­ Oh no, I think I¡¯m hallucinating¡­ ¡°Possible,¡± the scholar offers, ¡°Though I seem to recall none other than you, my faithful companion, occupying this wall just now¡­¡± Heyar, get away from me! ¡°Weird, but not that it matters much.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­ the bizarre effects of the Wastes are well-documented in both Tambul and the Dawn Fortress¡ªthough the exact descriptions do vary. Seeing that which is not is one such an effect!¡± He leans in as though about to share some great secret. ¡°But I myself have a theory not yet proposed!¡± he whispers. ¡°I suspect that time itself is warped here! You may have been speaking to someone in the past and they to someone in the present¡ªwell, future to them. Ha ha!¡± Please, Heyar¡­ run¡­ ¡°What makes you think that?¡± ¡°Ho ho! If only you had seen the accounts of visions seen here at Ark¡¯s Beacon! Predictive visions! All things encountered here have come to pass and many draugnir attacks have thus been thwarted!¡± You need to leave! Now! ¡°Is that so.¡± ¡°It is! Hence the importance of these centuries-old fortifications! Without it, Kabu might have been overrun by draugnir raids a dozen times by now!¡± ¡°But the guards in Tambul said the raids stopped a long time ago.¡± A sudden look of shock and horror twist his features, ¡°No! By Biracul¡¯s beard, no! Do you ask a mountaineer about the ocean and a sailor about the peaks?!¡± Confused, Eidos says, ¡°Not sure what you mean, but I¡¯m starting to lose interest¡­¡± Good! Body, listen to me. We have to leave here. Now! Heyar¡¯s chipper brightness darkens as the thick clouds of disillusionment cast their shadows over his innocent curiosity. ¡°Knowledge fades when the desire to learn vanishes¡­ Knowledge dies when history is forgotten.¡± ¡°May be true¡­ but I don¡¯t much care either way.¡± Right, so let¡¯s get away from Heyar, body. Please! The scholar flinches at the remark as though pierced by a lethal strike from a phantom arrow. But suddenly his crestfallen eyes brighten, as though parting clouds now reveal a ray of light for the first time in years. ¡°If that¡¯s so, and you don¡¯t care either way, then you should at least be willing to listen, no?¡± ¡°I suppose so, as long as it doesn¡¯t involve too much effort.¡± ¡°Splendid! I¡¯ll take it!¡± The scholar begins to rub his hands in anticipation. ¡°Oh, where to begin? Where to begin?! Ah yes!¡± He clears his throat before asking, ¡°Do you know why this place is named ¡®Ark¡¯s Beacon¡¯?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Have you heard of the archmage of legend? The bane of the Jinnwraith? The inimitable Ark of Dazil?!¡± he asks excitedly. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of Ark¡ªseems people worship her.¡± ¡°Yes! But who worships her?¡± ¡°Mostly Tacribians, I guess¡ªdon¡¯t remember the Tambulans saying much about Ark¡­¡± ¡°And that is exactly the point! Ark is of Dazil! Which is an antiquated name for my homeland! For Dazir!¡± ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you see the irony?!¡± ¡°No, but this is starting to seem like more effort than¡­¡± ¡°Ah, no, no, no! Allow me to explain then, to alleviate your taxed mind!¡± He begins to pace and waving his finger about he lectures, ¡°It is well-known that Tacribians hate Dazirans. It is also well-known that Tacribians deify Ark. Does this not strike you as odd? It should! But the explanation is simple! History is an ill-studied discipline in Kabu¡ªsave by a few scholars such as yours truly¡ªand thus few realize Ark¡¯s birthplace was in fact Dazir!¡± Eidos stares blankly at him. Body, I¡¯m warning you. Move now. Heyar continues, ¡°That is precisely why history is so important! Because¡­¡± MOVE NOW! And, as though propelled by a violent gust of wind, Eidos¡¯ body topples over the walls and down into the crater, leaving an incredulous Heyar alone atop the walls. The landing is no less violent than the fall. Her left arm impacts upon the hard stone. Several terrible snaps signal fracturing bones throughout. Eidos moans, the pain impossible even for her apathy to ignore. Why didn¡¯t Luin appear? To shield me? What did Khlutt do to Luin? What did he do to me? ¡°Are you all right?¡± calls down the concerned scholar. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Oh! Ha ha! Of course!¡± He hesitates. ¡°Perhaps I can find a rope, wait there!¡± The scholar rushes away to scour the fort for a means of retrieving her, but returns empty handed. By all appearances, a fall crater-side is considered a death sentence to the defenders of the fort. ¡°I¡¯ve found nothing, dearest companion!¡± He thinks for a moment. ¡°But as I will soon be consumed by the wraithglow regardless, allow me to accompany you into the crater. Perhaps we¡¯ll see what the inside of a draugnir¡¯s mouth looks like! Ho ho!¡± Heyar begins to climb over the wall. No! ¡°No, wait!¡± Eidos says, startling even herself with the emotions she now feels. Heyar pauses. Go to the canyon, past the Obsidian Ruin. ¡°The canyon, past the Obsidian Ruin¡­ You should go there.¡± His expression turns serious, ¡°And abandon my faithful companion? Never!¡± Death doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ll just be reborn¡­ well, you will too, but I don¡¯t want to be the one to kill you! ¡°Look¡­ we¡¯re both gonna die out here, but you don¡¯t have to die right now. Go learn. I may not care, but you do,¡± she speaks the words neither knowing nor understanding whence they come. ¡°Don¡¯t waste your last precious breaths here!¡± A moment¡¯s hesitation soon births an understanding, a new awareness, and Heyar speaks, moved by the impassioned plea from an otherwise dispassionate Eidos, ¡°You may be right¡­ this will be my last chance to learn¡­¡± Then looking down at her, ¡°And you¡­ you¡¯ll be fine? Fine alone in death? Well, as fine as one could be, given the circumstances¡­¡± ¡°I was born alone and now I die alone. All is as it should be.¡± Yes. All is as it should be. A spark of recognition reignites the fire in his eyes and Heyar readopts the smile of a bumbling scholar. ¡°onhagefuokuzhua! All is as it should be!¡± He turns to leave before finally adding, ¡°Remember brave companion, fear is there to protect you, pain to warn you, but no matter what may befall you, the Falseflesh is not you and its emotions not yours! Take care and die well!¡± She smiles weakly, still under the influence of agony. You too, Heyar. See you next life. The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Impartial — A Lost City A Lost City _____________________________ The Wasteland ¨C The Stilled Sand Crater Descending the incline, the floor grays and then blackens, finally losing all color. And before she knows it, Eidos walks upon an inverse mirror. No light reflects from this crater¡¯s sandy surface, nor do any shapes define themselves within it. A complete absence is all she sees. A bottomless pit. Yet, her continual stumbles and falls into the dark dust covering the floor reveal the hidden physicality to it¡ªthough visually and viscerally it remains hard to accept. This is¡­ nauseating. Gripping a loose collection of powder, she lifts it for closer scrutiny. The shards rake at her closed fist, yet draw no blood from the wounds they open. Unfurling her fingers, she stares at what appears to be a hole in the center of her palm. Violently flipping her hand over to regard the back, she sees the skin is pale, but otherwise undisturbed. Turning the hand once more, her gaze falls back on the palm. The dark powder is gone, dropped from her previous convulsion, and the illusion is dispelled; the hole is gone, and only the unbroken pallor of her skin remains. Last time I died¡­ She looks north, gaze settling upon a forest of pillars as white as the floor here is black. ¡­was up there¡­ She looks down at the invisible powder she stands upon. ¡­blood as dark as this stuff¡­ Then regarding her pearlescent skin, ¡­skin as white as this¡­ An awareness begins to dawn. Like Shen. She goes for the dark powder again, this time scooping up a handful. There is a surprising continuity between the powder in her hand and the powder on the ground. Even knowing the trick, her eyes still see a hole piercing her flesh. What is this stuff? And what¡¯s it doing to my body? Eidos wiggles her fingers, letting the grains shift in her hand, and ultimately pouring the powder back to the ground. The illusory hole in her hand disappears, pale skin rapidly replacing it. As the last grain falls, Eidos dusts her hands off, but a fine powder yet clings to the wan skin, staining it with grayish trails. Sudden movement steals her attention from the dark dust. Ambling off in the distance and gradually slipping into view are thousands of humanoid figures. Slow in their approach, their features are nearly impossible to distinguish other than as swaying shadows dirtied by smears of white flesh. They roil and pulse like pustules bursting forth from the crater¡¯s black skin. The shapes close the distance with increasing speed, ever-gaining in proximity to Eidos. I¡¯d say run, but who cares at this point? She does not react. She just stands there motionless, simply resigned to whatever will be. onhagefuokuzhua, after all. She allows the procession of unholy abominations to march toward her, and soon, splinters of tooth and bone gnash all around her, as the rotting draugnir drool their sooty fluids. Now close enough to touch, the creatures circle around her like albino buzzards, eyeing a fresh corpse. Accept the end without fear, body. They stagger their circles, giving the impression of a rotating spiral, with Eidos as the unmoving center. Their furor increases, dancing to some perverse, inaudible beat. Yet, despite their frenzied orbits, the draugnir somehow seem utterly indifferent to Eidos. That¡¯s it? And she herself senses no connection to these beings whatsoever. Indeed, her mind feels more isolated than ever, even in spite of their apparent desire to mirror her thoughts. If you¡¯re not going to devour my Trueflesh or whatever, then I¡¯d might as well leave. Shrugging her shoulders, she walks away. However, the band of draugnir move in synchronous with her, perfect reflections of her every step, her every pause. She stops. Are they following me? Her pale companions halt in unison. What? Am I supposed to command you or something? They eagerly await. Then leave me alone. And just as quickly as it appeared, the draugnir horde then disperses, returning to whatever corrupt pockets whence they emerged. They were waiting for my command then¡­ why? Biracul¡¯s balls! It doesn¡¯t matter; they¡¯re gone now. Go where you will, body. I get why those creatures would want to follow; it¡¯s easier than deciding for yourself. Eidos remains fixed in place, a marble statue emerging from the void. Fine. Move, body. Go east. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Reluctantly overcoming her emotional inertia, feet drag Eidos eastward, to the far edge of the crater. Hours pass in the span of a thought and days in space of a breath. Incessant, albeit lumbering, motion brings her to a steep incline leading to the edge of the map, as far as she can tell. Climb. The grueling ascent ends as Eidos reaches the charred lip of the crater. While reining in her chaotic breath, she surveys the surroundings. Toward the northwest, ivory pillars of salt point skyward slicing regular white bars into the cloudless gray beyond, giving the impression of a celestial prison. This forest of pillars melts away as it continues its expansion eastward toward her current location, ending suddenly at a precipitous decline just north of her¡ªneither too high to seem daunting, nor too low to be accessible. Here, the sun¡¯s burning heat and the Wasteland shadows¡¯ chilling cold are noticeably absent. All color has been replaced with a monochromatic veneer, blurring the lines and shadows that would otherwise define the boundaries between objects. It¡¯s like things here are trying to be forgotten¡­ Some fifty paces east is a drop of indeterminable height; the bottom remains shrouded by a thick blanket of colorless mist. It is here, at the brink of this precipice to non-being, that Eidos feels she stands in a place that is no place at all. In a place that denies existence. A narrow strip that sits between form and nothingness. Yet, somehow her sense of thought and perception seems heightened here. Scanning across the horizon toward the east, beyond the sea of colorless mist, she sees only the desolate flatlands spanning off into infinity. And at last, facing south, her perception penetrates the murky gray haze and for once sees clearly the ruined towers of a walled city. The city¡¯s spires, though broken, all stretch further skyward than even Tambul¡¯s great Moon Tower. This place is huge. How could I not see this? It should even be visible from the Dawn Fortress, given how damn big it is. Suddenly, a very special tower soon draws her attention. Red as blood and remarkably intact, Eidos regards the tower, vaguely aware that something within returns her gaze. Well, it¡¯s either stand here and do nothing or go there. She simply stands there staring vacantly at the city, and occasionally wiping the drool from her jowls. Just move, will you? Feet kick the drab mixture of gray sands, carving lines to mark her passage. The wind, however, dutifully erases the tracks and any evidence of her passage. ______________________ Ur¡¯Ruk ¨C The Gates of Awakening The burning sands, the arid air, the setting sun¡­ Eidos stops for a moment and begins to stare directly at that radiant mass off in the distant sky, unable to pull her eyes away from it, trying to extract every drop of truth from it¡ªor perhaps simply taking a rest after the hours of constant trudging. You¡¯re staring at the sun, body? But¡­ huh¡­ it¡¯s doesn¡¯t hurt¡ªor at least I can¡¯t feel it. And I can still see, it seems. But her lazy scrutiny is all to no avail. The external world makes almost as little sense to her as the mysteries of her origins, or even the uncertainties of her inner workings. She feels her mind at conflict. A battlefield for any number of bizarre and inexplicable whims and wills. She feels helpless¡ªas well she should. A sudden urge to sit wells up within her, then morphs into the urge to sleep, and then into the urge to advance. Cyclically. Eternally. Locked in a mutual gravitation of desire, pulling in different directions, tugging at her Trueflesh. Time begins to slow. Stop. Reverse. Spin. Faster. And in an instant, Time flattens so that it is entirely visible from Eidos¡¯ vantage point, as though a sphere looking upon its flat reflection in a mirror. She sees Time begin and end at the Red Tower beyond those ghostly walls before her, the endless spiral of existence, racing away from its origin by racing toward it. Enough! Move! Thus dispelling the vision, she renews her steps toward the gates of the city, not but a hundred paces hence. Eidos is soon enveloped by the shadow of cyclopean walls. These walls stand in stark contrast to the broken buildings they protect, for they are in pristine condition. No gaps, nor joints divide the surface, giving the impression that the walls were pulled up from the very ground they now stand upon, pinched into position by some godly hand. The surface is enmeshed throughout by twisting bands of shimmering metal, the outlined scales of a gargantuan beast, girding an inner skin of stone. The walls, however, are in alliance with a rather unlikely bedfellow. The sole opening in them is guarded by a makeshift gate that seals the entry portal to the city. The gate is as dissimilar to the walls as a Sentry is to a Warbeast. Like a burlap patch on a silk dress. At Eidos¡¯ appearance, the silhouette of a person appears briefly. It turns around and whistles toward some unseen compatriot below, only to then melt back into the shadows. But before long, the gate begins to crack open, allowing barely enough space for a single person to slip through. Forward, body. And forward she goes. ____________________ Ur¡¯Ruk ¨C The Hall of Vanargand The makeshift gate closing behind her, Eidos now finds herself in a space that dwarfs its entrance by comparison. A domed ceiling arcs overhead, its fading blue color giving the impression of a fabricated sky, complete with clouds and birds in flight. Dully shining crystalline sconces adorn the walls, and work hard to chase away the shadows. This place looks a little like the Sanctuary or the Wellspring. Some stubborn darkness yet remains, however, and countless statues now stare at her from their shadowy alcoves. Irreparably scarred from their war with time, all of the carvings are now faceless and most seem little more than amorphous stone pillars. A number of sharp edges hint at the angular and idealized forms they were born with, but whatever artistry or feeling they may have once been imbued with has long since been devoured by the city¡¯s ruin. But where are the people that run this place? Nearly invisible at first, she soon detects the first signs of life, for standing along the edges of the hall, in imitation of the statues behind them, is a cadre of men. Their crudely cobbled cudgels impart the sense that they are guardians, though their bearing belies their inexperience. Likewise mirroring the stones they seek to mimic is the deathly pallor of their skin¡ªa pallor with which she is now most personally acquainted. So what, a society of draugnir? A granite table stands as the centerpiece of the hall¡ªthough it appears to be entirely ceremonial, as there are none sitting at it save a stately lady scowling down at Eidos from on high. At her side, a lone attendant kneels. I hope these idiots don¡¯t try to follow me like the ones in the crater¡­ The leader beckons Eidos, firmly and matronly, without bothering to rise from her chair. ¡°You will hold your tongue and speak only when given permission, outsider,¡± proclaims a voice, raspy as a blade on a leather sharpening strap. ¡°Come forth.¡± Biracul¡¯s balls. Another self-infatuated leader in Kabu? Must be something in the water¡­ Eidos approaches. A raised palm from the leader signals her to stop, and she immediately complies. ¡°Of all the peoples of Kabu,¡± the leader continues, ¡°we alone aren¡¯t enslaved by either will or thought. If you stay, you will assimilate. Or you will depart immediately and be one with Wasteland. Which do you choose?¡± These people seem rather¡­ extreme. ¡°Doesn¡¯t much matter to me.¡± As expected from this Eidos... The stern lady hesitates, narrowing her eyes. ¡°You are without an apparent will it seems. Perhaps it¡¯s because you are one who wishes no harm¡­¡± her tone grows darker, ¡°Or perhaps it''s because your mind is a Famlazian nest of betrayal and lies¡­¡± ¡°Nope, just genuinely don¡¯t care either way.¡± Don¡¯t think this lady will take kindly to that kind of candor. The leader attempts to pierce Eidos with her gaze, to see the intent behind the words. Suddenly, she casts her eyes skyward and speaks, ¡°Aizos! Hazanna, your servant, is whole and unified with the Form! So too must the one before me become if she wishes to remain! As it pleases you, our Mother, the Mother of all Form!¡± Then returning her gaze to Eidos, ¡°Now answer. Will you be counted as a sister among us?¡± ¡°Okay.¡± You just always want someone to tell you what to do, don¡¯t you body? Hazanna¡¯s scowl turns to a triumphant smirk. ¡°Mother Aizos accepts your submission, sister!¡± Then rising, she signals one of the guardians to approach, and after a brief conference, the wan warrior clumsily traipses out through an exit behind Hazanna¡¯s table. ¡°Know that you have not merely saved your own life, but many,¡± Eidos¡¯ new leader says. ¡°We only harbor those who would work for the survival and care of all lives, not merely their own. Ours is a higher calling, a mission to feed the Form that lives in all of us! ¡°Your contribution to the well-being of your brothers and sisters begins now! Report to the Greenhouse, with haste.¡± Sounds like you¡¯re in for a lot of work, body. Eidos lazily moves to leave. ¡°However, I warn you that your acceptance is a serious oath,¡± Hazanna adds, the fire of zeal crackling in her voice. ¡°We do not tolerate apostates who would rather dwell in the House of Dust than make a table for the children of Aizos. Abandon the family by leaving Ur¡¯Ruk, and it will abandon you!¡± Hazanna then points toward the exit the guard had passed through and adds, ¡°Now go!¡± Shock at the intensity of Hazanna¡¯s tone spurs Eidos to move quickly toward the exit, all eyes in the room silently tracing her progress towards it. This place is going to be messed up, isn¡¯t it? The Book of Eidos: The Path of the Impartial — A Man Unseen A Man Unseen ____________________ Ur¡¯Ruk ¨C The Emerald Font Eidos steps into the decaying shell of a once proud structure. Gray light from the cloudless Wasteland sky filters through gaping holes in the scant remains of a high-vaulted ceiling. These meager rays illuminate motes of dust as they float through the air at glacial speeds. It looks as though this place may once have mirrored the Hall of Vanargand, as it is similarly festooned with alcoves for statues. However, the statues within are completely unrecognizable, having been rendered into nothing but misshapen stumps of rock. What is that, I wonder? Prominent among the drab surroundings, a shimmering, emerald-green fountain stretches several stories high. Its sheen suggests a metallic construction, but its resilience and lack of corrosion defy this conclusion. Rather, it looks to be cut from dimly luminescent jade and sculpted into the shape of some leafy, unfolding plant, caught between the worlds of nature and artifice. A small stream of coppery water trickles from its blossoms, staining the fountain¡¯s surface. Her eyes follow this sullied flow down to a wide yet shallow pool where its journey ends. To her surprise, this visual excursion likewise brings her to the elderly man sitting at the fountain¡¯s edge, not too distant from the coppery flow. In this room of fossilized inanimation, he seems almost an intruder, soon to be swept aside by the tide of oblivion¡ªor if not, then assimilated into it. Just a hunch, but I imagine my body is going to go towards the old man¡­ As Eidos approaches the elderly man, he continues to stare off absently into space; yet he is clearly aware of her, as he bends his ear in her direction. ¡­so that it can sit down and rest. She plops down on the fountain¡¯s cold, stone rim, eager to relax. ¡°Who¡¯s there, then? Speak up!¡± never facing her, the old man makes his demands. He has clearly been robbed of the light¡ªand for quite some time at that, given the naturalness with which he has replaced sight with sound. ¡°No plans to speak, foreigner? Just here to stare, are you?¡± ¡°You¡¯re blind, aren¡¯t you?¡± she bluntly offers. ¡°How¡¯d you know I was a foreigner?¡± He chuckles weakly. ¡°Who but a foreigner would sit next to the pariah among pariah? People here don¡¯t speak to me, let alone get close to me.¡± She scoots away ever so slightly, ¡°You don¡¯t have some gross disease or something, do you?¡± His chuckle now hearty, he replies, ¡°Ho! No, not at all, dear! Blindness isn¡¯t contagious.¡± A slight pause allows him to finish his fit of mirth. ¡°My name is Radan, of Dazir. What brings you to Ur¡¯Ruk, young lady?¡± ¡°It¡¯s where I happened to end up.¡± Not entirely, but pretty much. ¡°By happenstance, you say?¡± He muses momentarily. ¡°Might just be fate¡ªour chance encounter here, that is.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± she says, attention starting to drift. ¡°Such is my hope. You see, I wish to be heard but none will listen. And thus, my tale remains untold¡ªand I fear it will be consigned to oblivion along with its protagonist.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t say,¡± Eidos offers, starting to close her eyes. Oh no you don¡¯t! Feeling the illusory weight of an open palm slapping her across the face, Eidos¡¯ eyes spring open. Huh¡­ wonder if I can have other physical effects on my body¡­ ¡°This is much to ask,¡± he continues, unaware of Eidos¡¯ internal conflict, ¡°but would you hear my story so that, when I die, I can live on in your memory?¡± Go for it, old man. ¡°I guess,¡± she says. Overwhelmed with the prospect of finally being heard, his silent tears mirror the copper flow behind him. ¡°Thank you. None wish to be forgotten¡ªnot even us sinners.¡± ¡°Uh huh.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll keep it as short as thoroughness permits¡­¡± That means it¡¯ll be long¡­ ¡°Then you¡¯ll be long-winded, I guess.¡± Dammit. Will have to turn that thought-to-action effect off. Somewhat taken aback by the comment, he meekly offers, ¡°Well, I¡¯ll try to avoid wasting too much of your time, foreigner.¡± ¡°No worries. I¡¯ve got nowhere else to go.¡± ¡°Thank you. Then I shall begin.¡± He clears his throat. ¡°I am Radan, of Dazir, keeper of the flames of Biracul and Ark, may they eternally guide our way. ¡°I, opponent to the usurpers Khaa and Pakahron, supporter of the Archmage Kambesh, swear to you that what I¡¯m about to reveal is truth¡ªnot absolute, but rather truth with the clarity that only time and blindness can afford.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°Branded Unseen and expelled from our birthplace, we braved the journey through the Salt Forest with the aid of our Tacribian allies. The scant few who survived crawled their way here to Ur¡¯Ruk. ¡°Here we sought to establish a microcosm of the Biraculian system used since times immemorial and to establish a civilized society as best we could. ¡°But none of this could¡¯ve been accomplished without the aid of the man who¡¯d turn out to be not only our greatest benefactor, but also our fiercest malefactor: Ormenos of Jer.¡± No, can¡¯t be the same Ormenos as the one I abosorbed¡­ right? He continues unabated, ¡°When we arrived, he had already taken residence in the Red Tower¡ªa vile den, one I alone saw the inside of and live to tell. ¡°Ormenos had become obsessed with immortality and had been experimenting on draugnir prior to our arrival¡ªthough, only Biracul knows how he managed to secure so many ¡®fresh¡¯ ones to perform his questionable experiments on.¡± He hesitates, and licking his lips, he says, ¡°Now, I should mention that he took me on as an apprentice when he realized I had an inquisitive mind and a skillful hand. ¡°By then, he had helped establish order, given us a purpose, and a system for survival. So my presence wouldn''t be missed for several hours a day while I helped in his workshop. ¡°Oh, the wonders he showed me! Myriad tomes transcribed by the ghostly quills he had floating and bobbing through use of some obscure Techne¡­ And the thousandfold secrets each tome held between its leathery covers!¡± Radan sighs. ¡°What blissful days those were. ¡°But all festivals end. ¡°Two years elapsed, and soon Ormenos stopped appearing among us. I alone bore witness to his hideous transformation into a draug¡ªphysically, that is¡ªfor by some miracle he had maintained his own will. He was convinced that he had reached the limits of his experiments with draugnir and had grown dissatisfied, seeking to explore options he had to that point ignored. ¡°He decided to continue his experiments using humans instead.¡± Okay, so draugnir are somehow worth less than humans, I guess? People do seem to hate them, but they didn¡¯t do anything to me¡­ Radan takes a deep breath. ¡°He took the first of his subjects in the deep of the night¡ªa beautiful young girl named Arkana. ¡°We awoke that morning to find her bed empty, no trace of a struggle¡ªin fact the bed was neatly made, even. Of course, we all wondered what could¡¯ve happened to her and immediately set out to scour the ruins. But by sunset all we knew was that she¡¯d utterly vanished. ¡°The following afternoon, after completing my duties in the greenhouse, I went to Ormenos¡¯ workshop as usual. But it had a new addition: a porcelain-skinned cadaver with the face¡¯s skin carefully peeled open. ¡°The only thing I could tell for certain was that it wasn¡¯t a draugnir¡ªbecause of the rust-colored stains. Arkana was the first, but not the last.¡± Well that¡¯s grim. So the guy whose power I use to hide my mind is a child murderer? I guess he¡¯s in good company with Luin, the ¡®child¡¯ murderer¡­ ¡°Then another tell-tale sign revealed itself when the new corpses began to rot. In the two years prior, I¡¯d never seen a draugnir corpse rot. ¡°So, Ormenos asked me to dispose of them in the cess pit¡ªthe one over on there, on the other side of this very fountain. And I obliged. I did so because emotion blinded me to reason. ¡°This happened on several occasions and terror gripped my siblings in exile. They could only wonder who¡¯d be spirited away next. ¡°Then, at the peak of our anxiety, we turned on each other. Blaming one another for the disappearances. Casting doubt where none belonged. We stopped performing our duties as tensions grew. Started sleeping in smaller groups with people keeping watch in shifts. I even stopped going to Ormenos¡¯ tower. ¡°This waking nightmare continued until one day, two magi and a garrison of armor-clad Neverborn arrived. By then, we would¡¯ve even welcomed Rubied Jinn himself through the gates if he would stop the madness. ¡°Yet neither the magi nor the Neverborn seemed to notice our existence at all. We desperately tried to communicate with them, but they had no ears to hear us, no eyes to see us. We were invisible, unseen. ¡°I remember it quite clearly; they were both stately figures¡ªone of them reminiscent of Biracul himself, even.¡± Probably was Biracul. ¡°Whatever they were, though, they were clearly not human. Our transformation as Unseen was absolute ; we were invisible to their Truesight. ¡°One other oddity was how they navigated the city as though it were their home. They headed straight for the tower, remaining inside for quite some time. ¡°Upon exiting, one of the magi held in his hand a spherical, blue crystal. The other held a crystal greener than this fountain behind me. They sealed the door with some ancient Techne and we never heard from Ormenos again.¡± That confirms it, I guess. So, Ormenos and likely Luin as well. What was Luin doing here anyway? Had Ormenos stolen it? If they couldn¡¯t see the Unseen, then how did they find Ormenos? Ugh, this makes my head hurt. Eidos rubs her temples, ¡°So no more Ormenos, huh?¡± ¡°No more Ormenos. No more disappearing brothers and sisters. The connection was obvious in hindsight, but now even the truth-blind could see it. ¡°The fog of fear cleared and the healing process began. Being the only person to have seen the inside of the tower, I shared what I¡¯d seen with the others. ¡°Infuriated, they blinded me, condemning me to relive those sights in my darkness, to atone for the victims who could¡¯ve been saved had I spoken up. ¡°I don''t know why I never said anything¡­ No, I think I know exactly why. I just couldn¡¯t believe a man that in love with knowledge could be evil. ¡°But since that day, none here have had ears nor eyes for old Radan. I¡¯m just an Unseen, even among the Unseen. ¡°I just sit here near the cess pit, waiting for the day I¡¯ve the courage to cast myself in as I did with so many of my friends.¡± Radan pauses briefly, as though finally accepting his part in the tragedy. ¡°Well, this is my story. Please remember it, child.¡± ¡°Not the most bored I¡¯ve ever been,¡± she says between yawns. ¡°Thank you¡­ Biracul guide you, stranger.¡± She won¡¯t remember you, but I will. For what it¡¯s worth. He stands, a bittersweet smile expressing his gratitude. With the aid of a walking staff to trace the edge of the fountain, he hobbles to the other side. A grating sound of metal dragging on stone ends in the ringing clatter of metal falling on stone. Then wood¡¯s high pitch squeal joins the choir as it too falls on the stone and metal. And the muffled ruffling of clothes precedes the silence that ends the impromptu piece. Eidos closes her eyes, weary from the constant traveling. All right, you can rest. Just for a bit, though. She yawns, preparing for a wink of dreamless sleep.