Chapter 62

Secrets Beholden to the Deaf

Sylas and Derrek sat at the far edge of the encampment, between them a roaring campfire surrounded by emptied glasses of ale and mead and wine that were leftover from the camp’s natives. The two stared at each other in silence for a moment before Derrek took a deep breath and decided to plunge into the conversation. Though many uncertainties still plagued his mind, his instincts were telling him that he could at least see where the story with the fake messiah could go.

“From our studies,” he started. “We’ve discovered that there are six types of basic Shards—Shard of Ascindium is, roughly translated, ‘Shard of Dimensions’. To be completely blunt and basic, all Shards are effectively talismans—but massively stronger versions of them. Their roots extend back to before the founding of the Kingdom, and nobody is quite certain just how old they are. What we’ve learned, however, is that most didn’t have enough charge to even be used—and, since we lacked the fundamental knowledge regarding their make, we are unable to actually use them unless they already have a charge pending.

“Shard of Ascindium does contain subspace, but it varies from individual Shards. My Order is In possession of six Shards, all of whom have varying sizes. The only reason why we’re even aware of the nature of the Ascindium Shard is due to an accident. During the unearthing of one of the Shards, we didn’t realize it had a charge left—one of the Knights excitedly pointed it at one of the Elders and… khm, the Elder got trapped inside,” Shit, so that’s what that was?!! Derrek coughed awkwardly for a moment before continuing. “We must have spent years trying to decode the means to unlock it. But, really, it’s quite simple—just using the most basic form of energy in a rudimentary pattern does the job. Even a child can do it.” Yup, yup…

“As for if Dyn could use it to create an explosion… possibly,” Derrek said. “Though we never tested it, it is theoretically possible to overload the Shard—especially if it has an innate charge—and cause it to implode. Depending on the size of the internal subspace, the explosion would be the inversion of it. As for the treasures, I honestly have no idea how that rumor even got started. Somebody from the Order did sell the information on the Shard to the outsiders, but nowhere did we even entertain the idea that the Shards were treasure boxes. There,” Derrek finished off, taking a sip of water. “I’ve told you everything I know—no, everything my Order knows about the Ascindium Shard. Now it’s your turn. How did you kill Dyn?”

"…" Sylas contemplated for a moment on whether to lie or not but decided to gamble with the truth first. The save point was now remarkably close, after all, so it was worth the experimentation. "It's my sword mantra," he replied. "Called Heartseeker."

“Heart…seeker? You… you know Heartseeker?!” Derrek asked, his face growing pale. “No… no wonder. You’re one of them. The Children,” Ah, yes, keep speaking in vague horseshit. Goddammit with these people and their implications… “My apologies. Had I known, I would have never behaved the way I did. Both my Order and the Kingdom owe your Way a massive debt.”

“…” Sylas was stunned. He desperately wanted to ask who the hell ‘the Children’ were, yet knew that he couldn’t. At least not in this loop. For now, he knew he had to abuse the fact that Derrek suddenly seemed to even be awed by him and would likely spill out an extra secret or two. “So, I assume you are for us uniting against the Cult.”

“Of course,” Derrek nodded. “I thought… my apologies, I thought that the Way was extinct. I never suspected you were simply not meddling. The Condemned must be beyond saving if even you are stepping out of the shadows.”

“Yes,” Sylas nodded. “But it’s not the Condemned that I truly care about. It’s their calling.”

“Their calling?” Derrek quizzed.

“You must be aware of the Well of Souls,” at the mention of the term, Derrek’s eyebrows twitched for a moment. “But, just like with most of the Kingdom, you are likely blind to what it means.”

“… what does it mean, then?” Derrek asked.

“It means that the Cult is trying to usurp the Well and usher the army residing within it toward the Kingdom,” Sylas said. “For what purpose… I cannot say.”

“Usurp the Well? Impossible,” Derrek said firmly. “Well has been a rumor for this Kingdom’s entire lifetime. Even if it exists, it is likely exaggerated.”

“I’ve seen it.”

“… you’ve what?”

“Not just me,” Sylas said. “Valen saw it as well.”

“Where?”

“North of the wall,” Sylas said. “That was why the changes in the castle happened. It wasn’t because of Dyn or the group of bandits. It was because of what we saw up there.”

“… what did you see?” Derrek swallowed a mouthful and asked.

“We saw the sky tear open,” Sylas said. “As it began to rain corpses. And then…”

“… and then?”

“And then I saw a figure,” he added, his voice low and dreadful. “On a harness of chains, being lowered from the hole in the sky. And… it spoke to me.”

“…” by now, Derrek was visibly trembling.

"It swore vengeance upon the living," Sylas said. "And swore that the Van'ashi name will be heard by the world of the living once more."

“…”

“From how pale you’ve turned,” Sylas said. “You seem to have something to share.”

“… I… no, are…” Derrek stuttered. “Are… are you certain?”

“If you don’t trust me, we can go and ask the Prince,” Sylas said.

“The records… my Order has saved some records from the time before Ethernia,” Derrek said. “Most were confiscated by the Royal Creed, supposedly burned, but the founders of the Order had some foresight to hide away a few. One of those documents was clearly an official report of sorts—it spoke about some man who was sent to the northern edges of the Empire, titled a ‘Guardian’. The report stated that the Well was unstable, as though something was riling it. The report went on to recommend to whomever it was addressed that they ‘afford the man his Gift so that he may defend the borders’.

“Another document went into a bit more detail regarding the Well—that it was made from the countless dead converging, creating an inverse form of the very energy we use for magic. Through the raw output of such energy, a Well was formed—a gateway between our world and theirs. And… and that the army of the dead… it would be ushered by the Gatekeeper, whose living flesh was being held together by chains made of cosmic bones. And shall he descend… the world would be plunged in the eternal darkness, the world of the living consumed by the world of the dead.”

"…" sour silence fell between the two as both realized the weight of what they had discussed. A good chunk of Sylas' suspicions was confirmed—and twice as many troubling ideas were shoved into his brain. By now, he was 100% certain he, originally, shouldn't have had anything to do with the Well or the Gatekeeper or any of this. His inclination was that he was likely supposed to depart from the castle before the winter ever set in. However, seeking his own agency, he elected to pursue things that he wasn't asked to… and was now put in a position where he seemed to hold all the cards. "Not a word of this. To anyone. Understand?"

“But—”

"While the Well is opened," Sylas said. "We are still safe—that much I can guarantee. We are stuck in the castle for the winter anyway, and there is no point in causing panic. How many people in the Order can you trust?"

“I trust all my brothers—”

“Trust with every fiber of your soul,” Sylas emphasized.

“… two. Perhaps three,” Derrek replied.

“Once the winter ends,” Sylas said. “We will immediately depart—those documents that you mentioned, the ones that the Royal Family supposedly burned, we need to find them.”

“… shouldn’t we instead inform the King? If we explain the situation, I’ve no doubt—”

"No," Sylas interrupted swiftly. "I am absolutely certain that the initial opening of the Well, the thing that was 'riling it up' as described in the documents you read, is connected to the Royal Family and the origins of Ethernia. As such, every King should have been completely aware as to why the Ghouls continued to invade the northern borders… and yet they did nothing all the while, just sending men to guard them. There is a reason for that—either they don't know how to prevent it, or are unwilling. And while I am happy to ascertain that they simply don't know, I can't exclude the chance that they are unwilling. And, from the sound of your Heart, you seem to agree."

“… it’s just as they say,” Derrek chuckled bitterly. “The Children can read your thoughts without even looking into your eyes. Yes. I have had my suspicions—the same people I trust in the Order share them. They were specially strengthened with the Prince's supposed assassination, and all but confirmed once I saw that the Prince was healthy. There is something going on with the Royal Family—but I don’t know what. Still, winter is a long time to wait and do nothing.”

“Do nothing? We’ll train,” Sylas said. “One way or another, I suspect there will be a massive war for all of humanity sometime in the future. I want us to create the strongest Legion, the one that will vanguard the horde of the dead and act as the beacon of light and hope for the entire world. And we start with this winter—we'll pick up the most trustworthy men, and brainwash the living shit out of them until they are beyond loyal to the Prince. And we'll herald the Prince as the Savior, and—khm, anyway, that's stuff for the future."

“Riiiight, for the future,” Derrek said, pulling back and sighing. “Who would have thought… I’d learn so much from you of all people. It truly is as they say: nary judge a man by the holes in his cloth. Judge him by the holes in his words.”

“… just what the hell does that even mean?”

“I honestly don’t know…”

“Sigh…”