Chapter 131

Buried in the Sands of Time

Sylas fell out of it for but a moment before coming to. Agnes, however, continued to stare, her jaw slacked, forcing Sylas to grab her by the arm and pull her away and behind one of the jagged spires protruding from the mountain’s summit, hiding behind the cover. Though she yelped in shock for a brief breath, she came to immediately after, realizing the weight of what they had just discovered.

“Did you see anyone?” Sylas asked.

“N-no, you?” she stuttered a reply.

“No,” he said, taking a deep breath and another peek. “Just... trees and ruins.”

“And the lake.”

“Yes, the lake.”

“What the hell is that place?” she asked.

“Oh, I don’t know, resting hall of Legolas the Elf?”

“What?” she looked at him strangely.

“Nothing, I don’t know,” Sylas chuckled to himself for a moment. “Whatever it is... well, I’m pretty sure only Gods know of this place.”

“Should... should we go check it out?” curiosity was evident in her eyes and even Sylas was beyond tempted to just throw caution to the wind and rush down. However, he could still contain himself.

“No,” he replied. “We’ll wait for a couple of days and see if there’s any movement in the meantime. If it is as dead as it appears, we’ll hike down to take a closer look at it.”

“...” Agnes fell silent and hung her head to the side, looking down at the lake once more, her eyes shining.

Sylas leaned back and took out the last gourd of wine, taking a few sips. He’d expected many things, but an actual settlement--or at least its remnant--was far down on the list. At best, he expected to find some traces of people either at the top of the mountain or on the way to the summit. However, having climbed it, he already knew that whoever was digging the dead toward the castle did not exist anywhere west.

Not only was the terrain insane, but no human--magic-doused or otherwise--could also actually survive longer than a day. Even he, who could effectively take a sword to his gut and break out into a dance with that very sword as his partner felt the climb. If the winds were any harsher, or the temperatures any lower, even he would have died before completing the climb.

That notwithstanding, a discovery like this... was monumental. At the very least he thought so. Then again, for all he knew, most if not all of the proper ‘players’ were already aware of this place and had left it standing deserted for a good reason. Still, he decided to err on the side of optimism, even if it was an ill fit.

The day--an actual one, with the sunlight basking them--slowly began to pass. Even though the sun’s warmth still couldn’t dull the frigid temperatures, they were dancing around a zero rather than the tens and dozens below it further down the mountain. Even when the night fell, it only got mildly colder rather than unlivable. Still, both of them sat tucked inside three blankets, side by side, as it became sort of an instinctual ritual.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “Maybe it’s like the lost city of some ancient civilization? Maybe one even older than the Empire?”

“Maybe,” Sylas said. “Maybe, just maybe, it’s even the home of the little fae, or maybe wisps, or maybe spirits--”

“Oh, shut it,” she elbowed him gently. “Why do you have to always cut down the fantasy?”

“I just don’t want you to be crying once it turns out to be something mundane.”

“You think it has a chance of being mundane?” she scoffed. “Whatever it is, it exists surrounded by the unlivable and unconquerable. It’s old, Sylas. It must be. Maybe even older than these mountains.”

“... okay, yeah, it’s not just your naivety that reminds me of a child,” he said. “It’s also your imagination.”

“Oh, shush. You wish your mind wasn’t jaded by the reality of things and that you could see the world for the wondrous thing it is.”

“I do see the world for the wondrous thing it is,” he said, taking a bite out of hard bread. “But I also see it for the shitty thing it is. Most dreams die, and most exciting things pass in a flash, and we’re left with the boring and mundane everyday. In fact, that’s what I love the most.”

“The boring and the mundane?” she glanced at him, her gaze askew.

“Aye,” he nodded. “What’s wrong with the boring and the mundane? It’s predictable. Comfortable. It hugs you and warms you and loves you. It doesn’t try to give you a heart attack, it doesn’t force you to do things you’re uncomfortable doing, and you wake up every day knowing exactly what to expect.”

“But... you... you know what to expect,” she said.

“It’s kind of ironic I have to make this point to a fuckin’ Prophet, don’t you think?”

"But--but that's the thing! I dream about the things I know nothing of, Sylas,” she said. “Before I started staying with you, every day... every day was just like what you described it. Boring. Predictable. Same. Most years are hazy and forgettable. How can you say you love that kind of life?”

“Well, mostly because that kind of life doesn’t herald us up a deadly mountain and other manner of adventures that have us bleeding from our brains,” he said. “Come on. Aren’t you a bit tired of dying wherever we go?”

“If you really did want the mundane as you say,” she said. “You would simply repeat loops forever, without trying to learn new things and advance further.”

“... I suppose,” he said. “Wow. You got me. I feel so... naked. As though my soul is laid bare in front of your all-seeing eyes--”

“I’ll punch you!” she exclaimed as she punched him.

“Alright, alright, try to get some rest. Gods know we need it.”

“Yeah...”

The night passed uneventful and silent, with the moon blissfully painting the full arc on the clear sky, and the similar silence beckoning the gold-laden dawn. The two awoke to the same world they left, though one slightly warmer. While Sylas concocted a quick breakfast of the few things they had left, Agnes was already fast-looming over the edge of the spire, overlooking the lake.

“I don’t see anybody,” she said. “It’s the same as yesterday.”

“Yeah? Maybe they’re out, hunting.”

“Hunting? Hunting what?” she returned, asking with a scoff. “Hollow air?”

"Isn't that a bit of a redundancy?"

“What I meant is that there’s nothing here,” she said, sitting down and taking the bowl still-steaming bowl. “No wildlife of any note.”

“Maybe they’re foraging, then. There’s trees and grass and stuff.”

"Or, most likely, it's an ancient site of a long-lost civilization and it's whispering at us to come to inspect it."

"You're hearing whispers? Maybe your connection to the Gods has finally returned. Either that or you've just completely lost your marbles."

“No... no, I can’t hear them,” she mumbled lowly.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“I know what can cheer you up, though.”

“What?”

“A kiss!”

“Ugh, Sylas...”

“How about we go take a look, then?”

“... really?”

“Really.”

"Really!" she put the bowl aside and leaped to her feet and, at that moment, Sylas realized something.

“Oh, son of a bitch,” he mumbled with a creeping smile. “She got me.”

Not bothering to properly put their stuff away, he followed after her--well, he sauntered while she sprinted downhill as though the wind was carrying her. By the time Sylas reached the lakeside, she was already face-glued to one of the rugged and chunky rocks near what looked to be a decrepit wall.

"What's that?" he asked while glancing around--the lake was truly beautiful and breathtaking but, despite that, it was empty--void of life. It was the same with the surrounding forest--beautiful... but empty.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But see these lines? They look like letters, no? Well, not like any that I know, but still...”

“Maybe,” he said, crouching down and taking a deeper look. Before he could say anything else, a window appeared in front of him and shimmered.

You have discovered H’vel.

Reward: Maekel’s Language

Follow-up quest: explore the Ruins of H’vel and learn about its history.

Reward: ???

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

"You suddenly dozed off," she said. "And got this strange look in your eyes."

“Oh, nothing. It’s just... I can read this stuff,” he said

“You can? How?!!” she exclaimed.

“’cause I’m amazing? Otherworldly? Badass?”

“Well, you are an ass. So, what does it say? What does it say?” she asked excitedly.

“It’s a list,” he said. “Three things

"1. When Van'ashi sing, so do we-- ve'lmahal, ve'lmahal

“2. When Dead sing, we do not-- be’tanah, be’tanah

“3. In Maekel we trust, they do not-- ma’han, ma’han”

“...”

“...”

“You may as well just have screamed ‘yadayabababatada’.”

“Yeah, know what you mean,” he chuckled. “But it really says that. I guess you were right.”

“I was?”

"Yeah, this looks to be a remnant of some ancient civilization," he said, standing up and looking forward that the varying buildings of varying degrees of ruin. "Today we uncover something that's been forgotten by the whole world. I suppose it beats the boring and the mundane."

“I’m glad we agree on something,” she said, suddenly grabbing his arm. “Now, come with me. You’re going to be my personal translator in case we run into more of those letters!”

"Lead the way, Princess..."

“I am. Now shush. Let’s go over there first--it looks like a garden. Oh my Gods! That’s kovel flower! I thought it didn’t grow anywhere! The only time I’d seen it was when it fell from the sky. You have to try making tea out of this! Even eating it raw is one of the best experiences ever! Ah, look at that arch--looks like the doors used to be there. Hm, let's see, let's see..."