Chapter 135

Cathia

While Asha smiled excitedly and gestured with her hands and arms toward the sky, Sylas stood silenced, staring at the vortex that appeared out of nowhere. He’d witnessed many-a-strange thing in his life here on this world, and this one might be the strangest one yet. Wiping his eyes as though there was an audience watching, he sighed and glanced at Asha suddenly.

“You said you can hear the gods?”

“Yeah!! Isn’t it amazing?!”

“Sure, yeah, great,” he said. “Can you tell them to drop us some booze? I need to get drunk. Like, right now.”

“Huh? Why?”

“That?” Sylas pointed with both arms toward the vortex. “What the fuck is that?”

“Oh, right,” pulled out of her delirium over having finally begun hearing the Gods again, she looked toward the vortex and felt strange herself. “I... I don’t know. Maybe it’s, it’s like a hole in the world? That lets me hear the Gods again?”

“Maybe, I dunno,” Sylas said, rubbing his chin. “I’d still like that booze, though. Before I walk through that, I need to at least be tipsy.”

“Walk through it?” Asha quizzed.

"Yeah, it's obviously at least a portal of some sort," Sylas shrugged. "I mean, that's literally what you described--a hole in the world. Leading elsewhere. The question is... where? And how? And why here? And, seriously, what the fuck is going on?"

“Uh...” while Asha reeled in confusion, Sylas sat down by the lakeside and continued to stare at the strange sight.

Nothing changed any further--the vortex remained spinning on its axis, though otherwise unmoving, with the lake resuming its stillness, somehow, someway. It was a strange sight to behold, but it reminded Sylas of something similar he’d seen before--the gaping hole in the sky. The man who came down on the chains appeared to have come out of a similar hole, though admittedly one much larger and far less ‘friendly-looking’.

Suddenly, as though that memory lit up a bulb in the library of knowledge, Sylas recalled something--specifically, he recalled that even further, and the words that the figure in the sky spoke out that day: The living bear witness, and heed the warning. Those you have Condemned have returned. Van’ashi shall have their vengeance. It is our calling.

“Van’ashi!! Of course!!!” Sylas suddenly exclaimed, startling Asha.

“W-w-what?” she asked.

“Van’ashi, the name on the stone,” he turned around and ran toward the inscribed stone. “I know now! I know why it sounded so familiar!”

“Why?” Asha questioned curiously.

“A long, long, looooong ago,” he said. “The first time we went north and discovered the city of the dead--well, there wasn’t a city there yet, just a valley. We actually witnessed the first dead descend from the sky. And one figure who got dragged down on the chains mentioned Van’ashi. But... it, it doesn’t make sense. Considering that and this, it means that Van’ashi are entirely separate from the dead? What the hell does it mean? Hmm, that woman we met mentioned the figure on the chains and said something akin to that dude being their King, right? If he’s their king, then they are Van’ashi? No, wait--that thing never actually called himself Van’ashi. It simply mentioned that Van’ashi will have their vengeance!! Right!! Yes, the Dead’s calling is to exact revenge in Van’ashi’s name! Or, or something like that. Now... I only have to figure out... who the fuck are Van’ashi?”

“So, the thing we always needed to figure out?”

“... yeah, pretty much. But now I at least know how it’s connected. Kind of. Maybe. Fuck, I hate this world.”

“Here’s the drinks you asked for,” she suddenly handed him a glass of wine with a smile. “Looks like you now need it even more.”

“As do you,” he said. “We’re not waiting. Start drinking. When we’re wobbly and hazy, we’re walking through that thing.”

“Oookayy~~”

Aside from learning who Van’ashi were, there was another name, right there on the stone, that muddied the waters--Maekel. Whoever lived here, apparently, worshiped a figure by that name--it could have been someone like a King, or perhaps a normal deity of the culture, or somebody else entirely. However, whoever it may be, Sylas knew that the name was central to the mystery of the entire continent, it seemed.

By now, he had many pieces combined into tomes of knowledge and could, with decent confidence, suppose on many other aspects. He could, almost with absolute certainty, suppose that the Kingdom's Royal Family had either a deal with the Dead or perhaps had it at some point prior to the Kingdom's founding. Furthermore, the Empire that stood on the peninsula before the Kingdom was felled in no small part by the pincer attack from both the dead and the living forces.

Furthermore, Shadows as he came to call them, the phantom figures capable of the grand supernatural, seemed to predate the Kingdom and were actually remnants of the Empire, at least partially. It is also likely that they, directly or indirectly, created the seeming anti-Kingdom cult that Sylas had been battling against ever since coming to this world.

Then there were the Gods--Sylas, though never saying anything to Asha, was beyond certain that the Gods were, at least in part, responsible for what happened to the Empire. Not necessarily with direct tampering, but potentially with 'ascending' ordinary people to the level of Shadows. What the man the two met in the village mentioned, especially about breaking the shackles of godhood, stuck with Sylas; it is entirely possible that the Empire either slighted Gods in some fashion or were simply collateral in the godly wars. However, this provided the opportunity to the 'Champions' to sever the bonds and chains.

The founding of the Kingdom, at least on the surface level of examination, looked more and more to be an act of defiance and freedom. However, due to the muddied histories, buried secrets, and words never spoken out into the public, a lot of diverging ideas had taken root within the Kingdom’s borders in the last thousand years.

A whole millennium, after all, was a long time. The sheer fact that the Kingdom actually lasted that long in and of itself was perhaps the most shocking aspect of everything, in addition to it being sustained by one, singular, continuous Royal Line of all things.

Many truths swam and swam in his head, though they were being challenged repeatedly by new findings. All else notwithstanding, at least he knew that by uncovering who Van’ashi were, he was likely to uncover at least one of the big three mysteries that he formed in his head--what was the goal of the massive army of the Dead? The other two had to do with what precisely happened to the Empire, and why Valen actually got banished in the first place.

He felt that by answering those three key questions, most other mysteries will resolve themselves, though there were still some outliers--such as the Crow and the Doe--that didn’t really fit into anywhere.

Half an hour and two empty bottles of wine later, the two got respectably drunk and, with somewhat shaky resolves, began ascending the stairs and walking toward the vortex.

“Even if we die, it likely won’t be painful,” Sylas comforted her. “The space will simply rip us to shreds in seconds. You won’t even have time to think ‘oh, gosh, what if I don’t remember kissing Sylas?’.”

“... I haven’t even thought of that!” she suddenly exclaimed. “What if I really don’t remember it?! Won’t that be awful?”

“Yeah, sure, but we’ll get there again. It’s not as though your feelings will change.”

“Yes, that’s true,” she nodded. “Alright. Whatever happens, then.”

She closed her eyes, but Sylas kept them open fully as they walked in. For a moment, the only thing he could see was darkness. The very next, after the feeling of a slight breeze edging over him, the world spun out as though he was opening a book... and he found himself lodged between two brick-laid buildings, in a small alleyway.

As soon as they could hear again, the bustle of a genuine city entered their ears. Asha opened her eyes and stared slack-jawed, once again, at where they were. Even Sylas had to pause for a moment and ensure he wasn't just dreaming this up. Walking out of the alleyway, the pair found themselves at the side of a massive, twenty-foot wide street ripe with passersby as well as merchant stalls. Surrounding the street, as well as them, were tall, grand buildings all around, each seemingly more elaborate than the last.

“Excuse me,” Sylas stopped one of the people passing by. “Could, could you tell us where we are?”

“Aye? Ah, dear lad, ‘ow drunk’d you get last ‘ight, eh?” the man spoke in a thick accent, laughing after the fact. “Y’er at Bushaw’s Market. Follow north and y’er’ll be at the Kingly Plaza.”

“Uh, no, no, I mean... what city?” even Sylas felt somewhat embarrassed asking the question, but he had to.

“Oh my! Ah, feel it on y’er breath,” the man laughed once again. “You’re in Cathia, young lad! Beautiful capital of our grand Ethernia Kingdom!”

“...” No, seriously, what the fuck?!