A Death Unmerited

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The Wasteland – 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—then 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—or possibly just oblivious to her misery—Heyar proposes, “I say we—you and myself, that is—tackle 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.

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The Wasteland – 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—likely 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.

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.

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The Wasteland – 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—a 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—evidenced 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—a 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?