The idea that something was being burned in a place as desolate, abandoned and alien as this was not a thought that troubled me much; it was entirely possible that some kind of unusual plant or some kind of wild animal was doing something that could both smell like smoke or produce a gas or vapour which looked like smoke, something that I would only find out if I decide to investigate this further.

“Well then.” I watch Kliviero while she floats in the air, looking into the distance where the grey mist hung lazily in the air. “Looks like we know where we are wandering now.”

“True.” She flew back down and landed on my shoulder. “It’s not like we’re doing anything better right now. Besides, we might find something interesting for me to tell you about.” She stretched her arms above her head while talking, her joints audibly dislocating and reconfiguring while she did so. The sound alone made me nauseous; the crunches of metal plates shifting around closely resembled the sound of bone breaking and crunching back in place.

“Any guesses on what it could be?” I ask quietly, fighting off the desire to violently throw up from the alarming sounds coming from my right. I resume our walk through the woods in the direction of the strange smell.

“I’ve got a few guesses,” Kliviero murmured after a few seconds of thought. “But none of them are ideal….” She reluctantly added, her tone and demeanour changed almost entirely afterwards.

“What do you mean by that?” I question her; if there was something out there that got her this worried, then I should probably be aware of it for my own safety as well. While I waited for her to answer my question, I observed the woods before us getting dense and taller; if Kliviero had said earlier about the forest being planned, then that would mean that we were entering the oldest parts.

“Fortunately for you, but by a long shot, unfortunately for me and my kind, there are several….” She paused and chuckled for a moment. “‘Civilized’ societies around the Abyss, many are capable of traversing the vast distances between the islands….” She paused again, only this time no laughter or muted chuckles followed the pause. “And absolutely none of them prioritize friendly interaction with entities other than their own. So, in other words, we might potentially have a rather serious problem on our hands up ahead...”

“A rather serious problem?” I stop walking entirely, unsure whether or not I should continue knowing that there was a possibility that I could be in danger.

“Don’t worry about it!” She patted the side of my head and let out a nervous laugh. “I’m sure we’ll be perfectly fine; I highly doubt it’s anything terrible; trust me, we would know by now if it was.”

“That still doesn’t discount that there is something out there right now that is….” I was cut off.

“Oh, relax.” Kliviero tried to reassure me. “Tell you what, the absolute worst-case scenario you have to put up with a history lesson from me. Best case scenario, it’s absolutely nothing, and we can look around some more.”

“If you say so…” I reluctantly nod after a few moments of silent contemplation, resuming our approach on the grey mist.

We were walking through the increasingly thicker and taller trees for what felt like, if I had to guess, thirty minutes. The further we went, the denser and denser the grey mist got the smell of burning, getting slightly stronger, confirming that the mist was, in fact, smoke, albeit distant smoke. While we walked, Kliviero remained oddly quiet, occasionally hopping off of my shoulder to float into the canopy above and shortly thereafter return, occasionally followed by one of the strange bee’s that I saw earlier.

“Hey, what’s up with those weird bees?” I pipe up after a huge one bumbled past me and returned to the canopy high above. “They seem to like you.”

“Yeah, they are a fascinating little thing, aren’t they?” She smiled after returning to my shoulder; she watched the bee retreat to the canopy patiently before continuing. “The humble Ashen Bee, a reclaimed ceramic insectoid designed to pollinate and maintain the various plants around the Abyss.” She sounded proud while describing what they were. “They are remarkably friendly, if you are nice to them, though they seem to have a fondness for Engravists such as myself.”

“I don’t suppose you can talk to them, can you?” I rolled my eyes, expecting to get called out for such a stupid question.

“They can communicate through pheromones and various clicks, which I can mimic fairly well but not perfectly, unfortunately….” She responded shockingly enough, though I don’t claim to believe that I have the right to be shocked by anything in this place anymore. “They are remarkably docile considering what they are built to do, funnily enough, they were supposed to be highly territorial as well, but that changed a while ago when….” She stopped entirely, shook her head and sighed. “Never mind.”

“I’ll take it that I am not supposed to know why it changed?” I turned to look at her. “Or is it something you’re not supposed to talk about?” While I quizzed her, she turned to look away, only to look back, her face scrawled with sorrow.

“There was one of my kin who was fabricated a very long time ago, much larger than myself, probably larger than you come to think about it. She was designed to serve as a reclamation unit of sorts, go around and find rotten plants, engulf and digest them down into ash and dust for processing into the wide range of ceramics our kind were known for….” She spoke softly, and her wings retreated into her back while she spoke, slowly moulding into a cape since they were not in use. “She didn’t exactly turn out ‘right’ so to say, the masters tried to dismantle her….” She stopped again. “Well, she managed to break away from them, escaping into the wilds of the Abyss. Shortly thereafter, the bees started to appear, whether coincidental or not, I don’t know, but considering they fulfilled the same role she was supposed to, I find it hard to believe that they aren’t linked somehow.”

I silently listened to her story, poring over the details with great care. The more I thought about what she said, the more my mind fixated on The Statue from a few nights ago. While it is entirely possible that she was a completely different entity in its entirety, the description and the proximity fit the bill shockingly well.

“I don’t suppose she was fabricated from a splotchy black and white material by any chance, was she?” I tried to pry for more details about this figure she spoke of, curious if there was a correlation between what I saw and the description Kliviero provided.

“W-well yes…” She stammered, seemingly unnerved by my educated guess. “H-how did you know?” She asked, jumping from my shoulder and fluttering a matter of inches in front of my face. “Have you seen her? Where was she?”

“I did a few days ago, though I wouldn’t say she was thrilled to see me….” I snickered nervously; truth be told, I didn’t know if giving The Statue an identity or a character would make me feel any better about her or her actions. If anything, it troubled me greatly knowing that this thing could be built; considering that this is the same thing stalking me in the real world, how many more were out there?

“Oh, yeah, that sounds like her.” Kliviero tutted once she returned to my shoulder once again. “She was quite defensive from what I remember, so I’m not surprised that she was displeased to see you.” I took a minute to look behind me while a few muffled clicks and chitters ring out. I turned to see what she was watching, only to catch another of the Ashen Bees floating away from me at some pace.

“Speaking to the bees again?” I tease her after seeing her bee friend retreating yet again. “Is he getting jealous?”

“Oh, stop it!” She kicked me especially hard in the chest, and the vaguely pointed feet left slight dents in my shirt from the force of the kick. “They were actually rather useful, all things considered.”

“Ow.” I wince from the kick. “Well, what were they saying?” I asked, patting the top of my chest where she kicked me. “Anything useful or related to the smell of smoke?”

“Actually, they did have something exciting to tell me.” She repositioned herself on my shoulder and folded her arms impatiently. “Turns out that the local hive’s foragers and scouts have been spotting movement in the woods up ahead, shadowy figures which they haven’t ever seen before.”

“Okay, what’s that supposed to mean?” I tilt my head to the side and carefully observe the increasingly thickening foliage before us; the grass was reaching my waist, and the bushes were almost up to my chest in height. “I’m going to assume that means we have something troublesome ahead of us?” By now, the increasingly dense trees and foliage, in general, had caused a gentle shade to descend upon the forest floor.

“Possibly, though the description isn’t exact,” Kliviero explained. “Unfortunately, they never got close enough to figure out what exactly the figures were or what they were doing.” She groaned; the lack of information must have been exceptionally problematic for her. “Anyways, where did you see her?” She reminded me of her previous query.

“I was in some strange sculpture garden of sorts, massive reflective pool, a tall black stone obelisk,” I spoke about what I saw in the garden. “There were some weird masked figures with bizarre pole-arms, the list goes on, but it’s where I woke up today. I was going to head down one of the passageways that lead out of the garden only to get attacked by her while trying to go through said passageway, coincidentally the same passage which led to this place.” I roll my eyes. “Does any of that sound familiar to you?” I turn to ask Kliviero.

“I can’t say it does….” She mused for a moment. “It’s been a long time since I was actually tasked with any engraving work, plus I’ve taken part in the carving of so many sculptures and statues that I highly doubt I would remember the place solely on the design of the statues there, unfortunately, but….” She trailed off and scratched her head intently, shaking her head violently after a couple of seconds of intense scratching. “Well, whatever that obelisk is, it’s causing me a headache just thinking about it. The masters always desired that aspect in things if they had the chance to get it, the whole remotely causing problems thing is a thing they are excellent at….”

“Funnily enough, it caused me a great deal of direct pain.” I sharply exhale, remembering all too well just how painful an experience it was to encounter the obelisk up close. “In all seriousness, though, that reminds me. I remember seeing something in the reflective pool, a figure that looked a fair bit like yourself, just a fair bit larger and more organic….”

“Now that’s very interesting….” Kliviero spoke over me before I could describe what I saw in the pool in greater detail. “I can’t remember the name the masters gave it, but those kinds of pools are both exceedingly rare and very, very important to their plans.” She ominously explained. “Would explain why they installed an obelisk there, perhaps some means of protecting the pool from unwanted observers, though that wouldn’t explain why you were able to wake up beside the obelisk without it trying to ‘get to you' again.”

While listening to my pixie-like companion speak in such vague terms, I nodded quietly that one would be better off trying to comprehend someone speaking in nought but riddles. While listening to her talk about her ‘masters’ and their exceptionally puzzling plans, I found myself wondering more intently about why they would even need something like that; was it purely just to scare the socks off of any poor sod who looked into the pool? If so, why?

My idle thoughts ground to a halt within moments due to an unknown noise coming from my left flank. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but it sounded like something rustling through the grass behind a thicket of bushes. I stopped moving entirely and listen closely, allowing me to faintly hear something drawing raspy breaths merely a dozen or so meters away.

“Wait, stop!” Kliviero lowers her voice to an almost silent whisper while kicking my chest again; this time, it was a lot harder than before. “Stay here; I’m going to go and check that out.” She fluttered off of my shoulder and stuck close to the very tips of the vibrant grass. She ceased her flight just before reaching the thicket and landed in the grass, which towered over her, allowing her to disappear into the thicket without a trace.

I wait patiently, not wanting to draw the attention of whatever was on the other side of the thicket. I reach into my pocket, retrieve my fountain pen, and remove the lid; even though it would have made for an absolutely atrocious weapon, it wasn’t like I had much in the way of choices for self-defence here. The stainless steel tip glittered faintly in the occasional splotch of light, which worked its way through the dense canopy high above.

I jolted impulsively defensively when I hear another muted rustle, followed by Kliviero emerging from the thicket; her eyes were stretched wide open while she flew at full tilt towards me, only to surge past my shoulder and point at something.

“Get back, right now!” She murmured out through gritted teeth while pointing towards a nearby tree. I nod and rush the tree, quickly throwing myself around its trunk. Once behind it, I could hear an aggressive rasp followed by plant matter being violently cleaved apart.

“Don’t move, and for the love of all that is holy, don’t make a sound,” Kliviero whispered in my ear, landing on my shoulder and locking in place, motionlessly waiting there while I slowed my own breathing.

Whatever it was, I could hear it getting closer to my hiding spot; the grass made very little noise while whatever it was walked through the thick scrawl of grass blades. Far more concerning was that the thing’s footsteps were almost entirely silent, as if the thing was walking on giant semi articulate pins rather than legs.

While the thing moved around outside of view, I could hear what sounded like light scale-mail clicking and grinding while it moved, a sound that was getting closer still. I look down to the fountain pen in my hand, entirely aware that this thing would be functionally useless against something with some kind of body armour, but simply having it on hand brought me a very vague sense of security. My heart was beating so hard that it could have sprung free from my chest.

The thing sounded like it stopped moving for a moment; its deep raspy breathing was a lot louder and deeper now; it must not have been any further than two meters or less away from me. I could smell something close to the scent of a mixture of roses and incense being burnt nearby, perhaps in possession of whatever was around the corner. For whatever reason, whether divine intervention or pure luck, the thing let out a sharp, frustrated snort and resumed moving, only this time the sound grew quieter and further away.

I remained motionless, standing bolt still while it continued to get further and further away, gradually calm descended upon me, my pulse slowed back to normal. I felt a bit safer now that the thing was leaving.

“Okay, I think it’s leaving us alone now, but remain still,” Kliviero whispered while trying to peer around the trunk; she seemed utterly unconvinced that we were out of the proverbial woods just yet. “That was far too close, way too damn close.” She takes off from my shoulder once the sound of the thing walking was far enough away that it couldn’t hear her wings beating. Drifting around the corner, she moved slowly, making sure she had enough time to dart back if it was still there.

“Yup, he’s gone.” She continued to whisper, presumably not entirely confident that they were, in fact, gone. “That was far closer than I’d have liked it to be; I am so sorry.” She looked like she was about to cry. “Oh, stars above, that could have been so bad!” She was visibly shaking from the close encounter.

“Hey, it’s okay; we’re safe.” I approached her cautiously, unaware of the whereabouts of the thing, and tried to comfort her. “It’s not going to hurt us; it’s all gone.” I look around to see if I could spot the thing. The thicket it had gone through was cloven open, and a cloud of sickly aquamarine dust was bleeding from the branches and twigs which were broken apart; the air was filled with the smell of copper. “So, what was that thing?”

“That…” She shuddered. “...Thing was a Zhivaq raider, a rather stocky one too, for that matter.” She rubbed the back of her neck while explaining. “Nasty insectoid people, you have no idea how lucky you are that it didn’t find us just then.” She briefly scanned the thicket again, still unconvinced that we were safe. “Had a really nasty ceramic spear as well; I don’t think your clothes would offer up much in the ways of protection against something like that….”

“That’s very encouraging….” I sigh again; I was displeased knowing that this ‘Zhivaq’ raider could have killed me fairly easily, but I was hoping that Kliviero wouldn’t have been quite so blunt about it. “Wait, ceramic? Why ceramic of all things?” I ask, curious about why something supposedly intelligent would opt to make weapons of war from ceramic rather than metal or even stone; it’s not really known for durability or holding an edge outside of a few highly advanced compounds made in the real world.

“There is very little metal in the Abyss; the masters assumed that there was something to the fabric of the world around us that is anathema to most metallic materials.” Kliviero landed on my shoulder and caught her breath. “So, the various races and civilizations here have to make do with substitutes; that’s where the Ashen Clay comes in. And yes, the Ashen Bee’s have something to do with it.” Kliviero barked before I could ask if there was a link between them. “I’ll tell you later; we have more pressing issues right now….”

“Yeah, like where that bastard came from and if there are any more of them.” I raise my voice a bit while approaching the cloven thicket, ducking down to the left side of the gash. The aquamarine dust billowing out from the broken branches gave off a powerful smell of copper. I could taste brass in the air while my eyes burned and teared up from the presence of the dust. In the distance, I could vaguely hear some kind of clicking sound, though I was unsure about its origin. After clearing my eyes of dust and tears, I blink rapidly and slowly look around the edge to see what’s on the other side of the thicket.

Through the gap, I saw that the land gradually dropped off into a wide hollow in the ground at the base of a fallen sail-tree which the thicket had obscured. The pit was easily three dozen meters wide and a meter or two in-depth. The closest edge hollow was around two or three dozen meters away from the thicket I was hiding behind; the land between me and the edge had been cut down to the brackish, barren soil leaving no grass to obscure the ground. Without the grass to cover the ground, I noticed a vast array of mushrooms mixed in with the grass blades, entirely obscured from above. Looking to the unbroken canopy, I could see that several of the other trees had quickly overtaken the void the fallen tree had left, showing how rapidly the sail-trees could adapt.

A rather considerable campsite inhabited the hollow itself. I could make out dozens of figures within the camp from where I stood, either sitting around the large bonfire at its very heart or busying themselves with various tasks. All around the camp were large yurt-like tents, their fabric woven from a mixture of dried plant matter, and their wooden posts appeared to have been scavenged from the fallen tree.

The matted root ball of the sail-tree, while fairly large and mostly suspended in the air the hollow, had been partially chipped and broken away by those who sheltered in said hollowly. A series of scaffolds allowed some of the figures to climb up to the root and hack away the ancient root wood chunks.

Speaking of the figures, I could now get a fairly decent look at the kind of things in the camp and, by extension, the thing that got exceptionally close to killing us. The figures were remarkably spindly; their legs and arms were far thinner than human arms and legs while also having a stocky torso and a blocky head.

Overall they had a narrow silhouette. However, this rough outline was bulked out by their clothes, mostly woven meshes of compacted and dried plant fibre and scale plates of what looked like tree bark or fired clay forming a crude, unstandardized kind of fishes mail. A singular large ceramic plate was fashioned into a right shoulder pauldron, a rather unusual addition that clashed with the crudeness of the rest of their armour.

The suits of armour were mounted with a variety of incense sticks across their right pauldrons and chest plates which smouldered in the dull breeze. The smell in the middle of that camp must have been overwhelming, considering each Zhivaq must have had a minimum of six sticks burning at a time from their holders.

From a glance, the suits looked like they would barely survive a direct hit from a particularly violent gust of wind, let alone the clash of blades or the thrust of a spear. However, one would assume that the suits compensated for this by being fairly repairable in the field.

I could see a couple of groups wandering around the outskirts of the camp, usually in groups of five, gathering various plants and mushrooms from around the edge of the cleared ground, the odd one or two returning to the camp carrying vast quantities of vibrant grass blades tied into bundles which they carried atop their shoulders.

Those that weren’t lugging bundles of plant matter, hacking away at the tree root or otherwise busy in the camp were openly carrying a variety of weapons and shields, most of which looked exceptionally primitive even by the standards of this place. Most of them were armed with a long spindly spear, many of which had deformed shafts with several knots and lumps along its length and were topped by a roughly foot long ceramic blade. However, some appeared to be made from a greenish glass, with a sharpened point and a roughly bevelled edge running along one side. It was far too narrow to be a hewing spear, so I assumed it was either a hunting spear or a standard combat spear, though why they chose to use spear shafts as atrocious as they were wielding was unclear at this time.

Inside the camp, I spotted one of the entities lugging the bundles to a wooden rack that had been assembled above the bonfire and laying the blades out to dry out in the smoke. Another entity, presumably an assistant or an apprentice, collected the dry blades and processed them with a rickety makeshift loom, breaking the dried grass blades down into spools of multicoloured thread and woven sheets of rough fabric.

Adjacent to this structure was a large glazed cooking pot hoisted above a pile of burning wood pulled out from the bonfire; the fire was far too tall for such a cooking pot, and the smoking rack preventing its installation atop the bonfire. The contents of the pot, a thick stew made from various berries and roots from various plants, were bubbling vigorously. A figure was, quite literally, shovelling piles upon piles of ingredients into the stew. It looked exceptionally unappetizing from what little I could see, but I will admit that it didn’t smell that bad. A mixture of sweet aromas and spices flooded my nostrils while it bubbled away aggressively.

A few of the figures were mulling around the bonfire eating roasted mushrooms, berries and bowls of the stew, idly clacking among themselves, their spears leaned up against a fence and their shields propped up against the side of a large tent. For a group of angry savages, they appeared rather happy with their lot in life, a respectable stance all things considered in this vibrant hellscape.

While I sat by the thicket, I could hear the things, well, talking, I think. The Zhivaq figures would make these disturbing clicking and clacking sounds at one another. A few hand gestures and sharp motions of their heads added presumably for more complicated strings of words; it didn’t really resemble anything that sounded even remotely like a language. I could tell that one of the patrols, one which was fairly close to us for that matter, appeared to be looking for something; the clicking they made sounded faster and louder than those of the other figures I could vaguely make out, that and they were acting far more aggressively, levelling their spears and partially raising their shields rather than holding them idly to their sides.

I had a feeling that I needed to escape. I needed to get away from this place; if literally a single one of these things saw me, I’d have an entire camp filled with armed and armoured Zhivaq running me down within moments. One or two of them, I at least stood a non-zero chance, but five, ten, thirty, no chance.

“Okay, I think it’s time to leave.” I look over the Kliviero and cock my head nervously while backing away from the cloven thicket. “Like, right now...”

Before I could actively turn and retreat, I hear the sound of a small group of Zhivaq rushing the thicket alongside high pitched, alarmed clicking. The one who came through probably warned them that there was something up here that needed investigating urgently.

“I’ll try to distract them.” Kliviero stammered, drifting from my shoulder and heading back towards the thicket quietly. The footsteps were getting louder.

“No, don’t you dare let them catch you!” I raise my voice while turning back to her; she looks at me then turns back to the thicket, just in time to catch one of the Zhivaq rushing up to the thicket, spotting me...

The thing just stood there, stopped dead in its advance and going deathly silent. It stared at me through a rough wooden mask, with a large black flame dyed into its forehead, that covered its face save for a pair of chiselled eye-slits. From its hollow, vacant, marble-like eyes, I could tell that it was extremely confused by what it was witnessing; it’s probably never seen a human before.

While it stood there, motionless and silent, I continued to back away while maintaining visual contact with the thing. Kliviero hastily flew back to me, climbing onto my shoulder and trying to hide behind my neck and head. I could feel her shaking in terror of these things.

Two other armed Zhivaq joined it shortly thereafter, and they two were frozen while looking at me. I had managed to gain another couple of meters between me and thicket, easily ten or so meters of distance between the armed beasts, far too close considering the situation and me.

A few moments pass, earning me another meter, but this would be the last meter of free space I would gain; the first Zhivaq starts to growl, raises its spear into an overarm grip, raising its shield to its front and beings to advance. The rest start to growl in unison, hammering their shields with their spears while advancing on me.

As one can imagine, it didn’t exactly take long for me to decide on my next move. I turned around and ran as fast as my legs could carry me. Prompting a bestial roar to erupt from one of the things behind me.

A whooshing sound, followed by a rough pole-shaped object flying past me within a matter of meters, slammed into the ground not far in front of me. The bastards were throwing their spears at me!

A few seconds later, another spear flies past me much, much closer than I was comfortable with. Unlike the last spears, this one had been thrown rather poorly; the shaft snapped in twain, and the head shattered upon hitting the soil.

Looking over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of one of the things reaching for something behind their shield. I didn’t keep looking long enough to find out what it was, though, in retrospect, that was an unwise decision.

Another couple of seconds pass, the sound of me breathing hastily while maintaining a full spring was interrupted by a high pitched, baleful whistling noise which grew deafening within a split second, followed by a dull thud and a crunch…

Something had hit me in my left shoulder, hard…

I was sent tumbling to the ground, rolling through the grass while pain erupted in my chest. My arm was partially locked in place by something which had run my shoulder joint through. I could feel the left side of my chest and my back becoming wet with blood; whatever had hit me had hit some major arteries, it would seem...

Looking down to my chest while trying to stand up, I could see five inches of a greenish translucent blade protruding from just above my second rib, though judging by my locked arm, whatever it was, it must have splinted on impact.

The pain was unbearable; within seconds, my vision pulsed with light, and my hearing shifted to a high pitched ringing.

I collapsed onto the dull soil face down, my vision becoming foggier and foggier. Kliviero was nowhere in sight; all I could do was hope she had managed to escape during the chaos somehow.

I woke up in my flat around four in the morning, my chest burned, and my arm ached so badly that I thought I had broken it somehow during the night. I could hear my pulse echoing around my head. My vision was overly blurry and foggy; it felt like the real world wasn’t actually that real anymore…

Once I had gotten out of bed, had a shower and brushed my teeth, I noticed something very unusual in the mirror; I could see a large bruise forming on the left side of my chest. Turning around to check my back, an equally sized bruise formed there as well, but the bruises didn’t hurt when I applied pressure to them; they just ached passively while I went about my morning routine. Worse still is that I remembered the moment where I was struck by whatever it was the Zhivaq who chased me threw at me, perhaps some kind of war dart or throwing knife? A question for another time.

I honestly found myself unsure about my next course of action; now that I knew that this strange place was inhabited by civilized entities, especially ones with the intelligence to form organized camps, I knew that things were about to get a lot more complicated. So many questions and theories, so little time to contemplate them in the most passing and trivial formats, but one question stuck out the most…

Who the hell was this Kliviero lady, where did she go, and why was she helping me?