June jumped at the voice. It was… dry, old, and suddenly June had the sense of long-sealed tombs being opened. She turned and stared at the skeletal form that was looking at the two of them.

It looked—a little—like the skeletons of the long-dead saurians who had built the temples. But there were differences. The teeth were longer, the skull narrower. June swallowed and looked up, her eyes meeting the empty sockets, a greenish fire burning in them.

“They didn’t come in here because of you?”

“No. It is my domain, after all.” The strange figure walked towards June, claws tapping on the obsidian floor. “I am Witness.”

“Witness. Are you… a spirit of one of the ones who died here?” June glanced over at Hank but, he wasn’t saying anything.

Witness made a dry coughing sound. He’s laughing. Why is he laughing?

“No. I’m God.” Witness cocked his head, staring at June with an unnerving sense of amusement. “Nothing to say? I doubt I’m the god you expected to see.”

“I didn’t see any gods,” June told him. “But I didn’t, you know, expect a city of the dead, or aliens, or well, any of this. Are you… God?”

“Well, I’m not your god,” Witness said. “Long ago, the People grew. Learned the arts of stone and wood, how to herd, rather than simply hunt. They were always more carnivorous than humans, so their numbers never grew to the same levels as yours did, and most of their permanent structures were rare, the rest being made of wood and vines.” Witness glanced around them. “Only a few great temples were erected, where they put statues of the heroes, of whose who slew the great beasts or fought in wars, or who learned the ways of fire and spear.”

“And they worshiped you.”

“No, they made me.” Witness flicked his tail, the bony segments rattling together. “In the time before the fire and frost, before the death, the Memory Lands were… different. They were a place of contentment. Hunts were challenging—but never too challenging. Battles were enjoyable affairs, and the dead spoke to the living on a regular basis. I rose up in this time, from the thoughts and dreams of a thousand, ten-thousand heroes. The Clan Chiefs spoke to me, and I spoke to them.” Witness sighed, a dry sound. “Ah, I remember those days. Ten thousand years or more. Then…” Witness shook his head. “The sky burned, and those who survived the fire didn’t survive the cold and darkness, or the burning rain. And I had no answers. Nor did any of the champions. They stopped speaking to us, in their last moments, save to curse us—and most of those who came here, came here to curse me in person.”

June stared and frowned, then her eyes opened wide. “Darktown. This is why this is the center. This was the first Darktown.”

“Yes. Our heaven became our graveyard, and those who came here soon realized there would be none to speak to them—none to replace them.” Witness paused. “They prayed to me, then raged, then tore into each other, for this was the end of all their hopes. Our shining existence brought to nothing.”

“Like us.”

“Perhaps.” Witness tilted his head, his eerie voice sounding amused. “You, after all, slew your murderers. As we must now slay your pursuers.”

“Pardon?”

“Your pursuers will hardly leave you alone, and well, I enjoy visitors, but I also enjoy my solitude.” Witness turned. “Follow me. I have something that might assist you.”

Glancing at Hank, June followed the ancient spirit.

As they moved deeper into the structure, June saw statues. Proud warriors and hunters, wise chiefs, even a few who were weaving cloth. Every one gave her a sense of who they were, what they’d done.

Memories. Like Teacher’s home, memories that had been turned solid, stronger than any attempt to fray them.

Hank moved closer to June, and she didn’t mind it. This place had been ancient long before the first human had picked up a club to start on mankind’s path to ruling the earth.

“What was it like?” June finally asked.

“Eh?” Witness paused. “What was what like?”

“Between your death and our rising. Teacher says that you need a sense of… self to come to the Memory Lands. Some animals do, but most don’t.”

“Individuals, no. But the memory lands do change as the living lands do. The land grew around us, new plants, new animals. But it was silent. No more songs of praise or sorrow. No new tales. The ones here, they faded or Moved On, and the land itself changed. The old lands, our lands, faded, first here and then became part of the Dimlit Halls. They have long since vanished.” Then Witness paused and nodded, an odd birdlike motion. “Here we are.” He walked forward and picked up a…

Stick? No. It was a spear. The tip carved and dark from where it had been hardened in a fire. June remembered that from a school video they’d watched.

I wonder how the City will change when the school and every other building has gone the way of the dinosaurs?

Witness held the spear out for her. “I granted your companion a gift when he came here, and for you, I grant you this gift. The use of the spear. The first spear to aid your escape. It will return to me of its own accord, so you do not need to fear having to return it in person.”

June swallowed. She didn’t even think about suggesting that Hank take the spear. Witness had given it to her. She reached out and took it from the spirit and…

The spear felt real. The moment she touched it, she felt images fill her mind. Standing and fighting off a vaster beast. Hardening it, thinking that she’d seen how some wood, when it burned, was harder and going to the fire-tender to gain permission… Fighting, raising the spear up for others to see. A new tool. A way to match the great beasts that hunted the People.

Not a spear. A long-tooth. The creator of the spear had been born long before complex language. But her gift helped gain the People time to learn those other arts.

And it was heavy. She could barely hold it until she took the memories in. Saw them. Not just the first creator but those who had come after, learning newer, better ways to make their tools. At that thought, the spear shivered and changed, the crude form becoming smoother, the tip no longer hardened wood, but an obsidian tip—and then, finally, a copper blade.

Nothing else. The skies had burned before the People had had a chance to move beyond the very first steps of worked metal.

Now the spear was heavy in her hands, but she could hold it and wield it.

“You are learning how to work memories. I saw that when you first entered.” Witness flicked his tail. “Hank could not hold this tool. It would be too great for him. Come, let us proceed to the top of my home. It was there, in the living world, that warriors would attract the flyers of the time, and fight them in order to prove themselves.”

“Me. Go up there.” June stared at him.

“Well, it is a very strong memory. I fear that you will not do well if you are chased by your enemies and so best to face them here, where the memory of other times assists you.”

“I’ll go with you, June,” Hank said. “Wish we could get some more help.”

Witness shook his head, and “I am Witness. It was never my role to fight the People’s battles for them, merely give them inspiration.”

June gripped the spear, her fingers white from the pressure. “Okay.” I’m taking advice from the god of a people who have been dead for 65 million years…

Well, she didn’t expect things would be easy. On the other hand, he was right. Those things could keep chasing them until they found them and they couldn’t stay here forever.

“Witness.” June said. “What do they want?”

“I do not know. I tend to keep to myself and many of your kind, even those who live here, fear me. At the very most, the kind of spirits that end up in this place don’t tend to be very curious. But I wonder if maybe they are trying to make a god. Something to give them some higher meaning.”

“In Darktown?”

“Where else to find the desperate and despairing?” Witness tilted his head, the bluish fire in his skull’s eyesockets growing. “But let us be off. It has been some time since I have witnessed a test of adulthood.”

June guessed there was nothing to say to that, so she and Hank just followed the ancient spirit.