Shard strapped to her waist and book tucked away, she climbed the walls with practiced steps; she soon left the place. Sitting on the ground, she dug her hands into the soil, feeling the moist grass cut short, planted on a thin layer of soft earth; the moisture flowed towards a small stream, the distant babbling hinting a river. The whispering wind blew, gloomy, she trembled at the cold and hugged her thighs, head lowered.
In front lay a cluster of dark blue shadows much too even, an unrecognizable blend at any distance. Few fiery lights, small and far in-between, hovered nearby the red flowers; they extended their petals and sucked them in, growing brighter and more alluring, never gracing to stay still. She rested her head on her thighs, lips puckered, staring at the only discernible shadow in the distance; a small dot, unworthy of the sun and the moon, but bright enough to reach all corners of Eternal Dawn. It was too far away.
Some leaves shuffled close by, she rose on alert, a firm grasp on the shard; another sequence of disturbances, through squinted eyes she could vaguely sense a tiny human form. Hollow wood piped against the hard rock beneath the soil, stumbling toward her; a cawing murder of crows accompanied the resounding wood, as black as to surpass the night. One flock silent at every tumble, they sat on the branches of high trees and stared pointedly at the woman, until all motion stopped.
Not far from her was the figure of a child, one bird on each shoulder, a staff higher than his head; the faint light delineated a blindfold, his chubby cheeks and round face a statement to a tender age. His large robe looked too big for his small body, appearing warm and comfy, if a bit dirty.
-Sister, do you come from Last Refuge? - he spoke slowly.
Setting aside the shard, her eyebrows rose and her lips curved into a smile; she nodded. The boy let escape a soft sigh, also smiling towards her.
-In that case, you should head toward the palace atop the cliff – he pointed towards the light - the lady that lives in there can help you.
The woman’s smile stiffened, and she glanced uncomfortably at the black spots slowly spreading on the shard. The boy felt around his waist and tugged at a string hanging from the belt.
-Here, for you – he presented a fragrant sachet – you need it more than I do.
She accepted the little pouch; as it approached her nose, she sniffed the distinct smell of purple drop, fresh and mildly sweet, like the tree sap. Her smile deepened, bowing towards the boy, who clutched to the side to avoid it.
-Then, I will be on my way. Good luck – he waved his hand and resumed pounding the ground with his staff, the crows following after him.
The woman watched his figure quickly disappearing in the dark, and kept watching until the sounds grew faint, scratching her palms; after he was gone, she opened the book and the image of the boy was erected, yet as the words surged, the dark spots in the shard swallowed it whole, her arm turning as black as ink. Alarmed by the scathing pain, she dropped the tome and they receded. Pouting, she grabbed the book once more, on the first page surged the image of the sachet.
Bottomless Pouch: A small white pouch, engraved with the seven moons and the open round fan. Thul and Ezrayen, Gods that ruled over time and space, spent their idle time weaving those exquisite pouches, giving them away to their brothers and sisters; sometimes they were bestowed upon creatures who pleased them, eventually reaching the hands of men. At one point after the events of Gods’ War, they quickly disappeared; in time, people forgot about their existence. Can store inanimate items, and exudes a familiar smell.
She strapped the pouch to her waist and put the shard inside, leaving out the cloth handle. High earthen walls pressed against each other, surrounding her, a natural chasm, or caved back a great distance to accommodate the ravines, up to the grass highlands or down to obscurity. Right Ahead, grass gave way to the dilapidated stone steps, a road older than humanity that survived time’s erosion, red flowers quickly floating on her way.
The woman observed them for a moment, before hearing the familiar screech of a cannibal up ahead. She held the shard on a tight grip, came surging another wave of animal howls; like a dam breaking, a collection of beastly cries followed, unknown how many. She bit her lip and made her way towards the closest ravine, taking cover on the wall.
From the corner of her eye, the humanoid shapes trampled upon each other in a mad chase, throwing themselves on the air and capturing the flowers; their long canines bit into the petals, a dark red liquid flowing from the wound, vanishing inside their mouths. Some escaped to her ravine; the woman’s eyes widened, heart beating wildly, she looked at the trail of red bubbles disappearing behind her and clenched her fists, still as death.
The mob clashed, their roaring rammed on her ears. Ripping apart those hindering their way, cutting limbs and piercing through necks, the corpses mounted on the path; latecomers flocked to the dead, gnawing the flesh, drinking the blood, cracking the bones and slurping the marrow.
The woman quietly slipped to another corner, heading down. The path was hidden behind the wall, unable to receive the blue light; she squinted her eyes at a distant flower and looked toward the path behind her, the disturbing noises faint. She breathed in silently and continued walking down.
The flower had a feeble glow, pulsing a black tinted pink; she slowly approached, tapping the ground with careful steps, and plucked it. She felt a sting on her fingers as the petals gained a vibrant red color, blooming. Opening the book, the first page drew a tiny eight-legged creature, its oval body covered by golden wings, appearing fluffy; beneath, a flat stomach with a mouth of needle-like protrusions.
Scarlet Rose: A bloodsucking parasite. As the popularity of blood magic grew, sources of human blood continuously decreased; this insect was developed by blood mages to solve the problems of the growing vampire population, and the demanding needs of magical experimentation. The alternative source had no success in placating their thirst, and little scientific importance, so they spread them through Eternal Dawn to drive the cannibals away from the city outskirts. The body is poisonous, but the appendices are meaty and rich in blood.
The parasite sucked a large amount of blood, shining vividly; she crushed it and held the flower to light the path. Her feet plunged into rancid still water, in which floated big round leaves and saggy foliage, quickly replaced by mud hard to move on; hollow trunks drifted with mushrooms of spiked caps, prickling her legs. Silence reigned absolute, oddly so, but each step was a sharp knife cutting through it. The large roots drinking the mud led to the uneven shapes of the trees’ trunks, carrying branches full of feathery leaves. They covered the swamp like a cave's ceiling, hanging down and brushing against her skin, itching and burning; she sucked in her lips and clenched her teeth, blood rolling on her tongue.
Scarlet roses and common bloodsuckers latched on her body, she climbed a tree root and sat on it, tearing them along with the skin; her lips curved down, she opened her mouth and ate them.
-No! How could you?!
The woman frowned, plucked a petal, and sent it on the direction of the voice; alert, she heard muffled steps approaching. The petal shone upon a cloaked figure, who gently encased it within his palms.
-Do you have any idea how valuable this is? - he opened his hands and found the petal no longer shining, bellowing angrily – this is the key to the survival of humanity!
One eyebrow raised, she walked towards the man and offered the flower. While he carefully held it, she observed his clothes, noticing the washed-out symbol on the chest; she held her chin with the left hand and frowned deeply.
The man talked for a while, soon noticing the problem with her lack of words; he didn’t stop talking, however, describing his extensive merits as a mage and the importance of the research he was conducting. At the end of the monologue, he let out a long sigh.
-If only I could understand the silence of the Gods. Why is it that Lúcia removed the sun from Eternal Dawn? Have we somehow angered her? - he looked at the woman and sighed again.
He led her inside a hollow tree, its space big enough to accommodate both. Carved on the walls, an arrangement of words, numbers and unknown symbols; etched on the base root, multiple straight lines at three different angles, huddled together and sometimes crossed. On the corner laid a stool-shaped tree root, which the man dragged and sat on, at his side two twigs stuck to the ground, another on top; a bowl hung between it, full of round cap mushrooms, water, and a black drumstick.
-Sorry about the mess, I wasn’t expecting visitors – he said nonchalantly.
Clapping his hands twice, he slid one palm on another and a spark flew to the chinks of wood beneath the bowl, lighting a fire.
-Are you hungry? Well I’m starving... It’s difficult to find something edible around here.
The woman tilted her head, looking around the tree’s hollow; there were many worms and insects around, and, in the swamp, abundant mushrooms, wild plants, and bloodsuckers.
-We can’t keep the fire for long, or those damnable chickens will appear... - he stirred the bowl and scooped some of the soup, frowning after a short sniff.
He didn’t speak much after that, they had a silent meal; his expression was indifferent all the while, hers was jubilant, grinning so much the corner of her lips could reach to the ears.
-Say, I might be seeing it wrong, but your pink skin with faint green stripes... Are you perhaps a líber?
The woman smiled and nodded energetically, but mid-way her smile stiffened, and the light on her eyes, reflected by the fire, dimmed.
-It’s a pity you can’t talk, I could’ve asked you about the issue with the Gods... Oh, can you write?
She pressed her lips together and slowly shook her head, deflated.
-A pity – he sighed and looked up – right... I happen to need a small hand on my research. If you help me, I can do something for you, how about it?
The woman nodded slightly and pointed at the fire.
-You want to make fire? Sure! It’s a deal then – as he finished speaking, a rhythmical popping reached the tree, leaving the sound of dripping water on the wake – oh, they’re here, I better clear the fire. By the way, my name is Sadros; we’ll talk more later, I want to rest a little.
Saying so, he stepped on the embers and tucked himself on a corner, covered with a cape, using his hands as a pillow.
The woman waited until he fell asleep, holding the charred tome. The book painted an acolyte, wearing a cape and holding a fireball with his hands, the clothes similar to the man; on his chest, two conscripted triangles, one upside-down and merging with the other to form an hourglass.
Follower of the Three: A scholar hailing from the Skybridge Tower of Vainevel. Humans may believe in all Gods and Devils, but rarely follow more than one; an exception is time, space, and chaos, the original three. Their followers were almost exclusively magicians and scientists, who thought chaos to be the primal source of energy, capable of creation, destruction, and manipulation; time and space were comprehended by a rare few, their knowledge shallow.
Her face distorted greatly, eyebrow raised, slightly wrinkled nose, and one pulled up corner of the mouth. She shook her head many times before finding her own space, hugging her thighs and closing her eyes.
