Ciel looked abashed, mortified that he had injured the old man. And when he remembered how he had fumbled on the wall looking for a switch or secret mechanism to open it, his face turned green. Was it possible for him to kill himself now?

“I normally don’t feel anything but you had to use magic, didn’t you?”

Ciel looked up, internally breathing a sigh of relief. He really did not know how he would look the old man in the eye if he had felt all the groping that Ciel did previously. He gave a weak cough and looked at the hermit.

“My sincerest apologies, elder. May I know how I should address you?” He gave a very low bow, both in respect and in repentance for his unthinking actions. The old man looked long and hard at Ciel, still in a low bow before giving a humph of dissatisfaction.

“You’re lucky it was only a small scratch. Call me Liath. I watch the sealed doors of the abandoned worlds.”

Ciel fnally looked up at the elderly guardian. He definitely looked the part. Ciel was thankful that he had carved a 'C' on the wall. He could not imagine how a ‘B’ or ‘K’ might have ruined his looks and how much trouble he would have been in then.

“Don’t think about it too much, it will heal. Your father carved his initials on my forehead too, once… like father like son…” he grumbled.

Ciel paused. Afraid to imagine the sight. “You know my father?”

“His club is directly over the broken sky gates. Of course we know each other.”

That was true. Nothing happens here without his father knowing.

“But why did you lead me here?”

“Do you remember how you came to the passageway?”

“I was knocked out. And when I came to, I was already inside.”

“The man who knocked you out is a refugee from a world of broken sky. I asked him to lead someone here.”

Ciel’s eyes widened. Refugees from worlds of broken skies? It was better he supposed, rather than to let them die in their own abandoned worlds. But did his father know of these people?

“There is normally a barrier. They cannot enter the club and those from the club cannot come here. You have your father’s blood so as heir to the club you can enter all of its domains.” Ciel did not bother to wonder if Liath was reading his mind. As his father's son, he got used to it.

But this was all news to him. Ciel’s mind was whirling from all the new information that he was receiving. A separate zone under the club with portals that led to abandoned worlds and there were refugees from those worlds living here as well. “I think I need a drink…” he muttered to himself, his fingers gently massaging his temple.

“Your father also said the same thing when he first met me. You’re just like your father.” Liath gave a small smile in reminiscence of Gin when he looked at his frown. “Come. I have things I need to discuss with you.” He turned and walked down another passageway. Ciel had no choice but to follow.

The passageway was low and narrow like the first one he had gone down. The only difference was that there was no wall herding them from behind like a sheepdog. Ciel might have looked for a rolled up newspaper if that had been the case. The closely following wall earlier had made him feel uncomfortable and he had resisted the urge to run when the wall had bumped into him several times. Maybe it was Liath’s way of getting back at him but it was still unpleasant, a little like when the person behind you keeps stepping on the back of your shoe.

They came to the end of the passageway and Ciel found himself in a tiny shanty town in another circular chamber. He was hard pressed not to call it a slum, looking at the crazy shacks built and perched on top and against each other. There were no frescoes at the top of this arched roof but maybe the soot from the many fires had coated them, he couldn’t tell. The dwellers of that little town was as varied as the staff of Sanctuary; humans with hair colours in all shades of the rainbow, beastmen, elves, dwarves… but they did not look like they came from mythology. Not the ones he recognized anyway. They wore worn and faded clothes, looking clean but a little thin; all performing various daily life activities. There were even children playing and chasing each other about.

“What are you in a daze for? Keep up.” Liath’s voice reminded Ciel that he had been following the old man before he became riveted by the town. Cutting across the crude village, Ciel could see people raising their heads to look at him before they returned to what they were doing; strangers were nothing new here. A few lefts and rights later, they came to another stone passageway. This time closed with a door. The door opened to greet Liath, who stepped in without a second glance. Ciel followed a little more tentatively, still wary of sudden attacks.

The other side of the door revealed a study with an extremely messy table, papers, parchments and quills strewn all over it. On the floor was more of the same, as well as books stacked in a haphazard manner, threatening to topple over, just like the shacks outside the room. Bookshelves lined most of the walls, and where there wasn’t any, there were charts and maps that he could not understand. In an area partitioned by bookshelves, Ciel could see part of an unmade bed in a raised alcove, partially hidden by dirty curtains. Ciel suspected that the area behind those bookshelves was where Liath did his cooking and ablutions. If Ciel had a word for the place it would be: dump. It was fine if the study area had been messy; he believed in disorganized geniuses. But even the sheets on the bed looked grey and grubby and there was a faint sour smell that made the normally clean and neat Ciel feel uneasy. He did his best to keep his face neutral as he watched the old man lean his staff against one of the many bookshelves before he unceremoniously picked up the books and documents that were on one of the two chairs in the room and drop them on the floor, scattering the papers.

“Have a seat then.” He turned around and looked at Ciel, motioning for him to sit on the now empty chair. “Can I offer you something to drink?” he walked towards the other side of the shelves.

“No thank you!” he wasn’t sure he would be able to swallow anything without gagging.

The older man looked at him before sitting down in the other chair. “Your father was just as hasty too, when I offered.”

Ciel could only give him a weak smile. If there was no choice, he would swallow his reservations and accept; but should he be given the choice, Ciel would rather eat anything the residents of the town outside offered than to drink anything prepared in here.

Liath stared at him for a long while and he was starting to feel awkward on top of being guilty. The old man’s shoulders were shivering and he suddenly gave a long, loud laugh. He waved his hand and the slight stench disappeared. The curtains in the alcove turned a dark blue and the sheets on the bed were white. The gloomy lights in the room brightened and it felt more cosy. The study area however, remained as it was.

“All, right. I’ll stop teasing you. You really are Gin’s son.” He wiped the tears of mirth that had gathered in his eyes.

Ciel couldn’t believe he had been tricked and his mouth was dropped in an inelegant ‘O’. Liath looked at him and his voice softened. “But that, that reaction is from your mother.”

So both his parents have been here before. He understood of course. If his father realized he had been tricked, he would either give a helpless smile or his mouth would be nothing more than a thin line of anger. His father still had the prideful, arrogant bearing of a dragon prince, even if he did not use it on his family. Thankfully, neither he nor Dawn had pushed his buttons to the limit yet. He closed his gaping mouth and looked at Liath, hoping for answers.

“This is Undertown, one of the few places that take in refugees from abandoned worlds. If your father offers sanctuary for those myths that have no place to go or just need a break, I offer refuge to those who have lost their worlds. Gin watches the living realms and I watch the dead ones.”

“There doesn’t seem to be that many refugees…”

“Undertown is only temporary. Gin, Scarlet and the other guardians try to find worlds that are similar to the ones that have been lost and send them there. But when a world is abandoned, it’s normally because the disaster was too severe…”

Meaning there had been too many casualties and the Arnitikós had mostly taken over that world. The refugees would not have been many in the first place. Ciel felt heartsick over the suffering that these people had suffered and overcome. To watch your home be destroyed, your loved ones be driven to ruin from all the negative emotions… until finally the watchers and guardians can help you no more and even the sun and moon be unable to rise and set like it was supposed to.

“There are those who are unable to adapt as well and they sometimes choose to return home to die… or those that had resolved to never leave in the first place. We cannot fathom the hearts of the living.” It was the faraway voice of a person who had experienced too many things.

“How long has Undertown been here?”

“Much longer than Sanctuary. The previous guardian of the living doors was a little uncaring and did not really bother who came or left, only stopping the shadow creatures from passing. Your father decided to make a proper haven for the magical after he took over. Of course he had to get my permission so he made his way down here to seek me out. He had been surprised by the number of worlds, both living and dead. Anyway, we came to an agreement. I sometimes go up and share a drink with him.”

“But why don’t I ever see people from other worlds at the club?”

“Your father can only welcome those from his own realm. The other entrances are still there, but they are policed by other watchers. Only I alone watch all the dead worlds.”

“There must be a lot of them.”

“Every book you see here is the story of an abandoned world.”

Ciel gaped and looked at the books both strewn and stacked on the floor, stuffed randomly into the shelves; there were hundreds of them! Were there that many realms that have lost hope?

“It is my job to archive these worlds. We need to know, to remember… so that we don’t repeat ourselves. Alas, we are all inflicted with insanity…”

There was tiredness and self-deprecation in that voice. Seeing the same thing happen over and over again would have that effect on most beings.

“But there are a few, though," Liath's voice softly interjected into Ciel's thoughts. "where their denizens have not lost hope. Have not given up their faith. So they fight and find a way. They will tell you that the shadows are there because there is light. And as long as there is light, they fight, despite the broken sky and dwindling magic. You could say that it’s a wonderful, heart-warming and motivating story. I look forward to tales like those.”

Liath had not lost hope either. For the sake of a good story, he gladly endured a hundred tragic ones. He was a watcher, a historian, a dreamer. For all the years on him, his faith was as pure and innocent as a child’s. He slowly came out of his daydream and looked at Ciel.

“Right. The reason I asked someone from Sanctuary to come is because not long ago, I sensed a living person in one of the abandoned worlds. It seemed like he came from the club.”