Seth: “Maxentius, here’s what you’re looking for. Handle it carefully, it’s very old.” 

The priest took my advice and cradled the old scrap of parchment, squinting to make sense of its significance. When he did, his jaw actually dropped. 

Maxentius: “But… this is…” 

Seth: “That treatise, thought to have been signed by Yreth Itself centuries ago, lists the divine rights by which warfare can and cannot be conducted with Its favor. If the church can verify it as genuine, you should have an actual shot at ending those conflicts before they begin.” 

Everyone looked impressed, and Maxentius was grinning from ear to ear. Alsatia laughed.

Alsatia: “That’s the most emotion Max here has shown since I’ve known him!” 

Orchid gave me a high five and Sai bowed low. Farther down the path, Maeve nodded, and her eyes closed as she turned away. She seemed to think I was going to let Maxentius and the others carry me off now. I jogged over to her.

Seth: “Well, shall we? I’ve got a pretty good idea of where to start, but we’re going to have to work out the details as we go.”

Xenna cocked her head at my words, Wolfgang slapped me on the back (nearly barrelling me over) and Zyturak’s amused expression suggested he somehow anticipated this. Maeve masked her surprise, speaking needlessly loudly so the other group could hear us.

Maeve: “Of course! After all, it’s not every day someone who can actually see the big picture comes along. Come on Seth, let’s go save the world!”

Although her showmanship was in poor taste, I had to suppress my laughter as I waved to Max, Orchid, Alsatia and Sai, some of whom offered confused goodbyes. As soon as we were out of earshot, however, Maeve rounded on me, the full force of her intensity smouldering through her smoky eyes.

Maeve: “Alright, what is this about?”

Seth: “Huh?”

Maeve: “You had a thankful Yreth priest escort to whom you’d just given the holy grail all ready to go, and yet you decided to follow the cultist, wildman, mystic, and mind reader?”

So that’s what Zyturak is? I’m equal parts amazed and concerned. Then again I guess my mind would be as boring as the dusty old library I just escaped anyway.

Seth: “I sure did!” 

I enjoyed the near sputtering confusion on her face for a moment more before elaborating. 

Seth: “Well for starters, you’re not a normal Bedlam cultist. I don’t know how much refinement they’ve had over the years, but the texts I read precluded them from anything but dismembering non-members. Even Maxentius let you go, so you’re absolutely fine.” 

She looked away quickly. Was she blushing?

Seth: “And Wolfgang’s got tree trunks for arms, but I can tell he’s a simple guy, no offense. Live off the land, and harmony with nature. I think that’s beautiful. We even had some encyclopedias about the primalist tribes, and as far as actually making it any distance on foot, I want this guy in my corner.” 

I was worried I was going to get another hearty slap on the back, but the giant of a man mercifully elected to beam at me instead. 

Seth: “Xenna’s clearly an expert on aether, and we’re desperately going to need that particular area of expertise for this expedition. I’ve known her an hour and even I can tell she’s obsessive about her work, but she’s definitely a wallflower. I don’t think she’s ever hurt anyone in her entire life.” 

Xenna continued to stare at the ground in embarrassment. Nailed it.

Seth: “Lastly - seriously? You can read minds?”

Zyturak laughed. 

Zyturak: “Not exactly. I can sense emotions that lie beneath the surface, and with enough concentration I may be able to visit a memory linked to a particularly strong emotion… but digging around for secrets is quite outside my expertise.”

Seth: “Still, that makes you pretty intuitive. I could see the way you were looking out for everybody while they readied my escape. What were you doing, funneling stress around or something like that?” 

He smiled mysteriously.

Zyturak: “You’re rather intuitive yourself. For what it’s worth I’m glad you cast your lot with us, not that I ever doubted you.”

Seth: “Well… thanks. You know, for having me I guess. I don’t exactly have a lot of experience with people.” 

Before I got too mushy, it was time to get a sense of the situation. I gestured forward, and Maeve started to lead us away from my former prison. No wonder I had so few visitors. The place was built into the face of a mountain, with only a couple of thin paths leading up to it. As we walked, I asked my questions.

Seth: “So, what can you all tell me about this shadowy figure who may or may not be orchestrating chaos across all of Arden?” 

The group looked to Maeve, who scratched her neck sheepishly. 

Maeve: “Okay, uh… Stay with me here. The Denizens of Bedlam, they… speak to me. And yes, I know how that sounds. But sometimes I can make out their whispers, and it usually means something historic is about to happen.” 

The aliens from a hypothetical plane of existence whisper sweet nothings in her ear, do they? I try my best to roll with that craziness. 

Seth: “Right! So. What did they say?”

Maeve: “That Yreth’s children were not long for this world. That Arden and Bedlam were going to be twisted together for the amusement of The Architect... and it was those very same whispers that led me to you.”

Seth: “That’s suitably cryptic.” 

Despite my reaction I was already piecing the clues together. Even so, I could always use more information. 

Seth: “Does that mean anything to the rest of you?” 

Xenna looked up slightly from the spot on the ground she’d kept her gaze fixed on. 

Xenna: “N-Not exactly. But aetheric flow has been shifting at an unprecedented rate within the last six months. I think I’ve isolated the source to-”

Seth: “The Ardenscar.”  

An ancient rift in space and time, the origin and purpose of which no two legends could agree. She nodded in surprise. I looked to our resident primalist. 

Seth: “Wolfgang?”

Wolfgang: “It has always been that the Ardenscar exists as a cancer that all nature abhors. Its fell influence warps the very land around it. This corruption reaches farther than ever before, especially within the last half year, as Xenna suggests.” 

Seth: “Zyturak?”

Zyturak: “During my travels before meeting this fine present company, I have occasionally felt something entirely alien in the emotions of people - though I have yet to discern what, precisely, I’m sensing. They still think and feel as any other person, but there is something subtle at play as well. It seems more likely to affect the higher class than common folk. The only other pattern is… the closer to the Ardenscar, the greater the number of cases.”

This was a lot more information than I was expecting, but it definitely confirmed my suspicions. 

Seth: “Well then. Nobody comes back from the Ardenscar. Hell, I doubt anyone’s ever been crazy enough to try. But if we’re going to do the impossible, I think I know where to start.” 

Maeve looked at me with a complicated expression.

Maeve: “Hold on, how did you already know all this? We’ve only been lucky enough to figure out this much between us by investigating for years.” 

She crossed her arms in a huff, all but muttering her next words. 

Maeve: “Into the Ardenscar, honestly. You may as well ask us to jump into the maw of a dragon.”

Seth: “I spent two decades with nothing to do but read ancient books, remember? Look, I understand your doubt, and I’m not saying we should approach this unprepared and without a conversation first. But is it really such a crazy conclusion when you got this mission from alien gods in the first place? Xenna’s invisible lines all lead to the Ardenscar, Wolfgang heard the animals say they’re migrating away from it, and Zyturak thinks the people closest to it are having their emotions toyed with. I’d say if that’s what we’re going off of, it’s at least worth considering the possibility.” 

Maeve stared me down hard, searching my expression for a while. Surprisingly, she was the first to look away. Then she sighed, and when she spoke her voice was full of resignation.

Maeve: “Well, it’s somewhere to start, at least. What exactly do you suggest?”

Seth: “There are a lot of stories and legends regarding the Ardenscar. It’s existed as long as recorded history, and a lot of the accounts are simple creation myths or superstitious musings, so there isn’t much more I can say about it with any confidence. Luckily, my archives also had information about the Cenotaph, and what they were capable of. Let’s just say if anyone can actually survive in that hell, it’s a Cenotaph.”

Xenna’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. Maeve was shocked and even Zyturak looked surprised. Wolfgang showed no reaction - perhaps Ptarmigan knew little of the Cenotaph. Xenna suddenly spoke up in nothing like the quiet, mousy voice I had heard her speak with until now.

Xenna: “The Cenotaph? You think there’s a living specimen!?” 

She was practically wringing her hands, but Zyturak had already regained his composure.

Zyturak: “The Cenotaph Interface in your archives was one thing, but to say its creators still exist themselves is quite another. I’m not sure if you’re fully aware of this given how old most of your tomes are, but the Cenotaph are considered extinct in modern academia. I thought you said as much yourself when we were testing you...”

Seth: “Don’t worry, I'm aware. Regardless, it fits - Only the Cenotaph would have the ability to survive in the Ardenscar for any amount of time, thanks to their incredibly powerful Soul magic. Indefinitely, with their advanced technology to supplement it. The fact that they’re no longer on Arden doesn’t mean they couldn’t now be in the Scar, and it would explain why all these strange happenings seem to be centered around it all of a sudden.”

Wolfgang: “Well, so what if the ancients may hide in the Scar? If only they are able to survive there, we could not follow them even if we wanted to.”

Seth: “Ah, but there’s more to the legends. I’ve had enough free time to cross-reference the entire archives, and I theorize that three of these legends are actually based in truth; that there are three artifacts that can grant one the power of the Cenotaph - The Key, The Anchor, and The Nail. Among other things, The Key should be able to codify the rift’s energy and open it like a door, allowing us to approach the Ardenscar and enter unharmed. And the best part is, it should be nearby - among the desert ruins of Xindelle.” 

The group took some time to consider my words. It definitely sounded like a bunch of nonsense without the context (and thousands of hours of reading) that I had, but I stood by everything I’d said.

Zyturak: “And what of the other two?” 

Sounded like he was cautiously optimistic. That would definitely help convince the others.

Seth: “The Anchor should be able to stabilize and nullify the chaotic energy of the Scar, allowing us to stay alive after we actually enter. The Nail... can kill Cenotaph.” 

There wasn’t any reason to sugarcoat it. We all knew if my theory was correct that we’d have to contend with at least one Cenotaph. 

In the legends of old, humans had waged war against a handful of them, dying by scores to the Cenotaph’s immensely powerful yet self-destructive Soul magic, eventually wearing out their supply of it at the cost of innumerable lives. And even then, they had Yreth battling at their side. We didn’t have a god, but apparently this ‘Nail’ could tip the scales in our favour.

Everyone looked to Maeve, who had been watching the setting sun as she considered my words. 

Maeve: “When we get to the base of the mountain we’ll set up camp. The next morning, we’ll head for Xindelle and investigate this ‘Key’ for ourselves. If we like what we see, we’ll confirm the details of the rest of the plan.”

With that, everyone fell into a contemplative silence. To be honest, I couldn’t believe they trusted my opinion this much. Maybe they were just that stuck for a lead, or maybe the fact that I hadn’t already made a break for it had convinced them that I knew what I was talking about. Sure, I could have abandoned them and lived out my freedom in a more traditional sense, but as it happens, world-ending prophecy is a real kill-joy. 

Not only that, it felt… nice. To be near people, and to be depended upon. Given my very brief history with others, I wasn’t planning on getting too attached and then thrown away again, but I definitely wasn’t about to rush back into solitary confinement either.

Before long we reached the end of the mountain path and decided to set up camp near the edge of a nearby forest for cover. Wolfgang seemed to speak to the trees, crossing this way and that to collect as much dead, dry wood as possible for a fire. I could see him about fifteen meters away, laughing loudly and holding the trunk of a large tree for balance as if it had just told the most incredible joke. 

Maeve appeared to be taking inventory of our supplies, bathed in the eerie glow of the moon and whispering quietly to herself. 

Zyturak was setting up the tents, of which there were three (apparently Wolfgang preferred to sleep under the stars), and he sang a beautiful melody in another language as he worked. 

Xenna seemed to be scrawling something in a rugged journal by the fiery light of her aether orb, occasionally tapping her lips with her quill in between bouts of furious writing.

I wanted to contribute to the camp, and thinking about who to approach, I found myself drawn to…