Basement and Lava

Down and down they went, the surrounding area blacker than black, only the light of Emio’s eye providing any clue as to the world around them.

Like everywhere else in the ruin, the walls were ornate and intricate, carvings cut deep into the rock providing visual variety to the otherwise stark environment.

Looking closer, Wanderer found that unlike the walls above, the carvings below were not the same weaving, geometric patterns which the Golem had seen plastered on every Orshraka made object thus far.

They instead depicted stories, with monsters and people depicted in blocky forms that, despite its limitations, still managed to display the muse’s true nature.

Wanderer’s mind was still in turmoil, but curiosity and adventure were the core of their being and no matter their mistakes, that could never be taken away from them.

As the Vessel went further into the basement of the ruin, they kept their vision on the stories in the walls, yet despite their best effort they couldn't work out what they were trying to say.

In all the stories, a pattern began to emerge, a ruler lorded over a peaceful land before an enemy came from the sky and broke their kingdom, placing an insurgent in in its place.

Again and again the same story repeated, sometimes humans were taken over by a ruler of beasts, other times a nation of Spirits was overthrown by a malevolent God.

But no matter what details changed from scene to scene, the story remained the same, ruler, enemies, dictator.

Eventually, after heading downwards for some time, the deep red rock of the ruins gave way, instead being replaced by a paler, softer sandstone.

The intricate carvings disappeared as well, as the original creators apparently did not have the time to finish the shaft all the way down, instead leaving a wake of uneven stone steps and hand hewn walls.

Wanderer paused for a second, calling upon their slowly lessening fear to try and hear for the faintest echo of the snaps and pops that the swarmlings employed.

Yet no matter how much they strained, no evidence of the centipedal monsters could be heard.

In their mind's eye, they remembered the deafening roar the ravenous creatures procured with their mere existence, if there was scilence, then they were safe.

Wanderer’s suspicion was, much to their enjoyment false, there was almost certainly no swarmlings in the tunnel.

“But what killed all those people then”, the Golem wondered.

To be sure, the Vessel listened intently once again, yet while they heard nothing, they realised something else.

The air around them was rather hot, almost certainly hotter than the rest of the ruin up further, and far hotter than anything this deep underground had the right to be.

“How hadn't I noticed?”, the Golem questioned.

That, in hindsight was an obvious question, they had been distracted, confused by their own experiences as they so often were, blinding them to the truth of the world around them.

Wanderer stopped and sat on one of the sets of stairs, confusing Emio who was under the impression that they had to keep moving to avoid more pursuers.

Indeed, the verdestry may have very well been correct in that assumption, it was doubtful that their pursuers would give up and they could still track the Golem to wherever they ended up going.

But the little monster had done a number on them, shown the warriors that the trio was not a threat to be trifled with, and for that they would need reinforcements.

And that would take time.

And so, the Vessel sat on the stairs, determined to sort out their thoughts and restore their awareness lest they miss a more important detail, one which could lead to their demise.

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Wanderer began with Emio’s brutality, an action which went against their oath so severely that no matter how they tried, they could not justify it to themself.

Certainly, it was not Wanderer who had attacked the commander and the attack was more than deserved.

But the Golem knew this was all just excuses, they were responsible for Emio, it was their job to guide them.

As the Vessel struggled with their thoughts and contemplated their actions, their Spirit spoke up once again, providing guidance as they often did.

Emio was their friend, their companion, but they were also their own person and capable of their own choices.

What the verdestry had chosen to do was not only done out of concern for Wanderer, but was also undoubtedly their own decision, indeed, without the Golem’s guidance such an outcome would undoubtedly have happened far earlier.

“But if I had not hesitated, if I had used the flare-bow to drive them back, this never would have happened.” Wanderer insisted.

Their Spirit agreed, yet stressed that the Golem had no way to know the future, and that imperfection was inevitable when any decision was made.

What has happened has happened, regretting your actions leads to nothing if you did not move forward and learn from them.

Wanderer saw the logic in their guide’s argument and resolved to learn from their mistake, coming to the realisation that Emio, despite their respect for the Vessel’s wishes, was still a incredibly deadly monster who could kill as easily as they could save.

“I need to be more careful” they resolved.

Before, they had thrown themselves into danger, even their best plans involving risk and luck to get by.

In the end, their willingness to put themselves in jeopardy was likely due to Emio’s prior interference, afterall, what can hurt you when you have an invincible warrior as your companion.

Today had shown the flaw in that thinking, Emio could never truly be controlled, especially when Wanderer’s life was at risk.

Yet on the topic of danger, the Golem once again thought over their current situation, an unknowable distance below the earth with an unknown danger surrounding them.

Already they regretted their decision, yet they had put themself in a situation where there was no turning back, they could do nothing but be careful and try not to block themselves in again.

Besides, their worst fear had already been dismissed, and there was little chance that whatever threat was down here was any worse than swarmlings.

Wanderer stood back up, and continued their descent, their mind as cleared as it could be considering recent events.

In truth however, the Vessel still felt crushed by their mistakes, both new and old.

They needed a time and a place to just rest, without any worry of death or slavery or pain.

Perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

But no matter its future possibility, that was a consideration for a later time, for now the Vessel focused on their exploration.

Now that Wanderer had made note of it, the heat in the air was beginning to grow irritating, still nothing like the full heat of the sun in the deserts above yet more than enough to be a nuisance on the Vessel’s continued travel.

They were really hoping that they wouldn't regret giving away the music box.

Only a short while later, the crude sandstone stairs evened out rapidly. Coming out to a wide hall which circled into a loop, surrounding some centre subterranean structure.

Only two steps into the chamber, Wanderer was shocked to find the feeling of something soft underneath their hooves.

They knelt down and found a type of dry moss covering a patch of the floor, long dead and withered yet perplexing in its existence.

“Where is the water?”, Wanderer thought, as they were quite certain that such plants required water.

They continued on through the passage, finding a few more oddities along the way.

The first was the presence of glassy imperfections in, and sometimes jutting out, of the walls, the reflective stone sometimes flowing down to the floor, despite its obvious rigidity.

Where the obsidian flowed from the walls and touched the floor, something of a change came over the material, as it became filled to the brim with cracks and faults, as if something had once covered the floor and broke it.

“Is this lava?” the Golem thought, seeing it the only explanation for the obsidian's shape.

Further down, past where much of the imperfections hung down from the walls and ceiling, rested a pair of massive stone doors.

They were formed of the red stone of the ruin above and engraved equally as beautifully, contrasting harshly with the crude yellow walls around it, causing it to draw the Vessel’s gaze even in the darkness.

On the front of the door was engraved a massive oasis, blessed by the sun, surrounded by healthy beasts the size of buildings and joyful children dancing around sandy shores.

The depiction was so contrasting to every other story of doom and gloom the Golem had seen cut into stone that they nearly took a step back in shock, never expecting something so blatantly jovial in a place so ancient and dark.

They took a decent while just inspecting the relief, nearly forgetting in their viewing that this was a pair of doors, intending to be opened and not just an artwork.

When they did finally realise, hurried on by Emio as they were, they threw open the door, hoping to find more clues as to the origins of this place on the other side.

Perhaps if they had been a little slower, they would have noticed the heat seeping through the stone, but as it was, the moment Wanderer opened the door, they were greeted by a blast of superheated steam.