Defiance and Entrance

As quick as the tiredness hit the Golem, it left, the Spirit having restored their connection to the Vessel's magic-deprived soul.

Yet Wanderer hardly even noticed, much too consumed in the infinite number of questions and revelations that had just sprouted in their mind.

“What is a god”, they found themselves asking, more for their own mind than anything else, not truly expecting a reply from their Spirit.

But, to their surprise, their Spirit replied.

In the moments since Wanderer had scared them out of their panicked state, they had rapidly calmed down with a speed the Vessel could hardly imagine.

Their previous worries had been diluted to a subtle trace, only barely detectable in their messages, instead placed with a concern for their friend.

It was an odd feeling for the Golem, seeing just how fast their guide could flip their emotions, it was a mastery that Wanderer could only hope to achieve.

The Vessel suddenly realised that their Spirit had been trying to talk to them, yet they had gotten carried away on the whims of a distracted mind.

A flash of irritation shot through the guide at the inattentiveness of their friend when they were trying to communicate something so important, yet they quickly calmed and explained again.

Images flashed of a different world, one built on the back of magic and runes, alien and wonderful all the same.

It was the Spirit realm, their guide’s home, the world they explored before this one.

There were other Spirits, of knowledge, anger, flight, pain and an uncountable number of other kinds, but none aligning to quite the same cause as their guide.

The Golem concentrated as their Spirit regaled their life of wandering the endless tides of magic, tides that were inherently tied to the physical realm but would never intersect.

The Spirit spoke of those, however, who grew so engorged of their concept that the tides of magic alone could not hold them, and in feat of monumental power, broke the barrier between spiritual and physical.

That is what a god is, a Spirit so powerful that they take physical form, so powerful they gain a name, so powerful that they can absorb other Spirits to become even greater.

Suddenly, Wanderer understood their Spirit’s fear and panic, to have the full attention of a possibly hostile god upon them, hoping beyond hope that they would not become their next meal.

This put a bolt of fear into the Golem as well, for just the moment that they had disconnected their Spirit they had lost almost all energy, if their Spirit were to be permanently removed, not only would they lose a friend, but they would likely lose their life as well.

Wanderer hugged the wall a little tighter, making absolutely sure they were out of view of the god.

“But there are so many cities, why would the god be at this one?”, surely such a powerful being would be at the biggest city of them all.

Their Spirit quickly corrected their mistake, the god’s physical form wasn't in the tower, rather, a human who had been given power by the god brought the Golem to their attention.

The fear Wanderer felt raised once again, “how many of these people are there?” the Vessel questioned.

The guide didn't know for certain, such things were secret even to them, but if they had to take a guess, there was likely one for each city in the black desert.

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At the advent of this news, Wanderer’s determination to explore the shimmering citadels, in search of information and books, wavered.

If at each of these places, an envoy of a hostile god waited, then the walled settlements could be far more dangerous than the Vessel could have possibly expected.

Their Spirit agreed, emphasising that there was no way to learn any information if they were, in fact, dead.

“Yet we are right here, so close to exploring what's inside, we just have to be careful to not get caught in the follower's gaze.”, the Vessel contemplated, previous trepidation beginning to disappear.

Their Spirit, however, was firmly against the idea, fiercely rebuking any attempt at entering the city.

But, for one of the first times in their life, the Golem found their guide’s advice to unhelpful, a notion further compounded by the realisation that sprung into their head moments later.

“If this god is so powerful, and had such a hold over you, why then did it not eat you, right then and there”, Wanderer questioned.

And to their surprise, their guide could not answer them, responding with nothing but warnings and restrictions, to stay out of sight.

Curious and slightly spiteful at being told what to do, Wanderer sat a curious Emio down on the floor, and, despite the screamed warnings of danger from their Spirit, stepped out from cover and into sight.

The duo stood in stillness for a long, long moment, one silenced by anticipation and the other by fear, before they both released their stress and calmed down.

The terrifying feeling of struggle that accompanied the eldritch gaze did not come, no feeling of horror or fear met gratification.

The god didn't care.

A feeling of joy welled up in the Vessel’s soul, stirred on by the relief that they were right in their assumption.

They picked up a brisk pace as the aurora danced around their thighs, scooping up Emio and trying to ignore the uneasy acceptance that emanated from their now-silent guide.

Wanderer's plan of entering the city now set in stone, they made their way around the city walls, hoping to find some breach or entrance they could abuse to enter.

They found, peculiarly, that as they got further and further from the gate, the wall and its intricate carvings began to grow more and more dilapidated.

It began with just a minor nick in the geometric carvings or an area where the gold shimmer of the wall had tarnished a little to a darker orange-brown, but quickly it progressed to entire cracks in the cladding, revealing the dark stone beneath.

Yet despite its growing disrepair, the wall was firm, no breaches occurred in its construction and no cracks were wide enough to climb up.

As Wanderer went further and further around the wall, their soul sank further and further in their chest, sad that perhaps they may not enter the city after all if no opportunity presented itself.

Just as they began to lament in their misfortune, their Spirit perked up that perhaps they need not risk the god’s gaze, as peculiar sight far into the fog caught their vision.

Head only barely standing above the swirling aurora, a dark-skinned woman was slowly following a rope across the desert, with a blindfold across their eyes.

The Vessel watched on in confusion as the woman continued to follow the path set by the rope amongst the waves of dazzling light, their blindness causing them to often stumble and fall on some of the more uneven sand.

Figuring the risk of being seen quite low, considering the obstruction to the human’s vision, Wanderer began to approach the scene with a degree of caution and stealth, steadily gaining on the slow-moving woman.

As the Golem got closer, the human’s unfortunate occupation became obvious, judging by their tattered clothes and frequent scars, they were a slave.

Around their neck and wrists were harsh red abrasions where they had once been restricted, then recently freed, a freedom that was similarly conveyed by the desperation of their movements.

Because the Golem quickly realised what was happening, the former slave was escaping, leaving the city with no intention to return.

A bolt of joy welled in the Vessel’s soul as they realised this, its ramifications pronouncing that there were some indeed who were not broken by slavery, who wished to escape the cruelty they were subjected to.

It meant there were people that Wanderer could help and others who had the same intentions as the Golem, if the tunnel that the long rope in the desert led to was any indication.

The Vessel silently followed the unaware human, watching over them to make certain that they reached their destination in safety, only taking their eyes off of them when they had disappeared down the dark tunnel at the end of the rope and were far out of view.

Part of Wanderer wished to follow, but they were certain that if one end of the rope held an exit, the other end would hold an entrance, and there was far more the Vessel could do for people inside the city than outside it.

They still did not know how they would hide their appearance from those inside the citadel, nor that of their herbal friend, but they had a good feeling that perhaps the people that were smuggling out the slaves might feel differently about the Vessel's Golemic nature, especially if they aimed to help.

And so, with a hopeful heart, Wanderer began to follow the trail through the light-covered desert, hoping to find a secret entrance to the impenetrable city.