Rubble and Memorial

Wanderer sprinted up the last flight of lava-covered stairs and came out to a collection of halls and rooms identical to the section where the rebels once lived.

“I wonder if the ruin travels the whole way around the centre.” the Golem considered.

The previous inhabitants of the desert did have a love for circles, so it was entirely possible.

While there was likely still a wealth of things of interest in the ruins, Wanderer simply didn't have the energy to inspect them all.

Them and Emio both needed a good, long rest, and neither of them could get that in the ruins with how much had happened there.

Besides, the whole place was dark and unstable, it would be nice to be under the sun again.

After a few moments longer of sprinting up pathways and ramps, Wanderer reached the little breach to the surface they had seen from far away, Emio already waiting for them in the sun’s light.

The opening seemed at one point to be a grand, ceremonial entrance with a massive hall and even larger arched doorway leading to the outside.

On each side, ten geometric statues stood proud, each one depicting a master of a different trade from the civilisation long left behind.

But now, the whole room was smothered in glassy, black sand, pouring in from the entrance and windows, leaving only the slightest gap at the very top of the archway.

It was a little sad seeing a place once so grand succumb to time, though the same could be said of all of the ruin.

Nonetheless, Wanderer was infinitely glad the complex’s creators had gone to such effort to build a place so excessive, if the arch wasn't so incredibly high and over the top then it would have likely never reached the surface and there would have been no way up.

Scrambling over the dune and squeezing through the gap, the Vessel finally made their way into the open world above, feeling the morning sun’s heat on their clay skin after so long underground.

At the current moment, it was still early enough in the morning that the sun’s heat was bearable, that being said, the sand was still incredibly hot and would undoubtedly be unbearably so in a matter of minutes.

Despite the impending doom, Wanderer scrambled on top of the sand covered ruin to try and get a better view of the world around them and regain their bearings.

The golden walls of the city were now far behind them, apparently having travelled further underground than they had thought.

In opposition, the boneyard was now well within reach, likely only day’s travel away, or nights Wanderer supposed, they didn't have the music box to protect them from the heat anymore.

To their left, conveniently close, was a towering mesa at least double the size of the one they had travelled to at the start of their journey into the desert.

Unlike other pinnacles, it lacked many of the golden veins of ore that they all mutually seemed to possess, and for good reason too, as all across it were human-made scaffolds accompanied by the mutual signs of mining, ropes, pickaxes, baskets of debris and such.

In truth, Wanderer would prefer not to go anywhere near another human for a long while, needing time just to get ahold of themself without any real risk of interference.

Yet they had little choice, the sun was coming and they didn't want to go back into the ruins even more.

At that moment, a deep rumble echoed from the earth below and the ground began to tremor and shift, sand shuffling along with it.

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Without hesitation, Wanderer sprinted from their spot on top of the building and leapt into the sand surrounding it, hoping that they wouldn't be caught in the earthquake.

The tremor continued to get worse and worse, shifting the sands back and forth like flour through a sieve, with a sound like the roaring of a dragon.

Where Wanderer was standing just moments ago collapsed into rubble, the whole ceiling of the hall succumbing to centuries of wear and tear in one final huzzah of dust and debris.

Then as quickly as it had come, it calmed again and the world was still.

Exhaustion flooded Wanderer quicker than ever before at their misfortune, making even the slightest emotion seem like a burden simply too heavy to be carried.

They expressed no shock at the destruction of the place they had been standing only moments prior, it had no capability to force that out of them.

Almost on cue, a scream echoed through solid stone and deafening sand, far, far away but so clear to Wanderer that it shook their soul.

It was a scream of regret and acceptance, one that carried with it the slightest hint of yearning for something that could never be achieved, to know more about the world.

Wanderer recognised the voice and knew without any doubt what had just happened, Ka-cketika had just died, buried deep within the earth.

Gone, and by all but Wanderer, forgotten.

A grim, morbid laugh echoed from the Vessel’s soul without them bidding it, Ka-cketika had died forgotten by all, their desire to know all being ended with the knowledge that nobody knew about them.

It was a little bit ironic.

As if by instinct, the Golem moved toward the ruins and began to pick up stones from the ruins of the entrance, shifting them with four arms into a loose pyramid atop a nearby dune.

The mound grew higher and higher, until Wanderer could no longer reach the top and enlisted the help of Emio, who had switched their form to that of the cactus once again.

Once no more stones could be placed on the shrine without rolling down its sides, the Vessel sat down next to the grave and pulled out the book that Ka-cketika had given them.

They knew not the meaning of the words within, but they knew the pictures it contained, and they searched it until they found an appropriate match.

It was the word for book, Rashkrete, and it would have to suffice.

Using a thin piece of rubble, Wanderer copied the symbols into a flat piece of wall at the front of the shrine, carving them as deep as their strength would allow.

The Vessel had no true way to honour the librarian’s memory, they couldn't even spell their name, but this was something, and that would have to be enough.

With the final glyph sketched, Wanderer stood up and wiped the dust off their skin, admiring the grave for only a moment before turning away with a single learnt word.

“Sestrio” they spoke to the void.

And there was no answer.

The sun was now in full force, banishing any attempt at coherent thought from Wanderer’s heat-addled mind.

But that was ok, there wasn't much to think about anyway, they just had to do what they had always done and keep walking.

It took half of an hour for the Golem to drag their way over to the moat surrounding the mesa, Emio following slowly behind, staring at the husk of their friend with ever present worry.

When they got to the canyon’s edge, the Vessel didn't even bother trying to climb down, they knew they could survive the fall with minimal damage and did so with a thud.

Immediately, Wanderer scanned the area finding a little fissure in the rock that would be just large enough for them to fit into, and crawled into it, finally finding shelter from the sun.

As if in a long delayed reply, the Golem let out a dreadful, silent scream from the depths of their soul, echoing into the Spirit realm with no one around to hear it.

Then, once they were finished, they let themselves collapse onto the floor of their fissure and stared up at the ceiling, for a long, long time.

After far too long, far too many events and calamities, Wanderer had finally found a place to stop and rest.

Emio realised what was happening and slunk their way over to the Golem, settling on their chest and curling up to have a long nap.

Absently, Wanderer combed their memories and went over every event that had happened since their last true rest in the hollow of the tree.

They had been chased by swarmlings, saved a life and almost took another, survived a wildfire and gathered a music box from a merchant.

They had made friends with rebels, joined a festival, spoke to a child and prevented an invasion.

They had been pursued by hunters, attacked by lizards, betrayed their Spirit and met another of their kind.

Then they had left as quick as they came, and saw that same friend buried under a million tons of rubble.

And in all that they didn't have a proper rest once.

They were well and truly due for one.