Traveling the viscountcy turned out to be more fun than I expected.

It was the spirit of adventure and meeting new sights that excited me. It was fun, looking at people dressing up weirdly and so ancient-ey.

It was like traveling back to the ancient British empire. And I mean it when they conquered like half the world. Cause it was such a mixture of fashion!

Where is the monotony of life!? The cultural inertia!?

Men in colored coats or overcoats over t-shirts or shirts. Some with robes of white, or black looking like men of the clergy. Some with tight jeans, while others with loose shorts.

In comparison, I believed women's fashion had more stability. Their fashionable gowns, or pretty dresses focused on making them look thinner than they were.

‘A zero-waist policy I see.’ With that thought, I dedicated a moment to pray for their health.

The only commonality I could find was the shared love for a tiara on their head.

Though of course, it’s more of a custom than love. Every non-Artist shall never be seen in public without one.

And so as people always do, they have taken it upon themselves to make it as unique as you can get without completely distorting the definition of one.

Some had it plain, others designed it in patterns of leaves, birds; some in notes of a song, while one person had it made like a dragon. The secondhand embarrassment I felt for the guy would never triumph his own pride in himself.

Though I can see the most common color was red-purple; the color of House Servouz. The rich people as I’ve seen in the other carriage also had it in gold. It shined so bright I was scared for them.

But I can see the influence of the 'inner-outer self' trend of the empire here. It was a weird concept, but one which really intrigued me.

It was basically wearing two sets of clothes. One depicts your personal side, the one you keep in the house or towards your loved ones; and the other for the public, an outward image of sorts.

However, a part of me, the one who had lived most of his life in a tropical state, couldn’t help but wince at the prospect of wearing so many layers of clothing.

To their credit, the empire hardly had temperatures above where-is-my-cola or I’m-gonna-beat-my-wife (as some of my neighbors would proudly proclaim) levels.

In fact, it was more chilly outside than in the manor. With it being the 10th of the year, winter was near.

It was astounding, again. How in the hell did they achieve such a level of centralization in the manor? They do not have torches inside, nor any source of heat, and yet it’s like an invisible thermostat ghosts are having fun with inside.

And if my memories served me right, the temperature was not as monotonous with a straight gradient. No! It was worse.

They had a personalized mind-reading thermostat ghost who changed temperatures to suit every person’s preference!!

How!? HOW!?

And I had spent a major part of the journey, till the shadow of the Vault overlapped everything and the hustle of the public was a mute, I mulled in my thoughts. And one line always showed up. Every inquiry, every question, every curiosity was always answered with the same line,

‘E Mural ar’ ume’

Yea, I’m gonna break every fucking jaw who answers cryptically from now on.

“ ‘E Mural ar’ ume’….. it’s clearly a palindrome and has something to do with the murals. Drama queens, every single one of them, jeez.

“But it’s exciting too. I should look more into the murals when I return. They clearly are enchanted in a fashion to allow a number of effects. First the light, then time, and now this. Wonder if they can do more.” I wonder in excitement and annoyance.

Though mostly excitement. Even the dads of these assholes can’t taint that part.

Eventually, I found myself out of my thoughts. The Vault demanding all my attention, and I could swear I felt water on my nape. But it was dry.

Maybe I was hallucinating. A bitter taste filled my mouth and I rolled my tongue over my teeth. It felt dry too.

I looked out the window and the road felt endless. It was so close yet so far away, that despite traveling for so long, the distance never seemed to reduce.

And so I tried to steady myself, wait in patience, steady my mind for what I was to do. But there was this weird itching across my skin. It made my hair droop, my skin sensitive and my clothes sticky. The humidity in the air felt suffocating.

I felt more frustrated by the second. The bitterness in my mouth increased and my tongue felt abrased. I felt more abrasive.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“How far away now!?” I barked, opening the slit to the carriage driver.

“But sir… we reached a while ago. I told you a few minutes ago, but you kept repeating ‘E mural a’ um’ or something…. So I didn’t wanna disturb you, sir. I’m sorry.” He apologized, looking scared.

‘Wait, wha-‘

“What did you say!?” I barked even louder this time, my temperament unnaturally hot.

Knock knock.

Like a ghost in my closet, a series of knocks jolted me in my place and cooled me down in an instant. A shiver crept up on me and I shakily, reluctantly, looked out the window.

There he stood, Sir Pedroph. The knight captain of my entourage. Standing outside, looking at me with a benign smile. Standing outside. Standing outside!

“I apologize for any inconvenience on his part Sir, but he merely speaks the truth. We have arrived at our location for some time now.” He said, gesturing towards the Vault in the distance.

And I stared at it. For an unhealthy amount of time, just staring at it, internalizing what just happened. Weren’t we still very far away? Why are we here already?

Was I angry? Why was I angry? My back feels soaked, it feels so cold. It feels so dry outside. Why is it not humid? My scalp feels prickly.

My wife used to say I had a face with subtitles, and the horror I was feeling at this moment must’ve surfaced, since with a shing the knight beside me bought out his sword, took his stance, and in a calm voice asked “What is it, Sir Conor? Do you see something? Are you okay?”

“Huh?” I asked, still stupefied, before forcing myself under control. “It… it’s okay. Maybe I was hallucinating. I’m sorry to alert you like this.”

“It’s completely normal Sir.” He reassured, weirdly more calm, yet still ready for a fight “I’ve heard stories of people. Hallucinating or feeling things they shouldn’t. Not even Artists, just common folk. Some make legends out of a scare, yet others, mostly the truth.

“It’s a known fact. Some people experience weird things near the Vault. Unfortunately, we are not one of them, but it’s a good omen, Sir. At least for you.”

I hummed in response, subconsciously out of appreciation. But I was already feeling better. Much better in fact. Horror at the unnatural aside, I felt a stir of hope within me.

‘This is different!’ I exclaimed in excitement. This was different and this was good.

The last time I was here, a participant in the New Colour Ritual, I had not felt a thing.

All the way to the Vault I had felt not a stir within me. I had failed to become an Artist. Wrapped up in sorry’s and condolences I was stamped a failure and deported back to my room.

But this time… this time was different. Somehow I was different. I don’t know if it’s the new blend in my soul, my newfound abilities, or the thing space-ing above my head. But it is something!

From my breast pocket, I bought a pocket mirror. And looking through it I observed the spatial snake.

People might call me crazy, but I could swear it looked bigger. Nothing gargantuan, but it looked more than double its size. There were more tunnels. And it swirled faster!

Double certain now, I finally walked out of the carriage. I could instantly feel a change in temperature, but it was nothing too drastic.

“Sir, are you certain we shouldn’t be going back?” The knight asked.

“Yes Sir Pedroph. You and others wait here. I will try to be quick.” I said and walked ahead.

Past the entourage and past the slab of stone fixed in the dirt which read “Please walk alone”, I walked alone.

From this distance, the Vault was all anyone would have in their vision. Its black, smooth, yet lustreless surface hides them from the sun.

And the mist hides the Vault from me.

It had come out of nowhere, or maybe it was always there, but I just never noticed it. First, the humidity arrived, bringing with it the uneasiness. Doubts, forming in my head.

Was it the right thing? Am I ready to take this step? Should I have taken my time? Would I really be able to go back if I do this? It had felt like walking through a misty future. And then the present became that future.

Confused, irritated, drenched in water, scared, and fascinated, I had kept my pace. I kept at it, trying to think. In the stories I’ve read heroes always seemed to find a way through thinking.

But I could not remember a thing. A foot deep in the snow all of a sudden, I struggled to move even. The mist boiled around me. And it felt hotter by the second.

My head was a mess. Thinking through this mixture of hot and cold, this annoyance and fragility I felt at the same time, I stopped to consider. I felt I could die at any moment, this thing could kill me at any second. Then why haven’t it?

It was but a doubt in my head, yet I wondered, what’s the point of the mist? Is it trying to hide something from me? What is there that I could not or must not see?

Hell as if it’s gonna stop me!

And with my newfound vigor, I started flailing my arms around me. The irritation fuelling my anger, I tried to blow away the mist.

And a few moments later my arms felt sore. My irritation slipped into despair.

‘Okay… maybe that was not the best idea.’ I conceded after a few moments of that tomfoolery. My arms pulsing with the prickly soreness.

So what was I supposed to do now? I was sure there was some way. There has to be!

And then I remembered. Searching through my breast pockets, I found it. The mirror in my breast pocket finally entered the play as I hurriedly turned it towards my head.

- - - - * - - - -

I…

Around me, snow-like ash fell from the sky. It sat on me and melted away. It felt like nothing.

It….

My legs wobbled. I felt no sensation in my knees as if soaked in a tub of hot water for a while. Soft and senseless.

“It…. is beautiful” was the only remark which left my lips, as blood seeped out of the corner of my eyes, dripping through my cheeks, into the snow.

It was a tapestry of colors, the most enchanting art woven across space itself, stitched through life and culture. It whispered of past, spoke of the present, and sculpted a future.

It was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. And it was the most I have ever seen. I was not meant to look at it, I realized.

‘But I’m glad I did…’

It was the key. Like the red of the apple, or the blue of the sky; it came and instantly made me so much more colorful. I felt satisfied, cold, hot, and a wet trickle around my fingers.

I felt happy. My thoughts felt faster, as I imagined myself standing in a drawing room with a canvas above me. The chuckle of a baby sought my attention and I looked to my side, at my beautiful wife with my daughter in her arms sitting on the sofa.

She sat there waiting for me. I had a seat beside her and I sought to reach it.

That was the last thought I had as a pitch black invaded my sight from the edges flowing into my eyes and I was gone, receding back into the quiet, lonely place.

- - - - * - - - -