The little grove situated at the west side of the Academy looked as lovely and colourful as ever as Fella dashed through its windy pathway, slipping occasionally thanks to the wet cobblestones. The entrance opening from this side of the building led straight into the library; reading, studying, or conducting research while sitting in the grove was a usual pastime activity in which many students indulged. Fella quickly opened the glass door, slipped inside the library, then took off her soaking coat and hang it onto the rack by the door.
Students abounded in the cozy maze of bookshelves despite the happenings outdoor; the library had always been an independent biome of pupils seeking peace and quiet. Fella quickly tip-toed her way through the gilded burgundy carpet, ignored the librarian’s grumpy comment on how her shoes would ruin the textile imported from Temdath, then stormed out from the library.
The small hall she got into led to the kitchens and to a side corridor by a staircase where some of the older classrooms were situated. Students teemed here, buzzing as a nest of confused bees, thus Fella dashed to the stairs without a second thought, heading to the first floor, rushing through the narrow corridor adorned with Du Deux’s less popular pieces, running past many an experiment-laboratory and -classrooms, the volume of the rabble outside alternating on a large scale following her through. Then at the end of the hallway she leapt to the spiral staircase by the oil painted rose window, and briskly descended it. Not stopping at the ground floor, she only took a glance at the entrance hall from the corner—people stood there as statues, forming a circle around Professor Vikaru nodding readily but calm, her words unable to reach Fella—and she continued to descend to the basement.
The first underground level of the Academy included many a room and space for social activities and was more-or-less in active use by the more sociable pupils. Since Fella could never resonate with the racket of pretentious wretches characterised by self-importance and entitlement, she raced past the floor without lifting her gaze from the stairs.
The basement itself was located much deeper below the building. After the long descending she found herself step below a narrow arch, unfamiliar silence descending upon her. The short corridor led to the actual basement, guarded by a simple iron gate. Fella tentatively moved closer. There was no sign of Professor Melyn—that week he was sitting by the gate in the little recess, behind a small, weathered desk.
Fella walked up to the gates. It won’t be that easy. She pushed—it did not budge. She quickly tried to pull, too, just to dissipate the inherent feeling of being silly; the gate did not move. Fella sighed, glanced back at the stairs, frustration and anxiety slowly building up in her chest. That deep, not a single noise reached her ears, but should someone descend on those stairs, she would have nowhere to hide.
She kicked at the gates in frustration. She would not have another chance like that. She consciously deterred her thoughts from Nael and his dealings for she was not sure she could digest all that had transpired in the courtyard. Wringing her hand, she started to walk up and down in the six feet wide corridor. She must not have let Medh down. She could already picture the disappointment on the girl’s face, the emphatic patting on the shoulder and the reassured whispers that she tried everything as Medh turns away from her.
She kicked at the door again in frustration.
The hinges of the iron gates groaned plaintively. Fella froze and stared at the gate. Why not? Likely no one would question a broken door if a rabble of that size is raging outside. She was torn, part of her—the larger part—screamed at her not to do anything stupid—then the image of a disappointed Medhraine Brygard flashed before her eyes and that was all she needed to start kicking at the hinges with full force.
Her build was not at all robust, far from it—while Nael took after Dad and his muscular physique, all tall and broad-shouldered, Fella inherited more of Mom’s features, being shorter, slimmer, more agile. It took several painful swings of her feet until the old and rusty iron gate finally gave in, ripped from the wall, slamming against the floor with a thunderous blast, shattering the silence. Fella winced and stood still until the resounding echoes of her doing died out, making sure she heard no one approaching from the stairs, then she quickly scooted into the basement of the Academy.
As opposed to her expectations, the basement did not differ from any level above in layout, albeit a thick layer of dust covered the floor of every hallway. She walked past several piles of rubble, mostly consisting of broken desks and chairs, tattered carpets, ruined boards and lamp stands. She did not leave the main hallway, though many corridors opened from both sides; some seemed a dead end upon a quick glance, while others led far beyond vision.
Fella froze, it felt as though her heart skipped some beatings. The light. How can I see? She looked about; no torches were lit, no lamp shed light, and yet her vision was clear, easily seeing everything around her for a rough hundred feet. Admittedly, now that she was paying attention, she also realized that the light seemed as if the place was bathing in pale moonlight, an ethereal blue veiling all objects.
She continued to walk down the hallway, more and more reluctant. The sheer size of the basement weighed down on her, the emptiness lingering around made her wary of the smallest of noises—even though the noises she heard were borne only by herself: the faint echoes of her boots pattering on the stone, her increasingly shallow breathing, the soft whispering of the folds of her deep green uniform. Soon, every time she passed a crossroads of corridors, she would close her eyes for a couple of steps until she was sure she left them behind; she was getting terrified by the emptiness, but she was even more terrified of seeing someone from the corner of her eyes in such crossroads; she decided it was best not to see at all.
Gazing at the walls in constant amazement, she soon found writings etched into some of the arches above the hallways:
Ym särja Dhanus Gjölen, Yljamäneren Fröthaska.
Fella possessed adequate if a bit coarse knowledge of the extinct languages they studied at the Academy. She could identify some of the words as belonging to the Sunken Tongue of the Gods, but she did not understand the entire meaning of the message:
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Here something Dhanus the something, Father of something.
Dhanus was a God, that much Fella knew despite not practicing Faith. She checked the arch opposite, on her right. There was a writing etched in the stone, too.
Ym särja Brael Madhíran, Yljamäneren Mrötheske.
Unable to match the words to their meaning, she simply shook her head and continued her walk down the corridor, occasionally glancing at the texts.
Ym särja Leo Klyren, Thrödlíran Baraka.
Here something Leo the something, Champion of the … poor? Wretched?
Ym särja Revenyr Hjölmanen, Märgraran Välkäska.
Here something Revenyr the something, Warden of the something. Or perhaps Guard? Defender? These words sound so similar.
Most of these carvings seemed old, very old, as though coming from an entirely different age. Brow furrowed, Fella concentrated hard to make out any meaning to the unknown runes, but those words were simply missing from her vocabulary, and hence she could not get anything from staring at the words, save a headache.
She lost her sense of time. By the time she reached a solid stone wall, her legs had already felt sore. Fella arrived at a crescent-shaped room which seemed like a large recess at the end of the corridor, moth-eaten carpet covering the floor, a pair of ornate armchairs resting against the round wall, long unused, a small table between them. The walls seemed plain, no writing visible on them. Helpless, she turned around, twice; there was no doubt then, it was the end of the main hallway. Fella watched the apparent trail in the dust left by her steps with growing anxiety. So much for hiding.
The gravity of the situation fell on her without a sign. Fella backed away until she felt the cold stone through her clothes. She instinctively shook her head while watching the way whence she came. I’m not doing that walk again, she objected against her mind’s rational argument. She figured this place must have been used to honour the Gods a long time ago. Perhaps to make sacrifices, too.
Or worse.
She sighed, deep, and the face of Medh flashed through her mind again. That seemed to rejuvenate her efforts, though, she realised with sorrowful resignation, it was less and less effective.
She touched her kyanite. Medh gave it to her with a purpose, the girl knew what she was doing. The Encyclopaedia claimed that kyanites were gemstones which did not require the wielder to be Reborn nor to be able to operate with the gemstones. She looked around, helpless. Even if she knew how to use the kyanite, she would not have any ideas when to use it.
Fella clutched the gemstone in her palm. The kyanite felt warm, unnatural against the chill reigning in the basement. Now is a time as good as any other, I guess. She stared at the gemstone, unsure as to how to proceed.
The kyanite did the work in her stead.
The gemstone glowed, its surface warmed, then Fella sensed something latching out from the kyanite. The next moment, all light snuffed out.
She winced. Pitch black nothing surrounded her. Terrified, she crouched and backed away to the wall, trying to keep herself as small as she could. Her entire body quivering, Fella put her hand on her mouth to muffle the shallow breathing keeping her from spotting any new noises—moments passed, then seconds, but the deafening silence remained, pierced through only by her awkward rattling.
Her vision adapted to the darkness with much difficulty. The faint turquoise light the kyanite emitted was a futile attempt to dissipate the thick black. Fella fidgeted and turned, throat tight, chest heavy, and her eyes widened when her gaze fell unto the crescent-shaped wall behind her missing.
It was in ruins; huge chunks of stone vanished from the structure, gaping holes yawned at her from all angles. Beyond—a cavern, dimly lit by a cavalcade of colours.
Newly borne hope sparked within her. Gripping the kyanite in her neck she stepped past the remnants of the stone wall—likely to have been an illusion, but she could not do anything with that information—and sighed in admiration.
The giant cave beyond the wall was encroached in azure light; crystals protruding from the base of the rigid stone walls glowed all over the place. Fella did not recognise these crystals nor whether they were actual gemstones ready to be harvested and refined into devices for operating with the faelin. She looked up; the ceiling of the cave was lost in black void.
Following the path lit by the crystals, she soon saw other minerals twinkling in the colours of green, gold, violet and crimson. Fella, mesmerized by the unfamiliar crystals, wandered around the cave which soon expanded into a maze of tunnels. She did not think much about directions, she headed straight, figuring it would be easier to get back to the Academy.
The ground descended faintly, and even “straight” meant taking turns after a while. Fella smelt a scent of salt and fresh air, ocean air. Frowning, she paced up, wondering when more and more natural light seeped into the cavern, and with that, a low, sturdy rumble permeating the silence. Soon, she found the source—an arch had been carved in the stone wall functioning almost as a door to the outside world. Fella stopped in front of it, sighing once again in admiration; the infinite ocean lay beneath her. Her eyes caught a glimpse of another text above the arch; this one seemed much fresher than the rest in the basement:
Ym särja Amryth Thlífen, Hjölmanen Syfjala.
Fella wondered for a brief moment why “Amryth” had been written with a ‘y’, but soon forgot about it.
She stood at the edge of the cliff under the Academy. A small platform, no more than ten feet of width, led from the cave out to the open, like a naturally formed balcony. Fella tentatively stepped on it, adrenaline pumping through her veins. There were no fence nor rails, hundreds of feet of insane fall surrounded her all around as water was churning deep down beneath her. She peeked below, but soon leant back when blood buzzed in her ears. She risked a glance above; the relatively smooth white wall of the cliff stood menacingly, sprawling to the North and the South. She believed she could see some of the branches of the trees in the little grove if she squinted and focused hard enough.
Fella backed away into the cave, rubbing her ears after the stone walls somewhat suppressed the constant roar of the ocean’s waves. She watched the horizon vanishing into grey mist, the sun already sinking near, painting the sky an alloy of orange and red, its image mirrored on the surface of the glinting water. She breathed the salty air in, smiling.
She found the cave; she found the chamber.
Medh will be proud.