His friends kept insisting he should see a doctor, but he wouldn’t hear it. His health was his own problem, and he didn’t want anyone sticking their noses into his business.

Besides, he already had a doctor.

Jack frowned as he sat up in the bed.

He was already feeling better. He’d had a few sessions with Paul, and the spells his friend had cast had significantly helped reduce the pains and push away the fever.

It wouldn’t solve all his problems, of course, but nothing could. Well, almost nothing.

The boy had left a few hours ago. He was concerned about him, but wasn’t sure what he could do to help. At least, Victor wouldn’t have his crazy family around anymore, but how could a young boy manage all alone? He’d at least send him some money so he could buy the things he needed... it was the least he could do for him.

A red light blinked on his wristpad, signaling a new message.

He opened it, stared at it for a long moment, then deleted it with annoyance.

Time was running out.

He’d always known it, but things were only getting worse.

He had to get the mask.

Quick.

He cursed Paul for leaving just when he needed him the most.

It would have been difficult to get to the cave in his current state, sure, but he would have managed. Somehow.

No, the main problem was that he could not tell his friends why he needed the mask so badly. He could never justify it. So that forced him to concede when Paul suggested he should rest.

He coughed so hard he had to hold his stomach. He tasted bile in his mouth and walked slowly to the bathroom.

With difficulty, he bent over the sink, rinsed his mouth with water, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and looked at himself in the mirror.

Was he paler than before? His eyes looked tired and red... And were those new wrinkles?

He groaned as he walked back to the bed. A bit faster, he thought.

Could another spell help him, he wondered?

He stopped on the way, pulled a chair, and sat down. It was his way of rebelling against his condition. He would not lay in bed again! That would just turn him into a listless vegetable.

And though he was stuck here, for now, he could prepare for the next phase.

He was about to call up the guards at the cave to reserve a time slot when he realized his mistake.

If he really didn’t want to become a listless vegetable, what he needed was exercise, not a chair and a holovisor.

He stood, grabbed the cane Will had brought him, and walked out the door.

***

There are those who think Rakash is benevolent... that everything he does, he does for the good of our people.

Those who think this are not anywhere near his inner circle.

In reality, Rakash uses us, just like he uses the humans. He did so even with Julia. Though she never seemed to mind it.

When I asked her once how she could remain so calm when he obviously manipulated her, she had smiled and said: ”Would you be angry at a bird for flying?”

It was part of his nature, something beyond even his control. And she accepted him, even loved him, the way he was. Just like she accepted and loved us all the way we were. She never complained, never blamed, never became angry or upset. It was in her nature to embrace people despite their flaws—or perhaps even because of their flaws.

I am not as understanding or forgiving as she was.

Sometimes I wish I was.

It would have made it easier to tolerate Rakash’s abuses. Not of the physical sort—though he was not averse to occasional bouts of violence—but rather of the psychological sort.

He enjoyed watching his preys squirm—who never attempted to retaliate—, knowing he was untouchable.

There are things I would have liked to ask him, but never dared.

Like... what was his oldest memory?

Or... what does he know of our origins?

He is one of the oldest among us, with a vast knowledge of history. I expect he would know something of the topic.

If you wonder why I did not dare ask him something that may seem anecdotal while I sometimes challenged him on other, more delicate matters... It is a fair question.

It may be that I feared the answers he would give.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

I believe in the gods.

He does not.

Would his answers conflict with my beliefs?

Most certainly they would.

Was I willing to accept anything coming from him as the absolute truth?

Most certainly I would not.

So what would be the point?

Satisfying my curiosity, for sure, but at a price I might not be willing to pay.

There is very little we know about our people’s origins.

It is ironic for a species with such lengthy lifespans.

You would think some of us would remember those early days, when we first arrived...

The fact is that the oldest among us still alive were born well after the event. There were many bloody wars back then which took a heavy toll on our people. All the ancients were killed, and with them went a large chunk of our memories and knowledge.

We can trace our history back through five hundred generations, all the way to the founding of the Chakoji Nations... But the details are now lost.

There are hints we could do formidable things back then... such as fly, read thoughts, or sense danger ahead of time. But that knowledge is now forgotten.

Our books state we came through the Gleaming... But what does it mean?

These questions, and more, have plagued our people ever since the end of the wars.

I, and many others, believe the answers are with the Suryi.

Rakash, and many others, believe the answers lie in alien artifacts.

We cannot both be right.

I realize as I write this why I resent Rakash.

It is not because of his beliefs, which contradict mine.

Rather, it is because, by forcing me to work for him, he is forcing me to prove that he is right, despite my conviction that he is wrong.

Though I do not mean to say the artifacts have no value. I’m certain they do. But how could creatures from another world, another species, explain our origins, let alone purpose?

That makes no sense to me.

At the same time, though also curious about our origins, I know Rakash is more obsessed with our prison than he is with piercing the secrets of our past.

That is, after all, the reason he founded the Moonrise Conglomerate.

Our people are condemned to live on this world. We are bound to it by invisible bonds that none of us comprehend.

But through Moonrise, Rakash has found a way to reach beyond Qojja, and deep into the heart of the Weld.

His power is growing.

***

There seemed to be no end to the jungle.

They had been walking for hours and he had lost track of time and of direction. All trees looked the same to him. How did the silent monks know where to go? Did they? Or were they lost and pretending not to be?

Michael squashed a mosquito on his neck and cursed.

“Are we there yet?”

The two monks did not respond. Of course they didn’t. They never did. He wondered if they even understood him at all.

At least the trees were sheltering them somewhat from the beams of the sun, but it did not dampen the heat or the humidity. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back.

“Where are we going exactly?”

He wasn’t sure why he even bothered talking. They certainly never bothered to answer. It did make him feel good, like he was still alive. Though the mosquitos were enough to remind him of this, he remarked as he swatted at another.

Surprisingly, one of the monks responded this time. Not with words, but with a pointed finger.

Not that it helped any.

He stared in the direction, straight ahead... there was nothing there but more trees.

Although...

Did something glitter?

Ah! There it was again... Yes. Something bright, reflecting the light of the sun amid the trees.

Would that be the end of their journey? Or just a resting spot before they hit the road again?

“How much more time before we get there?” he asked, knowing full well there would be no answer.

They continued to march in silence.

The monks did not seem bothered by the heat. He could not even spot a drop of sweat on their skin whenever he glanced at them. They were likely used to the climate here, but still... how could a body not react to this assault?

After a few more hours of trekking, sweating, and mosquito bites, the two monks suddenly stopped. Michael nearly bumped into them, then looked over their shoulders.

A large chasm spread before them, as far as the eye could see. He had not noticed it at first, because it was riddled with thousands of islands, each covered with trees... if one did not pay attention to the ground, it would just seem like a somewhat less dense part of the jungle.

Those islands were at the top of long strands of rock that poked out of the gap. On one of them, he noted an antenna amidst the trees that reflected the sun and blinded him when he looked in its direction.

Michael moved to the edge of the chasm, looked down, and gasped.

A city sprawled at the bottom, its walls of gold shining in the sun, with glittering towers reaching almost as high as the islands. At first glance, he would have guessed it was even larger than Joqqal.

One of the monks grabbed his shoulder, startling him. The robed man pointed at a platform a few feet away and motioned for him to get on.

Michael hesitated. It did not look very safe. There was no railing around it, and its floor was made of thin wood.

But he was given no choice. He felt the two men push him insistently, so he relented.

Once all three had stepped on, the platform shook and began a rapid descent—a bit too rapid for Michael’s taste.

As they went down, he observed the city with fascination. Its streets were teeming with activity. There were lit-up panels with video feeds, fountains of emerald water, noble-looking men riding flying carpets... As they came closer to the bottom, music reached his ears. It was a beautiful, magical, soothing kind of music.

Though it had felt like forever, it only took a couple of minutes for the device to reach its destination.

When he got off, two smiling women greeted him.

“Welcome, stranger.”

It was nice to finally hear the voice of someone else than himself.

He smiled back. “Where are we?”

They seemed perplexed by his question.

“Why, in Ahuaxa, of course!”

***

His temper did not improve as he flew the rest of the way into town.

The more he thought about the events of the last twenty-four hours, the more he grew angry. Most of all against himself. He should have expected something to go wrong.

Ed instructed his glider to take him directly to the Commodore and jumped out as soon as it landed.

He rushed up the stairs and knocked at Jack’s door.

There was no answer.

He knocked again.

Still nothing.

Annoyed, he hurried back to the front desk.

The man who greeted him was not Rose.

“Mr. Arnett? Oh, I saw him leave about twenty minutes ago.”

“Any idea where he went?”

“No, I’m sorry, sir...”

He ran out of the hotel and got back into his glider.

“Take me to the mask,” he instructed the AI. “As fast as possible.”

The vehicle took off and headed in the requested direction.

It was a quick ride.

There too, Ed jumped out as soon as the glider landed, and rushed into the gateway. He called out for the guards.

The one who had called him earlier—his name was Bob—recognized him. He looked troubled as he came to meet him.

“Oh, Mr. Gyldenstierne. I don’t understand... I thought Mr. Arnett had left town, but he was here a few minutes ago.”

“That was not him,” said Ed dismissively. “I mean the one you sent me after. Is Arnett still here?”

“No,” said another guard. “But he did schedule a session with the mask for tonight.”

“What time?”

The man tapped on his wristpad and checked through the logs. “Seven, looks like.”

Ed grunted. “Alright. Thanks. I’ll be back. Oh, and if you see him again, do not tell him I’m looking for him.”

“Will do. Or not, rather.”

Ed left.

Seven.

That meant three hours to kill.

He decided to go back to his hotel and eat something.

Get a few things ready, too, just in case...

One way or another, he would get answers tonight.