It was a place beyond imagination and outside of comprehension, seen though not believed, seeming like something from a dream except during waking hours. Rodent, descending from a ceiling of Deskar, passed through a hole that closed afterward.
His feet touched on the ground, which undulated and quivered, seeming like flesh composed of strange rocks, the smallest motion from it still shaking through his legs. This was a living, comatose place, spacious though with a low ceiling—the Deskar above still slithering as it usually did.
The walls themselves were different, seeming to actually be made of rock. Strange nuggets were embedded within them, bright white and blue crystals with a glow that couldn’t be fully realized by Rodent’s soul. It was as though a flashbang had gone off in this place and was permanently left in that state.
Rodent blinked as he was captured in a glow, one that came from himself and was provided by beams coming from the walls, protecting him in a bubble. The place reminded him of an underground cave, an ancient, sacred temple that seemed older than the world itself.
He stepped forward, the rocky flesh beneath his boots not feeling right, the crystal in the walls so very bright—each seeming like a window to heaven. Their beams were too bright for Rodent to look through them, at them, nearly blinded at a glance.
In the walls, he felt heaven.
In the ground, he felt the entrance to hell.
It was a strange paradox.
His soul didn’t feel right here.
But he moved forward regardless, mindful of the ceiling and what might attempt to latch out at him, the silver web still behind him. There were bumps and curves in the ground, another cavernous entrance ahead, which he reached to pass into the second ‘room.’
There was a cliff ahead, slightly above, with waterfalls of crystalline water coursing into a pond below. Rodent ascended the little platform before him and, at its end, peered into the water. Once again, it was too bright for his eyes and soul to peer into, so he stepped back, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.
The ground was different from before, and the stone was like the ancient stone he had seen at the pond, causing Rodent to be confused.
Just then… he felt a tingling from his ring finger… and his vision returned to look down at the glowing ring. It was bright silver with an exuding sound. By itself, it inched forward, and his heart was startled as his fingers seized upon it.
He tried to stop it from moving.
“No,” Rodent breathlessly said with no emotion attached. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
However, the ring inched forward, calling to a higher purpose.
“I… I can’t let her go…” Rodent’s head shook as he looked around the room, which was short and small. Holy beams came from the walls, the pond never rising. The broken man exhaled his soul and felt weak in his very being. “I… I can give you anything else. But not her. Not her.”
But the ring twisted against his pressing fingertips, not in a bid to escape, but… as if to comfort him. At once, Rodent remembered the past, the way their hands and fingers rubbed together, slowly and delicately, time slowing around them as well.
It was as if they had all the time in the world to enjoy each other.
Rodent felt a clicking in his heart, something of the past returning to the present, nearly shattering the already broken glass inside him. At once, he felt a call for tears but held himself together—forcing a big, chuckling smile that exhaled his nervous energy.
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And then, after that, his fingers started to let go, not wanting to but trusting in the ring, feeling how it flew off his finger to the center of the pond. There, it hovered, the holy beams touching and causing it to radiate, and from it, steps formed over the pond, ascending toward the cliff on the other side.
Drawing and holding a deep breath, Rodent went forward and, without hesitation in his movement, stepped on the step… which glimmered as miniature beams rose around his boot.
Like that, he could carry upward, a certain buzzing noise coming from his hovering and swirling ring… until he was on the cliff on the other side.
From there, he turned around, seeing the ring kept there, holding the charge and the steps, awaiting when he would come back. Rodent blinked, looking down at the water, and for a second… he saw a sea of items resting at its bottom.
Then, he was blinded again and forced to move forward; he did so into the next and last room.
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It was big, round, and spacious. Ancient stone constituted most of the room, and somehow, there was no ceiling—just holy beams and the impression of a sky behind it all. Rodent felt his heart rapidly beating, entering this place, feeling like he was somewhere he did not belong, the weight and the tension slamming onto his shoulders and killing his chest.
Rodent walked into this holy place, at the center of which rested a great, black mound, the smallest hint of its total size revealed. It was encased in something, but despite this, Rodent sensed the life within the thing. Never had he felt such a dark, heavy weight drilling into his soul and spine, crushing him with the impression of a presence?
Here, Rodent knew he was in the middle of something much larger than himself, something that could be dangerous for all if he was not careful… if he did not play his cards right. And, last of all, though he had noticed it first… he acknowledged the Sword last.
Rodent swallowed at seeing it, the simple thing that it was, seeing the wall behind it was actually the blade of the massive Sword staked into the sea of Deskar. He tried to control his breathing as he went forward, the mound of something he could not comprehend, not knowing the endless thickness of the casing around whatever was inside.
With a deep breath, Rodent placed his foot on the mound, climbing its curve and coming atop the thing. He saw the Sword before him now, coming up to his waist. It was a simple steel blade that was extremely reflective with aged gold guards—the same was true of the rest of its hilt.
Rodent stood before the blade of legend, the one talked about for ages, the one waiting for the next Hero of the world to claim it. The Sword that would defeat evil, the blade that would burn through Deskar, the critical piece that would begin the next chapter in the world’s fable.
So much was inherent in this Sword, so much relied on it, both believed to exist and not exist, some daring and others rejecting the notion of going after it. So many through the ages had attempted to reach here, to even see the Sword with their own eyes.
The trails, before the valley and here, where they fell.
The forest, consumed by the sea.
And then…
…of course…
…those who died exactly where Rodent was standing.
He smirked. Glancing around and seeing no skeletons. It was then that he looked above and chuckled at figuring it out. Then he looked at the Sword, feeling the room urging him on to try his luck, to grab the handle and test his existence against it—to see if he was the worthy one.
A special one.
The chosen one.
The Hero.
Rodent brought his hand toward the grip as if he was about to touch it… until he dropped and sat on the ground with a smile… looking directly at the blade’s steel with a cocky and knowing look. More and more, the room urged him to do something—almost as if holy annoyance was building.
But Rodent didn’t let himself be bothered.
Instead, he continued to sit there, waiting for the building tension in the room to reach its apex, seeing who would be the first to break. Finally, though, when the anger in the room held at a certain level and would go no further than that… Rodent knew that he had him.
“You can speak,” Rodent said with a smirk. “Can’t you?”