The following days of mountain travel remained pleasantly uneventful. Lyra continued her training, spending every waking moment practicing various incantations and spells. At one point, I think I saw her manage to float a rock or something for a second. Good for her.
Most importantly though… it seems like we’re mending from what happened at the bottom of the ravine. I think we more or less all silently agreed to move on, and while I’m struggling to just forget everything that happened… at least I’m able to distract myself with the road to make it a bit easier.
In the meantime, Lasula’s started to open up to us in a kinda… unique way. At first she was a bit apprehensive about showing the markings on her arms, but as the days passed she began to grow more and more comfortable doing so. To me, it feels like a weight was lifted off of her chest. For the last few days, she only wore her sleeveless undershirt. Must be enjoying the freedom.
In other news… Travel itself hasn’t really been easy. We weren’t able to get back to the safer path we’d meant to go along, so we’ve had to retrace this older one that’s crumbling away with every step. Lasula assures us it’s quicker since it seems to be more direct of a path, but the drawback is clearly that it’s more dangerous. It’s all the same terrain: rocky, dry roads with occasionally a better view of the range beyond. But it’s impossible to tell how close we are when we’re limited only to what we see in front of us. So all I’m seeing here is that it’s more dangerous… and that’s it.
And another thing… Since I lost my pack, I also lost all my supplies… which cut our food reserves in half, took away my sleeping satchel, and all the stuff I’d taken from the village. We’ve managed to push forward with the help of this mountain range’s rampant lizard population, but they’re not all that tasty. I’m starting to miss Sera’s mom’s salted pork stew… and the baker’s husband’s chicken pie… and the…
“Marco is salivating again. Cover the food,” comes Lyra, protectively placing herself between me and our fire.
My head gradually returns to the present, where I find myself seated beside our campfire, with three skewered lizards roasting on separate sticks dug into the ground. I rest my chin in my hand, and raise up my other arm to flick Lyra between her eyes. She flinches backwards, slips on the loose gravel, and splays out over the ground.
“Don’t play around by the fire, you two,” Lasula mutters, her chin also rested in her hand. She sits opposite to me, her mind clearly anywhere but here.
“Suffer eternal damnation…” Lyra mumbles at me, rubbing her forehead.
“I think I’m gonna learn how to cook,” I say, kinda off-handed. Kinda not.
“Is that so…” Lasula breathes, still off in her own world.
“…I don’t wanna say it… but I’ve come to realize that for all your knowledge on what’s edible and what’s not… everything you make tastes kinda like the same places you found them in… namely the forest floor. And Lyra burns everything she touches— an insult to her mother’s good name.”
“…Hmm…” Lasula hums, not listening at all. Or she’d probably have been offended. But someone had to say it.
“I am a visionary to the culinary world, and I prefer my food blackened in the flames of hell,” Lyra retorts.
“Bull,” I mutter, raising an eyebrow. “You make an excuse whenever you burn yours and never eat it, then try to coax me out of mine instead.”
“Hardly,” she huffs. “…You never do end up giving it to me and I am forced to eat mine as normal.”
“Speaking of,” I say, lifting one that’s just caught fire.
“No! My lizard—!” she bursts, but quickly retracts herself. “I mean… that one was yours.”
I slap both hands on my knees as I take a stand, which also happens to startle Lasula out of her daze.
“Gonna go for a walk,” I say. “Need me to look for anything?”
“O-Oh— no, we should be well prepared for the time being,” Lasula stammers. “Be safe, Marco. And don’t go too far ahead, I haven’t had a chance to plot our path going forward.”
“Just gonna take a peek,” I say. “And by the way, Lyra… ‘Your’ lizard is on fire, too now.”
As Lyra leaps into action to salvage her food, I pivot around and begin off on my own.
The terrain is like it’s been for the last four days. To my left is an off-and-on cliff face, the only thing ‘off’ about it being when it gives way to a bit more of a clearing. On the right is currently a bit of a dip down into a rocky slope, with the base of another mountain rising from inside it. Feels like my eyes are permanently damaged from constant tunnel vision.
Only minutes after setting out, I come across a part of the trail that snakes around this big outcrop in the leftward cliff that I can’t see around. The path thins out at that part as well, so much so that we’d definitely have to walk single-file. Luckily it’s not a very long fall, but it’s still a seriously sketchy walk. That in mind… I continue forward.
“…Not that there’s gonna be much of a point…” I mutter to myself. “What, more mountain? Oh, how kind of you. I was just gonna ask…”
I get to the thinnest part, and I almost feel the need to put my back against the cliff to edge my way around. I suck in my belly and move past it, finally skirting around the bend to the other side.
But what I don’t expect to meet my eye as I round the corner… is a wide open sky.
I kinda fall back against the cliff as I adjust to the most sunlight I’ve had in days. I’m way higher up than I realized.
The afternoon sun shines down on an expansive world ahead of me. The mountain I’m on slowly planes out into a wide open field down below. Forests, lakes, and rivers stretch as far as I can see. From my point of view it’s like I’m a bird, looking down at the world beyond. I see veins of roads spreading like vines across the wilds. I see dozens of little towns and villages just like Ameris that dot the plains until the very edge of the horizon.
And then I see… It.
At first I thought it was a pale mountain, far off in the distance, so distant but closer than it’s ever been before. It takes a moment for me to comprehend its shape because I couldn’t possibly imagine that something that big could ever have been built by human hands. But as it clicks into place, I find myself sliding to the floor in sheer awe.
It’s a city, Whiteridge for sure. All the drawings in the books don’t do it any justice. Even from so far in the distance, I can clearly make out its twelve massive towers, its brick walls and multistoried buildings… and the beautiful castle at its highest point.
I stare for way too long, hoping to be able to see more details than when I last looked. But I end up straining my eyes and am forced to vigorously rub them to suppress the stinging.
In the end, I decide this view is one better shared with the ones I traveled with to get this far. So now, feeling a giddiness like being a kid again, I rush off to tell Lasula and Lyra what I’ve seen.
As the three of us stand together now at the scene beyond, I glance back and forth to gauge their emotions. To Lyra, it’s pure awe. Her eyes quickly dart from one point of interest to another, and she bobs excitedly on the balls of her feet.
But looking to Lasula, I see something different. Even though she has on a smile, the look in her eye is a somber one. And instead of looking around, she’s fixated on one spot in particular. I try to trace her line of sight, but there’s just too much distance to tell for sure. Before I have a chance to ask her about it, she speaks up instead.
“…We’re finally there, aren’t we? Just a few hours’ walk…”
“A few… huh? We’re gonna walk all the way to Whiteridge in a few hours?” I ask.
Lasula’s attention is returned to herself as I speak. She shakes her head as if to clear it.
“Sorry— No, we just… I have a stop to make, if you would allow me. A… part of my journey, as much as the silver sword is for yours.”
“Oh… sure, I don’t mind. Lyra?”
“I want to explore every crevice of this world,” she breathes without averting her gaze for even a second.
“Awesome. And in terms of… where we’re going…?” I ask, turning back to Lasula.
“We should arrive before sunset. All that matters is that we arrive there.”
“O…kay.”
Lasula’s eyes slowly drift to the side, and she points down the warn path.
“This one doesn’t end at a point preferable to our route of travel. However at some point it seems to parallel the modern trailhead. You can see it down there. At its lowest, we should be able to descend the mountain to reconnect with it.”
“You can see that far…?” I ask, squinting my eyes.
“Are we ready?”
“For sure. Let’s go,” I nod.
“The trail calls to me,” Lyra nods.
“Very well,” Lasula nods back.
The ancient mountain road winds lazily down the mountainside for a little less than an hour. Through it, we continue to have a view of the fields beyond until we get low enough that the terrain obscures our line of sight. By then, our road starts to rise back up in the wrong direction, looping up and hooking a left.
At its lowest point, Lasula steps up to the edge of the road and leans over it. With a decisive nod, she suddenly leaps off.
In a sheer panic, Lyra and I scramble up to the edge. But as soon as we do, we see that the cliff is actually a steep hill made up of loose dirt and pieces of stone. At the bottom, Lasula stands there looking back up at us. A trail of disturbed earth shows that she had slid down. Now understanding a lack of risk, I take the plunge as well.
My foot ends up catching something halfway through that sends me into a complete tumble, head over feet, until I slam flat on my back at the bottom.
“M-Marco—!” Lasula hollers, rushing over to me.
Lyra slides effortlessly down and lands at the bottom just as I groan and start to take a stand. Lasula’s healing is already on me before I have a chance to brush myself off. Any road rash that might have appeared is mended completely, leaving only the lasting sting of an embarrassing descent.
Not long after, we’re on our way again— on the original path that we would’ve already cleared by now had I never been tossed off a cliff over a week ago. I’m totally not mad. I had a great time being chased by a horror monster of my worst nightmares. And having been stabbed in the stomach.
The new… old… The current road is much like the other, except way smoother and wide enough for a whole carriage to fit, maybe even two. But we’re at the end of it, and as we descend even further, the rocky terrain is slowly replaced by gravel and dirt, and finally by foliage and stone-laden pathways.
The base of the mountain is nestled up against a dense forest, with these thick dark trees that block out most of the sunlight. As we take our first steps into it, I feel like the air has gotten crisper… cleaner. But also colder. A smell of moss and moisture fills my nose. And for the first time since we set foot in the mountains, I hear birds singing. But strangely… they don’t sing a song I’m familiar with. It sounds like a somber tune. Not quite eerie, but almost.
“I know these woods,” Lasula remarks. “…Never from within. But I remember seeing them before.”
“You mean you’ve… been through here before, Lasula?” I ask.
“Yes, I… came in from the north,” she mutters. “But… it’s been fifteen years. On the day… come tomorrow.”
Fifteen years… that number just keeps popping up.
I’m a bit worried about her. She’s getting more bleak and distractible the closer we get to this… whatever it is. I’m actually a bit nervous of what we’re gonna find.
My anxiety doesn’t fade for the remainder of our uneasy walk through the dark forest.
Another hour of walking and we finally get a glimpse of sunlight at the end of the road. Upon exiting the forest, we’re greeted with a rolling hillside, basking in the orange light of the low-hanging sun. Long streaks of clouds line the sky, and patches of birds intermittently fly overhead. A pleasant evening, great for laying back in the grass and watching the soft breeze rustle the leaves of the nearby trees.
…So why is the air thick with this weird sense of looming dread…?
But, as I would come to find out, that sense of dread is easily explainable. Because as we walk just a few more yards, I begin to glimpse the ghostly remnants of something just over the nearest hill.
A sprawling town… easily four times the size of Walden… in its entirety, reduced to ash and rubble. The outlines of stone foundations and charred support beams are all that can be seen now, burned so deeply that not a single blade of grass has grown in since its demise. The streets unfold like a maze of depression, keeping the specters of its perished citizens forever trapped in its confines. It’s one thing to hear about a tragedy that happened long ago— but to see the desolation with my own eyes places this heavy weight in my chest.
At the entrance, a monolith stands alone, surrounded at its base with mementos and vases that probably held flowers. They were all clearly put here after the flame engulfed this town. On the monolith, a brief passage is inscribed.
Let this stone remain, past the decay of time that seeks to expunge the world of all that is forgotten— as a reminder of evil’s triumph on that day. Let it be a reminder to the world and its future denizens, the power of choice… to do harm or abstain from it. And reflect on the four hundred and thirty two human lives claimed that day, whose bones lay buried beneath where you now stand. Let its spirit remain when all else is lost, that the eternal war against evil will wage on, forevermore.
Lasula approaches me from behind as I read this silently. She stands beside me for a few seconds, but eventually takes another few steps forward. From the bag on her waist, she takes out a tiny doll with straw for hair, hardly bigger than the palm of her hand, and quietly places it in front of the stone. She then backs away slightly and takes a seat on the ground.
Lasula sits there unmoving for several seconds. When she finally speaks, she doesn’t remove her gaze from the stone.
“I hadn’t originally planned to tell you both,” she mutters. “I always knew I would have to come here. When we first set off, I had hoped to pass by with only my offering and a few prayers. But… after all we’ve been through, after the trust you both have placed in me, and the trust I’ve placed in you, I can go no further until you both are aware of my story. I… thank you for not pressing for answers. You must have had no shortage of questions. But that ends now, if you will allow me.”
I slowly bend down to take a seat next to Lasula. Lyra does the same on the other side. Lasula takes both our hands in hers, and solemnly bows her head.
“…As I mentioned a few days ago… I hope above all else that you don’t think worse of me with what I am about to tell you. It was a different time… a completely different world from today, and I a different person. But… even if you do think differently of me, it is only right. I only—“
“We won’t,” I interrupt.
“…I only wanted to—“
“We will not,” Lyra interrupts.
A silence passes between us. After several seconds of silence, Lasula takes in a deep breath.
“…V…Very well. In that case…” She pauses. “It’s time you learned… what happened in this country, fifteen years ago.”