Day 26
John Harken
The priestly man was ecstatic. There had been something in the air since the moment he woke today. A buzzing expectation. The Mana, he realized, was transmitting something to him. It started dull, but grew at every passing hour. It felt similar to sensations Harken experienced when using his Foresight spell that one time. Though, the prophetic spell had been more frantic and compressed. This hum was quietly patient, but had a weighty inevitably.
Staff in hand, Harken left his room expecting a hint of what was to come. A grin tugging at his lips with the anticipation that something had changed. The lethargic Sixty deflated him initially. No one seemed to notice that change was literally whispering in the air.
He tried to rally people, to prepare them for what was coming. They weren’t rude, but their apologic smiles told all the tales he needed. Nothing had changed yet. The dysphoria was still strong in the hearts of the Sixty. Harken raised an ear and strained his mind’s eye in hopes to understand more. To perceive or receive what was to come. A prayer to Mana and The Pit to give him any revelation to what he sensed.
Mana answered. A wind, warm and sweet, brushed his chin like a finger directing his view. The moon-eyed girl had returned. Under the painted sky, she waited with a pleased grin. There was a maniacal pleasure exuded from her stance. Harken expected her to begin laughing any second. It would be childish and free, tinged with madness. There wasn’t any hesitation. He moved to meet her in the center of the Hall. Seeking her answers. Hoping for insight and understanding.
“Hello, Hello Harken!” they cheered at his coming. “You feel it don’t you? The swirling storm of my making? I wove and wove. A push here! A whisper there! It came swirling, swirling, swirling! A thousand possibilities consumed by my pretty monster! A lovely, very lovely, nexus of fate.”
He blinked and tried to interpret her message. Their first meeting, the moon-eyed woman had been manic in speech, but spoke clearly. Aggressively, but with sense. Now, she spoke like an oracle of Apollo. Riddles and phrases with obscure meanings.
“You created what I’m feeling?” asked Harken. “How? In what way?”
“O’ to be so blind,” mourned the moon-eyed woman. “How I pity and envy your narrow view! The Tapestry burns my eyes and consumes me in the tangle. I dove into the weaving to guide our boat. Swish! Swish! Maneuvering us through troubled waters. To this coming moment, my north star. Not the maker, but the weaver.”
“Where have you “woven” us? What comes next?”
“Do you not see it? I see the potential, the reaching eye that can pierce the Sea. My view is wide, but my mind snarls, whimpers, winces at pushing past the shore. You, you could glimpse what comes. I have seen it!... in my dreams, bursts of illumination and islands of foresight! Can you not? Do you not? Could you not? Cuckoo! Cuckoo?!”
Harken barely caught her. The lithe woman buckled as if all tenison left her body at once. Slumped in his arms, the priestly man looked down at the moon-eyed woman. His answers now locked behind her fluttering, but closed eyelids. Sighing, he put the questions aside. It was clear that someone needed to rest.
Looking down at the strange woman, Harken said, “I’ll get you to bed. Later perhaps, you can explain what you were talking about.” There was no response, not that one had been expected. He strolled with her in his hands, marveling again at the strength of an enhanced body. Standing before the two hallways that held their rooms, the priestly man realized he had no idea which was hers. Nor did he know the moon-eyed woman’s name.
Several seconds passed before he awkwardly shrugged with her still in his arms. Harken smoothly turned to the lobby. Eyes scanning for the softest couch. One upholstered with soft woven wool caught his eye. The blending and ripples of the colors used made him think of the way the moon-eyed woman had said the word “tapestry.” Harken did his best to make sure she was comfortable after setting her down. Careful shifts saw the cloudy-colored cloak acting as a blanket. A pleased sigh while snuggling into the cushions was the reward for his efforts.
He looked down at the sleeping woman and wondered about the secrets that seemed to thicken the air around her. There was something in her that resonated with him. Harken felt a kinship with the strange woman.
She said I could see it too, he thought. That the future could be revealed to me too... Is that the sameness I feel when our eyes meet? His reflection was interrupted when Julia and Clarissa arrived.
“Harken, we were looking for you,” Julia called out. “As promised, Malachi wants to continue the Council meeting this morning. He seems excited.” Her face was flush and there were sparkles in the shieldmaiden’s eyes. A glimmer of what Harken felt in the air strengthened at the sight. A whisper of a hint.
“Whatcha doin’ over here?” asked Clarissa as she peeked around the priestly man. “Thought ya were maybe kidnapping the girl, but that's an odd place to stash her if you were.”
A frown and a glare didn’t phase the redhead at all. They just grinned innocently. “She collapsed on me,” explained Harken. “I believe she worked herself too hard… Couldn’t take her to a room as I wasn’t sure which one.”
Julia opened up her notebook and said in a helpful tone, “What’s her name? I can look it up.”
He grimaced in awkwardness, “I’m afraid I don’t know the name that goes to the face. This is only the second time I have interacted with her.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me any,” broke in Clarissa. “Can’t say I know it either. She certainly hasn’t been going out into the tunnels with us. Must be one of those little mice that aren’t willing.”
“O’ well, then I guess the couch will have to do,” sighed Julia. “We have a meeting to go to.”
Harken gave the moon-eyed woman one last curious look before following after. Her mystery was intriguing, but waiting around wouldn’t gain him the answers any sooner. There was also the buzz in the air and its call. An impulse from the charged atmosphere trying to guide his focus. Like the subtle pull of the magnet, the priestly man was being directed after the women. The vibration was growing with each step towards the training hall and the Council table.
The day before, the room they had ambushed Malachi in was a scene of desperation. Scattered bottles, streaks of blood, and the smell of sweaty anguish. Their forlorn leader had been dressed to match. Looking like the bloody beggar on the scene of their shame in shredded clothing. It was a hard image to forget, but equally difficult to connect it to the sword acolyte. Such a drastic change to their charismatic leader. His hands shaking and their eyes burning with sorrow.
A new transformation had taken both the bearded leader and the room. The air was sweet with the scent of punch. A salty accent added itself as an afterthought to represent a few dishes of finger foods. It was an eye-catching spread, but not quite as much as Malachi’s greeting smile.
Harken was apparently the last to be collected as he and the two women were the last to take their seats. The priestly man distractedly noted everyone with a smile. His attention was drawn and locked onto Malachi. The feeling in the air seemed to be pulsing now. Flickering lights like golden threads swirled around their leader. A bewildered scan gleaned that no one else had noticed the phenomena. All their eyes were solely on the man, not what circled him like a tornado half-formed.
He tried his best to focus on the bearded leader as they brought the meeting to an open. A storm of gold blew and pulsed outwards. The unseen force pushed and pulled against him in imitation of a giant’s breath. Harken’s Mana quivered in sympathetic rhythm. Cycling in preparation, he felt. It made everything in the room seem very far away, but completely clear.
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She was right, something is coming, thought Harken a little dreamily. It isn’t a sealed fate yet, but so close. His Heartsong stirred and whispered at the edge of his mind.
Malachi walked out to the open area of the training room. They snapped their fingers and a blackboard made of refracted light appeared. With a colored piece of chalk picked up from the board, the bearded leader began to outline their plan for pushing through the upper tunnels safely. New protocols skittered across Harken’s mind as he tried to listen, but it was like someone else was doing the hearing. Some other him remembering it. The concept would occupy his mind for a moment before fading from concern. It felt recallable, though beyond him currently. The priestly man was drifting further away.
Into the aether of Mana, he thought. It feels so similar to when I used Foresight. Not while it was active, but on the cusp. After the words were spoken, a moment of bottomless hesitation. When the world inhaled before a coming change. The priestly man shook his head, seeking clarity. He was babbling a little. The pressure was seeping inside and causing hysteria to bloom.
Malachi spoke on. The golden threads thickened and solidified. It all felt so distant and unimportant as his body nodded along. A proxy figure to play his part in the Council, while he was pulled upwards. Not into the storm, though it was related. Instead, being raised to observe it on an even plane. Harken heard more whispers hinting at inspiration for the next step in his personal journey.
“Alright, if that’s all the questions,” asked Malachi. His words echoed and rippled. “Then that’s our plan. The archers will take lead in clearing the Vile Fields so they can “show off” their “totally rad new skills” and we’ll carefully clear out the whole upper tunnels. Every nook and cranny… Before that though, I will need to address the Sixty. Too much has been left unsaid. I have a message to give them. A defining of our purpose here.”
The words slammed into him as the golden thread blazed into a beautiful light. Malachi looked adorned and crowned in gold. Harken’s Mana surged and he was gone from the meeting room. Suddenly nowhere at the heart of everywhere. The priestly man felt the divinity of his new location. An impossible machine made from infinite parts. Clockwork that dwarfed galaxies shifted around him. Gears of cosmic glass, belts of stardust, pistons of plasma, and an endless spectrum of objects constructed of true substance. All murmuring as they did their work.
Harken was screaming/laughing. It felt like the whole of the universe was bearing down on him and he had no will to respond. He trembled fearfully/blissfully, a soaring sprite lost in the machine. A great alignment formed before him creating a tranquil pool. There was nothing to do but fall/gaze through the looking glass
Suddenly he was elsewhere and when. Malachi stood shining under the pillar of light falling from the false sky. The Sixty crowded around, listening to the passionate words addressed to them. The scene was disorienting to Harken. Like revisiting an important memory that he couldn’t recall experiencing. Everything warbled as if it was just a projection on mist. Only the voice of the sword acolyte came out clear and real. The only other thing that came through was pure emotions from the abstracted crowd.
“I called you all here today to discuss recent events. Four days ago over a dozen of us died. For the first time, we tested the Commandments’ word on barring death. What was lost, was brought back to us. That’s great, but it doesn’t excuse anything. We were too lax. Our confidence too high. The blame is mine.”
The crowd shifted uncomfortably, a sense of fear and shame drifting to Harken as he watched. No one called disagreements or accusations. They listened. Waited in a hush.
“We forgot what a monster was. Not a payday or a resource to grind. They are the stuff of our nightmares. Abominations out for blood and without a shred of mercy. You know this, I know this, but we forgot it. I promise you, that will never happen again. When we pass through the Doors, it is with the absolute assurance that every threat will be treated as the danger it is. No risks, only sensible tactics. We act smartly, together. Because united, we’ll survive anything in those tunnels!”
Shame and fear rose to a peak as the Sixty reflected on the situation, but Malachi didn’t leave them there. Negativity faded as pride rose. With those assuring words, the crowd’s emotions surged upwards. Eager and waiting for more.
“We woke up here, in confusion. A wondrous and terrifying place to our eyes. For some, this was an occasion for celebration. Others, a time of panic. I won’t say which was right. Each of us is entitled to our own reactions. What I do want to speak on, is our purpose here. Why are we here? Why us?! Those damnable whys… The only answers given to us, grudgingly given, are carved on the wall. They speak like god-given laws or rules for a game. Maybe it’s a test or a trial… I don’t care. It doesn’t matter in the least to me. What matters to me… is the sky!”
Pride dimmed as the listeners turned inwards to study the questions themselves. Anger began to appear and was stoked. The Sixty leaned forward to hear his answer before sighing in sad remembrance. Uniting in shared longing.
“I miss it. Sunny days, cloudy days, rainy days. I miss them all. I dream of them… I look at this painted sky above me… Makes me miss the sky all the more. The longing imprinted with each stroke of the brush. I feel it, and I understand. There is nothing quite like a blue sky. I want to see it again, and no matter your opinion of The Pit… I believe everyone one of us wants to as well. That all sixty of us direly need to see a clear blue sky again. I know I am sick with this desire… There is only one way to satisfy that. It is playing by the rules of this place, but we have to rise!”
Remembered joy rose in forlorn reflections. A new kind of grief sprouted at the thought of the lost sky. Malachi led them to the conclusion. The Sixty gathered and unified in the thought/purpose.
“Not for the words on the wall. No, we do it for us! We rise for us. To see the sky again...
“We rise for the sky!”
“Rise for the sky!” came the response from a few voices in the crowd. Then picked up by more. The chant flowed through the crowd. Sparking embers of a crusade.
“Rise for the sky!”
“Rise for the sky!”
“Rise for the sky!”
“RISE FOR THE SKY!!!”
The elation and unity of the words overflowed past Harken as he stood startled. The world trembled. The energy of the crowd gushed against him and threw him upwards. Rushing on a wind of Mana. The priestly man’s thoughts quaked as his mind expanded. Many things flew past him ununderstood nor seen. But there was still a lot gained.
They came in flashes, streaks, and blurs. Some abstract, others clear as if seen in daylight. A robed figure speaking to the Sixty in the gloom of the tunnels. Shifting shadows in a boiling lake. Towering above trees, a humongous hairy form. Empty streets of a dead city. A silver fist replaced with flesh. A seal-like humanoid covered in orange scales grasping a primitive spear. Brilliant light radiating from a statue with six wings. Armies charging a tower.
Then there was light. True blue daylight and endless sky. It was so bright that Harken couldn’t see anything else. He tried to reverse himself, to turn back to a few things that had been clear. To see more, or catch sight of something, anything, but his struggling distorted the vision. The looking glass shattered. Harken fell and the great clockwork flickered out of sight. The priestly man landed back inside his body with a gasp. Several of the Council looked at him curiously, but their attention was pulled back to Malachi.
Harken’s head swirled as his expanded self tried to fit back inside. His body tingled like it had fallen asleep, toe to the chin. The priestly man clenched his chest, his heart roaring into his ears. Every sight, clear images and fragments, tried to demand primary attention. When everyone started to leave, he was genuinely surprised that the meeting was over. The punch was drunk and the food was left as crumbs.
Listlessly, the priestly man followed. Visions still dancing in his mind’s eye. Their edge of clarity hadn’t softened, but they were settling. The world around him rushed forward as he tried to divine meaning from the experience. Harken had guesses. Valid reasons to believe he was correct, though still held back from the idea. It felt too much to accept. Too good to have finally found a piece of divinity.
Magic may be possible through Mana, but seeing the future is a whole other level of crazy, he thought. I have never once given faith to the concept of prophecy. Yet, here I am… maybe seeing the future.
While he meditated on the nature of what was seen, the Council was busy. The Sixty was gathered to the last member. The crowd was herded to the center of Hall. An empty space left open under the painted sky. Malachi stepped into its faint illumination and smiled at them. Their leader looked up and then back at everyone.
Harken was struck by how similar this scene seemed to that first day in The Pit. When the sword acolyte had stood before a mass of strangers and made the first claim to leadership. The parallel gave strength to the moment. The priestly man realized this was the breath before the plunge. That this was the energy he had woken to in the air. It was signaling this moment. Those threads of the gold were a sign that this moment had become certain.
When the bearded leader began to speak the words that Harken had already seen him say, he was stunned, but not surprised. It was confirmation that he could see the future. As the crescendo of emotions from the Sixty washed over him, he knew this was an important day. A major step forward. They would move more tightly now. Bound by a single cause.
I believe in the words of the Commandments and the promise of The Pit, but I can, happily, support seeing the sky again, reflected Harken. People like a call of defiance in the face of an unknown danger. Whether he planned it, Malachi chose the right message to bind us. Each of us views The Pit differently, but we all want to see the sky again. How could you not?
He listened to the speech. Feeling and experiencing it in the moment. When the chant began. Harken added his own voice. Roaring with the call to rise. Declaring with the Sixty that they would see the sky again.
“Rise for the sky!”
“Rise for the sky!”
“Rise for the sky!”
“RISE FOR THE SKY!!!”