She spent the entirety of the next morning entering the world of ribbons, remembering the lessons Lord Kindel taught her:

“Every gap is part of a spectrum. It has a nature, a 'color' if you will. There are those that affect the physical reality of the world. They are plentiful and many. There are those which are temporal, which cut through time, allowing you to glimpse into the past. There are those that traverse great distances, we call those 'spacial' gaps. Within these rifts, are even smaller gaps, like fine threads, a spectrum within a spectrum. To find your focus...simply drift and see which ones you attract or are attracted to. Make no presuppositions, do not assume you will be drawn to the physical or the temporal. You will thwart yourself.

Ryel was drifting among them, allowing the gaps to become colors in her mind. But they barely evaded her grasp. Growing frustrated, she opened her eyes and stared at the barrier which separated her chamber from Lord Kindel's. It was just as well that she had decided to take a break as the carriage pulled to a stop. A moment later, there came a knock at the door.

“Our destination requires a brief walk on foot.” Lord Kindel said as she hopped down from her chamber.

She looked around and saw why the carriage could go no further. Though the trees were sparse and the land covered in grass, jagged boulders littered the plains like spikes. There were subtle hints of a path. However, it was far too narrow for the carriage to navigate. They left Agmar behind, tethered to a spike Lord Kindel had driven into the ground. The stitan could have easily ripped it free, but it was well-trained. Still, Lord Kindel had disengaged the carriage just as he always did. Agmar had a habit of wandering. As the carriage disappeared from sight, the lord led Ryel into a forest of stone and quartz. Clouds in the sky raced their shadows over the many sharp, irregular pinnacles. Ryel felt anticipation grow with every step that she took. The Nikral was enigmatic about his purposes, but he had told her this stop would be part of her training. Though in his typical fashion, he said nothing more than that.

“Lord Kindel?” Ryel said, deciding to break the silence.

“Hmm?” he thrummed, leaping to the top of a boulder, with his massive strength, his bone armor clinking. He reached down to take her hand and hoisted her up as if she weighed less than a feather.

“I was wondering...what the lords know about the black fogs?” she asked.

“They are as evasive and as mysterious to us as they are to you.” he said, his unseen jaw forming shapes in the fabric as he spoke, “We do not know why our sight is obscured when we stand in it, nor why our ears hear only whispers. It spurns any attempt we make at analysis. If...one tries to take a sample, it will not matter how airtight the container is, it will slip out as soon as soon as it goes beyond the cloud's boundary. We have also been unable to determine its origin. Or rather...we have never witnessed its...'creation'. If you find a valley that has consistent black fog and it consistently flows from east to west, you can find the spot from which it spawns. But...if you try to observe the moment in which it spawns, it will instead appear on the other end of the valley and travel from west to east. If you have two observers on either end of the valley, it will instead spawn near the middle and split into two smaller clouds, which travel away from the middle. If, you are somehow able to line enough observers along the valley so that no spot is unseen, the black fog will either not appear, or it will appear in an adjacent valley. Some have hypothesized that this demonstrates an 'awareness'.”

Ryel was floored, she never knew that about the black fog! But she was not surprised. Most Kel were too terrified of it to investigate.

“It...is alive?” She asked.

“It is only a hypothesis.” Lord Kindel corrected, “tt acts as if it does not 'want' us to know its secrets. I have heard of attempts being made to 'communicate' with it and provoke some sort of response. But I am aware of no more than that. Do not assume it has sentience until it provides an irrefutable demonstration of its awareness.”

“I see.” she said, thinking about all the implications as the pinnacles which surrounded them continued to grow in their size and density. “I was wondering if knowing more about the black fog would help me in my practice.”

“I know.” Lord Kindel said. Ryel went silent at those two words.

Though he did not shout nor raise his voice, the tone was one that made her wonder if she had said something wrong. He did this occasionally, reacting tersely to some inquiry or some phrase she uttered. It served to remind her that she was in a privileged position. The Nikral were lore-wise, long-lived, and knowledgeable. Stating the obvious to them was almost like an insult. Eventually they came upon a dead end. A steep wall of boulders rose before them like a cliff, as if the plate of the ground had been shattered, its ends heaved into the sky. Though it did not look impassable, scaling it would take time. Lord Kindel reached it and waited for her to catch up.

“There was a path here.” he said, “but it must have collapsed. You will ride on my back while I scale this face.”

“I will...w-what?” Ryel did a double take, not sure she heard him correctly.

“I will carry you on my back.” he repeated, “there are footholds in my bonework for my child to use. But female Kel such as yourself are of similar size. They will suffice.”

“B-but...” Ryel could not comprehend such a thing, to actually touch a Nikral was a privilege. But to be carried by one?! “But it's never been done! You're a lord and I-”

“Do you think you will hurt me?” Lord Kindel tilted his mask in a clear sign of amusement, “That your airiness will tire my shoulders? We do not have time for demonstrations of frivolity. Gather your awe quickly, child. Our destination is beyond that rise.”

He turned his back to her and knelt on one knee. Ryel could not believe this was happening, it had to be some sort of test. But she approached the lord, her face burning. She saw the footholds near his waist as well as tusks which jutted back from his shoulders. These she used to pull herself up. She expected him to sway under her weight but he held himself like a statue. This close, she could actually smell a piquant odor under the fragrances he used to disguise it. But it was an unbelievable honor nonetheless.

“Hold tight when I leap and put some distance between your face and the bone plating.” he thrummed, “that way you will not smash your face into my back when I land.”

She gulped nervously as he stood with her on his back and approached the wall. There, he considered a boulder that was a head higher than he was. He took a few steps back, crouched to the ground and launched upward. Ryel had been clenching the tusks but even that did not prepare her for the power of his leap. She felt her body try to lurch backward as he soared above the boulder, then felt her stomach trill when he landed. Be bent his knees to absorb most of the impact yet still Ryel had to brace herself to prevent her from fulfilling his warning and smashing her nose against his armor.

“I did not hear a scream,” he said.

“I...left it back on the ground.” Ryel said, gasping before adding, “Lord Kindel.”

“I see.” he said, turning to consider his next target, then took a running leap toward the next boulder, then another leap toward a steep face. There, he pinned himself between a thin crevice and ascended by pressing his arms and legs against the sides. Using this technique, he ascended the small cliff in a manner which resembled the movements of some sort of insect. When he reached the top, he grabbed the lip with both of his arms and heaved himself over the edge. Ryel had heard of the lords' brute strength yet had never seen it in action. By the time he set her down, her legs were quaking. Though the ascent had been brief, it had been terrifying and incredible. Though he stood poised and regal, he had moved like a beast.

“When you recover,” he said, “I want you to follow me.”

Ryel took a few controlled breaths to seize her trembling, then she stood up and nodded. He lead her toward a strange sight: in the distance, a small ridge ran across the horizon ahead of her, running from her left to the right. It was limned with a series of tall stone spikes that seemed to curve inward toward some center she could not see, as if the ridge were part of an enormous ring. As they approached, their scale dawned upon her. Each spike must have been the height of fifty men. And unlike the jagged boulders which littered the area, they were perfectly uniform as if they had been sculpted. How did she not see these citadels earlier? He waited for her up ahead between two of the spikes. An ominous distant storm loomed behind him, its dark clouds accentuating the beautifully glimmering coronas on his mask.

“Tell me what you see.” he thrummed softly as she came up beside him. There was a foreboding somberness to his tone.

Ryel followed the ridge of spikes to her right and watched as they gradually turned left, then circled around until the ridge ended at her right. As she had suspected, they were arranged in a perfect ring, a ring so wide it would take all day to traverse its circumference even if one were to use a carriage. In the middle of the ring was a curious sight. The ground gradually funneled toward the center of the ring, dropping so far that shadows covered the bottom. Hiding in the shadows at the center of the funnel was a small hill covered in trees. As the sun continued to rise, its rays licked the tops of the branches and cast the spikes' shadows across the massive bowl. It was beautiful, yet surreal. The sheer scale of the phenomenon made her dizzy with vertigo. She could even see small clouds of fog blanketing the trough around the hill at the bottom. Tell me what you see.

Ryel knew he was not talking about what her eyes saw, so she shut them. The gaps were all around her, pulsing with potential yet still hidden from her touch. Yet she perceived something unusual about the way they inhabited this area. “Gaps....” she said, “There are...unusual ones, they are deeper than the others.”

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“Deeper?” Lord Kindel repeated.

“Deeper...or bigger.” Ryel said, “I cannot tell. They just seem to have more...'depth' to them. I think I have seen them before...or sensed similar gaps. Lord Kindel, you once said I could think of gaps as having a 'color'. If I said these were red gaps, then I would say they are redder here than I have ever seen them elsewhere...” she cringed at her awkward phrasing, “I feel...if I were able to see them with my eyes and move closer to them, I would see the red gaps separate into its own spectrum, see it split into its different 'shades'.”

“Very good...” Lord Kindel said, “I am impressed, Ryel. Do you know what kind of gaps they are?”

“I...am afraid not.” Ryel said ruefully.

“The gaps you are referring to, the ones which dominate this place are temporal,” he said, looking out over the funnel, “as you know, temporal gaps allow a practitioner to glimpse the past. They can be found all over Sacrin, yet most give only vague impressions of our history. Here, they are vivid with memories Now tell me, what do you see? Using your eyes I mean.”

“Well...I assume the spikes are man-made?” she hedged.

“Wrong,” Lord Kindel said, “but continue.” Again, there was melancholy in his voice, a strange hint of sadness that she had not been accustomed to hearing in a Nikral.

“Well...if it is not man-made,” she said, “then I assume it is a caldera of a long-dead volcano or...no. Calderas are shaped more like a basin. This almost appears to be a perfect funnel, except for the hill at the bottom. So I perhaps it is some sort of large sinkhole? Beyond that...I do not see anything.”

“Fair guesses. Both are wrong, but fair,” Lord Kindel said as he stepped out to the edge of the incline and gestured over the ring. His intoxicating voice adopting a respectful cadence as he continued. “What you do not see is the city of Koebel. By the standards of cities, it was not big. Yet it had beauty to make up for its lack of size. For many leagues, travelers could see its towering gyres of obsidian and quarts stonework gracing the skyline. When the evening sun began its descent, the quartz was said to glow like The Grand Spikes and glimmer as if they were on fire. Over there!” he pointed to something in the air, speaking with enthusiasm and awe “A spring gushed forth from the side of the cliff and cascaded down the columnar wall, splitting into their own waterfalls! As it struck the columns it would send up a mist, that revealed rings of color in the afternoon sun! The columnar gave way to smooth stone troughs, which children used as slides, laughing as they splashed into the lake at the bottom!”

Lord Kindel's enthusiasm continued to mount, his cadence thrumming in the air until Ryel thought she could feel the vibrations from his voice. His finger followed his narration, pointing to different points of nothingness in the air. Suddenly, the beauty of the ring seemed forlorn. Lord Kindel's passionate narration seemed to prescribe a sullen emptiness to the deprived area, and accentuated the silence of the depression. The towering spikes leaned in a perpetual state of mourning as they wept shadows across the circle. Even the various birds which circled the sunken ground seemed to duck their heads low in respect.

“Would you like to see it?” Lord Kindel asked, looking down at her.

“I...” Ryel was not sure she wanted to, “I would.”

He nodded then turned his gaze toward the funnel. Time appeared without transition as a ribbon of light hanging from the sky, opening outward like curtains before them to reveal the past. The ridge, the ring of spikes disappeared from sight and the ground fell away beneath them. Ryel found herself floating impossibly above a street of cobbled mosaics even though her feet told her she was still standing on solid ground. She was flanked on both sides by brick and mortar homes as numerous Kel bustled beneath her, speaking a language she could not comprehend. She panicked for a moment at the sudden transition, but Lord Kindel caught her arm to steady her.

“We are still standing on the ridge.” he said, “We are not physically present in the time depicted. Step forward too much, and you will tumble into the depression.”

“Of course...” she said, looking ahead.

As soon as she saw the sights Lord Kindel had described, she felt tears coming to her eyes. A small mountain with a gently sloping back rose before her. Its arch arose gradually before abruptly dropping off into cliff in the shape of a claw. All along the mountain's back arose a series of interconnected towers formed of brick and mortar. The bricks were as the lord described, carved of polished obsidian, hundreds of glimmering black facets twinkling in the light. Gyres of quarts ornately decorated the mountainside, glistening like glazed snow and ice as they teased the sun's light.

A spring burst from the overhanging cliff and fell in slow motion before striking an upheaval of hexagonal stone columns, scattering into small waterfalls which cascaded down the miniature terraces. Mist arose in wisps, revealing a rainbow accentuated by the cliff's shadow. The columns disappeared into a slope of smooth stone, interrupted occasionally by naturally formed channels, which several children were using as slides, screaming as they splashed into the cold water. Parents danced their laughing infants on the shallow shores. Music...she could hear music playing from a tavern behind her, songs which had been lost to time. The Kel themselves...they looked different, their snouts were less pronounced. Their ears, while still bisected, seemed to be shorter than hers.

“If we were to traverse this ring,” Lord Kindel said, “we would see wonders. The streets of Koebel were canvases. When you walk among them, you travel their stories. You would see travelers stop in the middle of the streets simple to gawk at the masterpieces which lay at their feet. The inhabitants would scream at them to move or get run over by the various now-extinct species they used as mounts. Their buildings, their walls, their fountains...were all an exercise in harmony and color. No pigments used, just stone, because stone is immortal.”

He gestured to the countless glittering mosaics in the streets, forming a pixelated narration to a story long lost. Sandstone bricks set the walls aflame with varying shades of red and orange, and the occasional aura of blue. Veins of green, violet, and blue raced along the roofing tiles. Every surface appeared to be carved, etched, or shaped to such intricacy it invited scrutiny and delighted the senses. Every display seemed to tell its own story. Ryel had never thought stonework could be so warm and filled with life. She had always thought it to be cold and mute. But Koebel was an explosion of color. They had captured the sunset in clay, the night sky in obsidian and amethyst, winter frost in quartz. When Lord Kindel dismissed the illusion, she almost broke. The vacant funnel which abruptly replaced the wonderful town seemed like a blasphemy, an insult to its very memory. It was wrong.

“Looters have come here and salvaged almost every remnant of Koebel.” Lord Kindel lamented, “But it was sites like this that caused my ancestors to fall in love with your world. Koebel's Grave is a pilgrimage site for many of my kind.”

“Lord Kindel...” Ryel said after she took a moment to recover herself. “I did not notice these spikes in the vision.”

“No.” Lord Kindel said, “the teeth were not here during that age.”

Teeth...

Ryel looked around at the towering sentinels and at the funnel which they surrounded. Then she turned around and looked back at the way they had come, back at all the jagged rocks which haphazardly littered the planes, growing more sparse the further out her eyes went. As if...as if some calamity had tossed them like debris far from the ring of spikes. When she thought of them as debris, she began to notice the small dips in the fields surrounding the depression. Long ago they could have been fractures in the ground whose edges had been softened by time. Ryel felt her mind going numb as it refused to comprehend the ground on which she stood, refused to comprehend what the funnel and the ring of spikes really were.

“Yes, child,” Lord Kindel said, “we stand on the grave of a once wondrous city. But we also stand on the grave of another. These spikes were once the teeth of Xyan, the mountain-eater. We stand at the brim of its mouth.”

She could not speak. It was one thing to study the colossi in books, to consider them as part of an academic exercise. But it was another to stand on the brim of this vast, circular valley and be told it was simply a mouth. No minds were made to comprehend such scale, it was too terrifying to believe. The ground beneath her feet seemed to pitch on its axis, as if the foundations which upheld Sacrin had become unstable and were on the verge of collapse. How could anybody be safe from such creatures? What kind of horrors had her ancestors faced?

“I...I....” Ryel stuttered.

“There is nothing like seeing...is there?” Lord Kindel thrummed, “seeing with your own eyes the horror of these creatures.”

“You could say that,” Ryel laughed nervously.

“I could show you the day Xyan emerged and began to devour Koebel. But there was not much to witness, for you would be able to see very little,” the Nikral said, “but instead, I will describe it to you, as it was very brief and very quick. You would see and hear the ground rattling, then you would hear it crack. Fissures ran along the streets and cleaved buildings, sections of Koebel began to rise while others began to fall, as if the foundations of Koebel had become liquid. Then the air exploded with dirt, dust, and rock. You would become blind to anything else. You would hear Xyan's grinding but you would be unable to see anything through the cloud of devastation. It is doubtful the denizens of Koebel even knew what happened to them. They perhaps thought it was tectonic tremors that quaked their homes.”

Lord Kindel turned to face her, “Some of my kind will take their students to see the colossi for themselves, to plant an image in their heads as a reminder of what we do for you. Instead, I chose to take you here, to show you what those beasts have taken from us and what they will take from us again if they are given a chance.”

“I never questioned your people, Lord Kindel.” she trembled at his implication.

“No, you have not.” he admitted, “but you may. When the Feast of Retribution transpires, you will see us do things that will disgust you. You will see your kind hunted like game, captured, and slaughtered. This will be a test for you, and it will not be an easy one. You have never seen a Nikral shift. You may have heard the stories, but like your experience today, no description can match the experience of seeing the shift. We will change when the feast begins, and you will see a side you have only heard about told in stories meant to frighten children. My bringing you here is a gift, a reminder that we do care deeply about Iris. This...” he raised an arm toward the funnel, “is but one of Xyan's many graves. It is still out there inhabiting a new form, waiting to come back onto land. If it were not for the masters who vigilantly wield the totem walkers, perhaps another village would follow in Koebel's footsteps.”

She knew treasonous Kel warranted death, even if she could not conceive of carrying out such an act. But it was true that she had reservations about the manner in which the lords planned to execute them. To hunt other people like animals was inconceivable to her. But what could Kel do? The lords had their reasons for such brutality, even if they did not need those reasons. They were the only people who could defend Iris, that alone entitled them to almost anything. The fact that her people were not simply subjugated seemed to be an act of generosity.

“I will...admit some trepidation.” Ryel said softly, “About the feasts, I mean. I do not want to watch anybody be killed. It sickens me. I will also admit that I have wondered why your people will not let us near the Grave Shores to see what you fight, or why you do not bring more of my people here and show what you have shown me. But I know the Grave Shores are dangerous. And I...think my people would secretly call your demonstration here a deception. Many of them have grown lax and will not listen to reason. You give us your protection, you share with us your lore. The Feasts will disgust me and if I thought begging would change the lords' minds, I would. But I am loyal to the Nikral. I may doubt you, I may even fear you but I will always be loyal. If this should ever change, then I deserve to be among those you slaughter.”

It was difficult to know what went through Lord Kindel's mind as he considered her through those dark holes in his mask. Though she had no doubt he was scrutinizing her, judging her worthiness, analyzing her words. Then he turned around and began to walk back the path they came. She did not need him to order her to follow. As he did before, he allowed her to ride on his back as he navigated the rocks. When they got back to the carriage, they set off for Entu Province to meet with Lord U'shal.