Chapter 10 - Hollowbrook

A colossal chasm loomed high in the starless sky, stretching across the unlit expanse like an unhealed wound. Orange and blue sparks lined the fringe of the tear, flickering in and out at unpredictable frequencies. Shimmering rays of light peeked from this incongruous breach in the sky, their subdued radiance illuminating the world beneath.

Vern simply stared wide-eyed at the grand display. Did this tear always exist? He just never saw it as someone without subjective eyes? No, that doesn’t add up.

Stars were twinkling through the veil—this dimly lit ambiance of the world a sum of all their parts. This must be what covered the atmosphere at the start of all this.

But he didn’t remember seeing the tear before everyone was pulled into that nightmare. What exactly went down that such a massive incision opened up in the sky? What was going on with the world?

It had been just another day. Whenever a phenomenon on such a scale happens, there are signs. Things change, and people notice. In Calidian Empire, there were more than a few organizations that closely monitored Prima for all sorts of things to predict natural disasters.

Verdant order looked out for floods and wildfires, while Earth Wardens warned about earthquakes, landslides, and eruptions. Then there was the Royal Aethereology Society which usually announced eclipses, solar flares, and the like.

None of them had noticed anything? Even with subjectivity and observation in the equation, it didn’t add up. According to the age of that book, the concept of observation had existed for at least a few hundred years. Then, it’d be more than a stretch to attribute this anomaly to subjectivity.

Peeking another glance at Ariane to ensure her well-being, his eyes involuntarily drifted off to the scholars lying on the stairs—on the brink of being reduced to cinders. He thought of possible outcomes of attempting to help them and came up with more than a few detrimental ones. In simpler terms, he wouldn’t risk it.

If assisting them meant putting Ariane at risk, he just would not take the chance. What if he initiated another monochrome vision to form a vacuum pocket for these people, but it replaced Ariane’s?

He liked to test and experiment, but that didn’t mean he would play with his sister’s life for some random people he’d never met. They were just too far down in his priority list compared to her.

However, this brought his attention to something peculiar. One of the women who was about to meet the flames had her eyes open, and this reminded him. When he came to, more than a few people were blankly staring ahead, wide-eyed. So, these people with open eyes tried to glance at that entity too?

What differentiated his case from theirs? If it was as simple as mustering the courage to look at the thing, he doubted he would be the first in the lot to do so. A reasonable guess would be to attribute it to the diagram or the Fundamentals. Being a Savant, his grasp of fundamentals was leagues ahead of these scholars, but he didn’t see how that could have impacted anything in this particular situation.

The Diagram, on the other hand, was pretty much meant for enlightenment. Could it be that prior exposure to the subjectivity of the diagram allowed him to look at the entity longer than others? But was that alone sufficient? It seemed like a probable conclusion, but not the full picture.

His list of assumptions, conjectures, and hunches was only growing longer by the second. The lack of a notepad to write down all of it gnawed at his very being. He liked to put things on paper because memory was a frail thing, and hedging too much on it was a fool’s errand.

Shaking off the distractions, he looked back at the streets. Many people that hid inside buildings at the start were back on the streets, probably after panicking from their newfound blindness. Hundreds were lying on the streets in poor shape. Quite many were bruised and battered, while few were losing blood by the second from their hard falls. A couple of really unfortunate ones, however, ended up too close to the steam and met a gruesome fate, their bodies scalded to unrecognition.

A puff of steam endlessly churned out from within the hands of Kingsmen, who had joined the ranks of everyone else, lying prone on the solid ground. Just like commoners, albeit a little more gracefully—perhaps due to their previous kneeling postures. At least there is no all-consuming fire out there.

As for his other objective of checking the library’s exterior? There was no way to achieve such a simple thing. He couldn’t walk an inch farther, or he ran the risk of dispelling the vacuum. There were no mirrors that just happened to be in the position to catch a glimpse at the state of the building from outside either.

So he just stopped and stared at the gloomy city. After all, the archive’s second floor was higher than most residences.

It was disastrous. He knew the adrenaline was keeping his mind too active to feel it, and he had yet to come to terms with the whole situation, but the sheer horror and scale of this event was catastrophic. Just how many could escape the clutches of that being before this ended? Would it even end?

This appeared like a worldwide phenomenon, and its effects would be much more than some incapacitated people getting bruised from falling on the pavement. Anything that needed active monitoring would fail. Trains would collide, ships would sink, factories would explode…No. This is downright tragic.

His conjectures only hammered home the severity of this situation. Who knew how long he would have lasted within that world of terror, but he wouldn't bet on being able to hold on for more than an hour. He was convinced that with every passing minute, millions were succumbing to that thing. Losing their rationality forever.

More than a few hundred were already breathing their last in this very library. Scholars he would have argued against and listened to in only a few days at the conference. The whole Fundamentalism would lose so many bright talents, any and all evolution halting in its place.

The world, as he knew it, was gone.

His colleagues and friends back at Nvoria, whom he had spent his last four years debating and learning with, might never see the light of the day again. His master could probably handle it for quite a while, but what about his wife and son? That man would break if anything happened to his family.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

He didn’t know if he should feel lucky about not having to worry about any other family members in this tragedy.

Vern heaved a long sigh and settled down in a spot amidst the raging inferno, its flickering light casting a forlorn glow onto his sharp features. Drawing his knees towards his chest, he wrapped his arms around his body and stared into the gaping void that hung high in the sky. Every blink seemed to linger for a fraction longer than last as the fire burned away.

----------------------------------------

Rowan finally looked away from the newly formed crack in the heavens and focused back at the goddess in white that floated above the church. Her radiance was too dazzling. He felt like it was easier to look at the sun than stare at her majesty. But that was just how it was meant to be. After all, she was the servant of Lady Lennix herself.

He had never seen a deity before today, but in his heart, he had always believed that his faith was not in vain. That there would come a day when his devotion would not go unnoticed. That Tailor Bismile had always chided him for being too superstitious, yet there he was, shaking like a leaf as he knelt amongst everyone else.

The whole town had gathered in front of the church to receive the words of the goddess. Then suddenly, she made a move. It was as if the light falling off of the great chasm in the sky bent to her will. Her shake of a finger made changes his brain couldn’t comprehend. Why would he be able to comprehend? This was divine. Not for mere mortals like him to understand.

After the world finally settled back down from her short movement, the priest spoke with great fervor.

“My children, due to the descent of an indomitable evil, the rest of the world has embarked into an epoch of abyssal darkness. Yet, our city stands as the sole bastion that still bathes in the celestial radiance of our lady. Praise be to Lady!”

“Praise be to Lady!”

“Praise be to Lady!!”

The whole crowd around him, including Rowan, thundered back with great vigor as they maintained their kneeling postures. Some were shaking with joy, barely able to look at the white goddess, while others began chanting the verses from the luminous litany. This was the holiest his town had ever been.

Praise be to Lady, for she’s just and fair. She knew her faithful ones and decided to reward them for their belief.

Their town of Hollowbrook was the only one that did not lose the light of the heavens beyond, while those heretics would live on in eternal darkness. The great gash must have only been opened for the townsfolk to bask in the glory of the lady herself.

Rowan didn’t know exactly what had happened to the world, nor did he care. Those making use of the sinister devices made by the blasphemers didn’t deserve his pity anyway. What he did know, however, was that lady had shown her grace. So her servant, this goddess in white, must have come with a task for us faithful ones.

And he was right. In another one of her enigmatic movements, the world changed, and motes of lights fell from the sky. No, no, no. It was holier than that. These were divine. These lights took the shape of white lotus flowers as they slowly fell from the sky.

Rowan jumped and grabbed himself the first of these divine blessings before everyone joined in, frantically grabbing at the radiant flowers. Heh. These fake devotees don’t even understand what the goddess wants.

One of the women that didn’t manage to find herself a flower, prostrated and began striking her forehead on the ground. Incompetent fool!

But that thought threw him for a loop. No. Maybe he was the incompetent one for only grabbing one flower.

He should find himself another. Snatch it from these insincere bastards. If he did that, the goddess might show more grace to him. Yes! Yes! Goddess will like it. However, before he could perform this magnificent demonstration of faith, the priest bellowed.

“Goddess has spoken. Everyone must pray for the light. Pray for the light.”

“Pray for the light.”

“Pray for the light.”

Then before Rowan could resume his portrayal of dedication, the goddess disappeared. A beam of light streaked down south towards the river, leaving behind a dazzling trail that faded by the second.

But she had yet to see his sublime display of deep faith. Why did she leave like that? But it didn’t matter either, he would get himself more flowers and then find the goddess. She must know. She must realize his expression of unwavering conviction.

Rowan didn’t have his tools from the shop, but that didn’t matter. As he sincerely prayed for light with the glowing lotus in one hand, he grabbed a sharp rock from the ground with the other. Not delaying his grand gesture of faith, he jammed the sharp edge of that rock in Bismile’s head.

Bismile looked at him with an unfocused gaze and was about to commit the blasphemy of letting the flower drop to the ground, but Rowan caught it with his other hand. He now had two flowers. Would goddess praise him now? She will. No doubt she will.

He looked around and noticed the woman fervently pummelling her head into the ground. She must be a heretic. Her dirty blood flowed in the grooves of the pavement, staining these holy grounds.

How dare she!? Then before Rowan could set things straight, the priest, the only other real believer did it for him. He crushed her head to a pulp in a powerful downward blow of his staff.

Rowan wanted to sing his praises, but he couldn’t stop praying for the light. That would be utterly unacceptable. There were a few other fervent ones that removed these pests and took their flowers, but Rowan would be the first one to get to the goddess and gain her favor.

So he walked out of this irreverent crowd, but something tried to steal his flower. That grocer Herman’s kid had stabbed a broken glass in his thigh, reaching out to steal his flower. Rowan kicked the thing to the ground and smashed the thing’s head into a broken mess in a few seconds.

No one would interrupt his expression of loyalty. NO ONE! Chanting the prayer of light with two flowers in hand, he ran towards the river. Goddess was definitely still here. Her glow was evident by the river. There was no chance in heaven she would leave without rewarding him for his efforts.

So, he ran. Ran towards the river. Not once did he stop running, and not once did he stop chanting. He was devout like that. So when he reached the verdant foliage that bordered the riverbank, his footsteps only grew firmer. Her beaming radiance lit the shadowy trees, and when he finally saw her outline, he slowed down.

Slowly walking towards the shimmering rays that peeked through the shades of these trees, his mind whirled. He didn’t understand. What? What had happened? Why?

But why did he? No, he had to show his loyalty. But why did he do that? Bismile was like his brother. But why did Bismile not give the flower to him? Rowan didn’t understand. His mind felt heavy, and he needed light. I shouldn’t have ventured into the shade. The heaven’s light doesn’t reach here. But then he wouldn’t be able to show his loyalty to the goddess.

Before he could make sense of his jumbled memories, it came into view. The goddess was standing at the bank of the river, under the torn sky—her arms wide apart, reaching for the heavens. Hundreds of motes of light slowly manifested all around her as the flowers in Rowan’s hand turned into streaks of light, disappearing from his hands.

The motes of light grew more prominent and material. Some of them changed form, turning into the familiar shape of lamps. Some turned into candles, some resembled the moon, and some mirrored lanterns.

Few were those steam machinery, while the rest must be something made by those heretic fundamentalists. All these things surrounded the goddess in their spectral white glow. These glowing apparatuses occupied more than two plots worth of land.

Rowan wanted to go up to her and explain how he had managed to find himself two flowers, but he didn’t want to interrupt her. However, why did he want to express his loyalty with flowers? Before Rowan could come to a decision or realization, the radiance of the world shifted.

The spectral devices turned blazing white, but even in this saturated vista, she remained brighter. Just like every time she moved, the light itself bent for her, and she gently united her palms, creating a whisper of a clap.

The world turned white, and he heard her voice which resounded like ethereal melodies, stirring the very depths of his soul. “I see you all.”

And then it turned black.