Levan awoke with a jolt, Hyrum knelt over him gesturing with his head. Levan followed the silent instruction and sat up in his bed roll, “You have the watch, remember what we told you. It will be of higher importance now more than ever.” Hyrum whispered.
Levan rubbed his groggy eyes, his vision still blurry from the influx of images that flooded his eyes. He stood and grabbed his sword belt putting it on he went over to a stone pile and sat atop it. Looking around their makeshift camp, he saw that the fire had gone out, its embers shone with a blueish hue to them, the white smoke turned into a more normal grayish black. Ibilsin lay in his bedroll, his shoulders moving up and down as he slept, Hyrum was next to him getting into his own bedroll. Renelle lay on the other side of the fire, her body was almost completely still, save for the subtle rise and fall of her chest.
Yawning Levan continued to rub his eyes trying to clear his vision, though he still couldn’t do anything about the whispers and screams that filled the air of the Expanse. They were intrusive even while he slept, he could still hear the screams. Are these screams from lost people? Or are they other types of monsters? Levan racked his brain trying to make sense of the realm between realms, but nothing he could conjure made sense. Though perhaps this place was not meant to be understood. Or maybe it was only meant for those who came before, the Fae.
As Levan looked out over the inky sea, its waves thrashing against the stone harder and harder, he couldn’t help but wonder what lay below the waves. Who was the figure aboard the ship that sailed the ink sea, was he a lost soul or something else entirely. Either way Levan didn’t think he’d get an answer to that question, or any of the other questions he had about the Expanse. The place seemed ripe with mystery and questions wanting to be answered, yet there were no answers to find or clues to decipher.
Even as Levan sat, he felt as if he was being watched, by some force invisible to him. It sent a chill down his spine; he turned his head constantly looking for that discombobulating force but everywhere he looked all he saw was gray stone pillars and inky water. He expected something, anything to change when he passed over it again, but it never did. The view remained the same, which to be sure was a good thing, but it still unnerved Levan, he anticipated the views to change even if just slightly.
Somehow, the Expanse became more eerie when he was the only one awake. Every feeling was amplified, each scream, each blow of the wind, each wave was more intense. Part of him wished that they had just continued through the Expanse, at this point he wanted to just be rid of the place and its eerie horror. He had a constant chill running down his back, even though nothing was changing. The feeling that he was being watched never dissipated, if anything it got stronger.
Levan jumped off the rock pile he was on and started to pace around the small campsite. Trying everything he could to keep his mind off of the whispers and screams of the Expanse, but all of his attempts were futile. They penetrated his thoughts at all times, even though he couldn’t see where the voices came from. Continuing his pacing of the campsite he looked out into the pathways created by the stone. He wasn’t able to remember which path they had come down to get to this point, but he had confidence that Hyrum and Renelle knew where they were going. Even after all Renelle had told him he still didn’t know if he could fully trust her.
She had used every opportunity given to her to show that she was trustworthy, and while she had shown in those instances that she was there for him and subsequently Ibilsin, Levan still had a thought scratch the back of his head. What if she was the one I should be avoiding, what if what she said was all an elaborate lie? He didn’t dare to voice those concerns to Hyrum, but perhaps he could now confide those feelings in Ibilsin, Surely, he feels the same about her as I do. She’s been nothing but distant, how can we trust her if she can’t even answer simple questions?
While Levan paced, he could hear a tapping sound, like that of metal to stone, the sound stopped him in his tracks. His head snapped around searching for the originator of the sound but yet again there was no change in the view. But the tapping got louder, Levan put his hand to the hilt of his sword gripping it tightly, but the tapping continued to get louder. And closer.
Levan drew his sword the steel singing against the metal reinforcement on the scabbard, he gripped the hilt with two hands pointing the tip of the blade outward toward the pathway he stared down. As he watched the pathway the tapping grew louder and louder, it sounded like it was right beside him. He turned his head, but nothing was there, when he returned his gaze to the pathway a figure stood in it. Levan’s heart was racing, he tried to yell but no words came out. The figure brought itself into the light of the campsite, they were abnormally thin and wore an olive-green garment that was done up with buttons.
The man was pale near bone white, his face was gaunt, his cheeks sunken with tired heavy eyes that had a blue green hue. His black hair was combed neatly to one side, but the individual strands were wiry and oily. He had a large beaklike nose that protruded from his thin face. He was slender and tall, his extremities like sticks of a large tree. Yet his clothes fit him immaculately, as if they were specifically designed for him, his olive-green jacket buttoned with only one of the two buttons lay over a similarly colored waistcoat and that over an ivory shirt. His trousers were the same olive green, and they fit his skinny legs perfectly, tapering toward the bottom near his brown leather shoes.
In his hands he held a large book, its pages were a bright green, the cover a pinkish hue and stitched together. Levan didn’t want to admit what material held this man’s horrid book together. The man opened the book, the letters written inside were a light blue that reminded Levan of the sky during midsommer, he took a pen made of what Levan could only imagine was bone. The tip of the pen hovered over the page, and suddenly the man’s sunken eyes were on him, his face expressing no discernible emotion.
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“Hello, Levan Anzorov.” the man said, when he spoke, he spoke quietly and calmly, an inquisitive hold on all of his words.
Levan could do nothing but stare, tightening his grip on the sword. The man looked quickly to his hands and back up to him.
“There is no need for violent reactions, Mr. Anzorov. I do not wish to harm you or your companions.”
Levan again tried to yell to wake up the others, but nothing came out
“We needn’t disturb their rest, Mr. Anzorov.”
Levan’s entire body began to shake, his heart raced, and his stomach flipped and churned as he stared down the man.
As he stared him down the man smacked his lips and shook his head, “My apologies, Mr. Anzorov, I should introduce myself. That was rather selfish of me to not. I am called the Journaler.”
Levan narrowed his eyes to the Journaler, “What do you want?”
“I just need to know your reason for being in the Expanse, Mr. Anzorov. I assure you that I do not intend any ill-will toward you or your companions.”
“Why ask me and not them?” Levan asked.
The Journaler rested his pen in the book and snapped it shut, “Ms. Qouvard and Mr. am Jameel, this is not there first time traveling through the Expanse. But for you, well this would be your second time through.”
“So, what’s important about that?” Levan continued his interrogation.
“I would not say that it is of importance, but I am curious to the purpose of your being here?” the Journaler responded.
“Can I say nothing?” Levan asked.
“If you wish.” the Journaler said, his voice keeping the same tone, “But I would urge you to give a reason, I do not wish to waste my time asking you this each time I see you.”
“What do you mean?”
The Journaler opened his book once more, flipping through the pages, after finding the page he wanted he used his finger to trace some lines as his eyes followed it, “Here it tells me this will not be your last venture into the Expanse.”
“How do you know that?”
“It is my job to know.” the Journaler responded.
Levan lowered his sword, looking up at the tall gaunt man. He couldn’t gather any information about him.
“I understand your hesitance, Mr. Anzorov.” the Journaler said, “But I assure you, I am not here to harm you.”
“I’ve heard that before.” Levan said with a roll of his eyes.
“Hmm, yes I am sure you have.” the Journaler replied, “Ms. Qouvard has a certain way with words, safe to say that she is not the most candid of people. Though her mission is true and righteous. It would behoove you to follow her instruction.”
“How do you know Renelle? How did you know we were here?” Levan couldn’t stop himself from asking questions, even though he knew he should just send the man away.
“Ms. Qouvard and Mr. am Jameel are frequent travelers of the Expanse, as many like them are. But I know of your arrival to this place by my coworkers, as much as I may dislike him, he is good at what he does.”
“Your coworkers?”
The man nodded, flipping through his book once again. He stopped on a page and flipped his book around to show Levan the page. Levan was about to apologize to the man as he didn’t know how to read but each word on the page he could understand, the picture that took up the entirety of the left page was painted in black and white, likely the ink from the ocean below. How? I’ve never known how to read before this, what is happening?
“The Expanse is a strange realm, Mr. Anzorov. Your being here grants you the ability of all humanity. Reading is just a simple tool and is easily learned, but as many of you do not know how to use the tool, the Expanse makes up for this fault. These words change and morph for whomever reads them, conforming to them alone. Allowing you to understand its contents.”
Levan stood in shock; the words were so clear, yet he still didn’t understand them really. The image was the more intriguing portion to him anyways, it showed an image of a similarly dressed man to the Journaler, but he did not wear a waist coat, rather a jacket and trousers with a buttoned shirt. He wore a tie of some sort around his neck that ran down the shirt, and wore a patched flat cap. In his arms he held plaques, each plaque had an inscription on them, but Levan didn’t know what they were or what they represented. Beneath the image was written The Runekeeper.
The right page had a large excerpt written about him: The Runekeeper, a young man, pale of skin, ebony of hair and eye. The keeper and crafter of Runes. The hunter of Kraken and Whale. The first of us. The Last of us.
“I do not understand.” Levan admitted.
The book flipped around again as the Journaler retracted his hand, flipping back through the pages to where he set his pen, “That is because you are not meant to. This place is not meant to be understood, not even by myself or coworkers. Even, Runekeeper does not fully understand this place.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I have been selected.”
“Selected?”
The Journaler nodded. Levan continued to wrack his brain, Krakens, whales, runes, what the hell do those have do with anything?
“I cannot answer that for you, Mr. Anzorov.” The Journaler said.
Levan looked up with a building frustration, “Stop doing that.” he commanded.
“Of course, I do apologize.” he said, “But in the future perhaps you will consider keeping your interior thoughts, truly interior.”
Levan shook his head, the Journaler reminded him much of Renelle and how whenever he was given advice it would always lead to more questions than answers. Levan looked back at the Journaler, he had picked up his pen again, which hovered over the page, the bright blue ink stuck to the nub awaiting to release onto the page.
“I apologize for the change of conversation. But might you now offer your reason for being here?”
Levan shrugged, “Sure, I guess. We’re going somewhere.”
The man shook his head, “Not your group, you.”
“Because Renelle told me to follow her.” Levan said.
The Journaler placed his pen down once again and shut his book, “You have taken my question too literally, Mr. Anzorov. I understand you currently do not know your purpose for being here. I shall come another time, when you return to the Expanse.”
Before Levan could respond the Journaler he turned and disappeared into the dark pathway. As Levan stared down the pathway, he couldn’t help but think about the question. What was his purpose being here if not to travel to wherever Renelle wanted them to go next? Was he truly taking the question too literally, if so, what did the Journaler want him to say? Did he want him to admit that he was the Xilaskar, or that he was destined to save the world?
Levan couldn’t shake the thought for the remainder of his watch. When the rest awoke, he told Hyrum that nothing had happened while he was on the watch. Levan got the notion that if he was honest with them that they would do something he didn’t want to happen. So, he held his tongue, for now.