One year before the awakening of James Island

The town of Culwhurt was distinguished by the shell that housed it. A town had been built within the enormous framework of a crashed warship; a relic from the Great Wars that had torn the galaxy apart centuries ago. Tallas had seen two Great War Ships before, during his years excavating sites, but they had both been at a distance. Up close, this particular ship resembled a mountain made of metal, with multiple sections that gave the impression of a cluster of connected buildings. At this proximity, he could hardly see the entirety of the ship; it was like trying to see a city by standing next to one building.

It amazed Tallas that life could find a way to thrive in the remains of a weapon of war and destruction. He appreciated the symbolism of hope for civilizations as he walked along the grassy outskirts of the town, beside a tall metal wall that contained two levels of market stalls. Square sections in the wall, which had likely once held window panes, let in the hot sunlight and allowed him to see inside. But his focus was on what was beyond the town; to a lake that marked his destination.

His heavy red robe was smothering under the harsh sun, particularly with his hood drawn low, but Tallas would not even consider removing his cloak. He’d been wearing the red robe for two years, since he’d left the island where he’d trained with Lirri, and felt comfortable in wearing his only link to the mentor he’d lost. While Tallas knew that he didn’t deserve to wear the outer robe of a Red Monk, he wanted it as a reminder of what he’d done–what he’d taken from the galaxy–and hoped to find some strength and resolve in the old garment.

Grief and sorrow weighed on him heavily each day. He vowed to himself that Lirri’s death would not be in vain, and had devoted his days to fulfilling her last words: find Menas. It had taken Tallas many months to begin a path that led to any semblance of answers and clarity. He still didn’t know why Lirri had asked him to find her god, but he was less focused on the ‘why’. A part of him knew the reason would be clear once he found Menas.

The prospect of actually meeting a real god had been stoking a burning ambition in him for years, mixing excitement with the dull ache of loss and sorrow.

His sandals crunched on the stony cracked earth as he came to a small hut of mud and straw, set against the bronzed wall of the Great War Ship. The town of Culwhurt, on the equator of the planet Bundhobabi, was home to a short-statured people called Bodins. A particularly old Bodin, hunched and wrinkled, came out of the hut and scrutinized Tallas with overly large eyes that were narrowed with mistrust. Like the other Bodin’s Tallas had seen, this one had a wide, oval head with large eyes very far apart, which reminded Tallas of a fish head. The old Bodin’s thick lips were tightly pressed together, under the long wispy strands of white hair that resembled a moustache.

The townsfolk were considered friendly from the outset, although were known to be weary of strangers. Two of them, who spoke basic Standard, had already strongly suggested Tallas should leave. From the way this old Bodin eyed him, he guessed that word of the robed stranger had gotten around.

Tallas raised his hands, carefully, and dropped his hood back. “I mean your people no harm.”

The glistening eyes of the old Bodin had a startling depth to them that spoke of a high intelligence. “Our concerns are not with ourselves.” His gruff voice was accented, but he spoke Standard surprisingly well. He looked beyond the town to a section of rising rocks that led to the lake on the other side. “We know why you are here.”

Tallas nodded as he squinted against the sun to gaze beyond the rocks. “And this concerns you?”

“The younger generations know stories of the strength of our people, from our exceptional life spans and vigour in our hearts. We tell of how we have been blessed by the planet that nourishes us. The elder generations do not speak of such things, for they know the truth of our blessing. The truth in the lake.”

This took Tallas back. He hadn’t expected anyone to know of what lay at the bottom of the lake. In the two years he’d spent learning about Menas, the Spirit God, he’d found there was surprisingly little official information on the deity. Lirri had worshipped the god, although had spoken very little of him. Through the research and information Tallas had gathered while travelling the galaxy, he’d discovered that Menas was considered by some to be trapped within his realm. The devout followers of Menas believe there had been no signs of the god in the mortal realm for millennia. Some priests spoke of rivalry between the gods, and suspected Menas to be imprisoned somewhere. Others reluctantly admitted they believed Menas to be deceased, as much as godly beings could perish, although did not expand on the matter. Whatever the fate of Menas, wherever he was, Tallas was determined to discover the truth. He would fulfil Lirri’s final words, even if it took him a lifetime.

After spending most of his life as a man of science who considered gods and demons to be allegorical stories, Tallas still found it troubling to learn of the larger reality of existence. His belief in the gods had begun when he’d first studied the Gynen Crystals, but in the past few years he’d entered a world he could never have imagined existed. A world where he could potentially speak with a god who possessed the same powers that flowed through his own veins.

His investigation had led him to this town; to a lake that was said to contain a portal to the Spirit Realm. Tallas hadn’t expected the people of this town to know of such things.

“What can you tell me of the lake?” Tallas asked.

The Bodin rubbed at a stain on his tattered tunic, appearing distracted for a moment. “Only that which you know.”

“Do you fear me going in?”

A shoulder shrug and frown was the response. “You must do what you must. No one here can stop you. We fear that you will disrupt our fortunes.”

Tallas thought he was beginning to understand. “The power emanating from the lake. It’s been affecting your town. Your people. Given you longer, healthy lives.”

Something that could have been mistrust, or apprehension, passed over the old Bodin’s gleaming eyes. “Some say a god sleeps down there, and when he awakes, we will lose our prosperity. There has been one other person, in my lifetime, who has come here searching for the secrets of the lake. He was found drowned and horribly white, as though all colour from him had been removed.”

From one of the open windows to the side, Tallas noticed a group of young children watching him. The old Bodin’s eyes flickered to somewhere behind Tallas and he guessed there were more of them watching him; possibly waiting to see if he’d cause them any harm. Were they waiting for him to head for the lake? Would they try and stop him?

“Thank you.” Tallas stepped away from the hut. “I wish you and your people the highest of prosperity for many years to come.”

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The old Bodin simply nodded and watched Tallas leave with a sour look twisting his thick lips.

As Tallas stepped towards to the tall rocks that led around to the shoreline, he became aware of two things. The townsfolk would not stop him; and there was definitely something strong lingering in the air. The atmosphere felt charged; heated with an intensity that caught him by surprise, but was also fairly familiar. He was sure that Spirit Magic had embedded itself into this land, into the water and the air, and that the source of it was deep beneath the lake.

His final destination was a crack in reality under the lake; a portal that opened to the Spirit Realm itself. It had apparently been left open for millennia, unknown to many, and could only be entered by a master of Spirit Magic.

From what Tallas had gathered from two separate priests, any person who entered the realm must have complete faith in Menas and the power of Spirit. This meant the person would have to swim the depths without breathing aids. Like a leap of faith. He would have to enter the lake with his breath held and have faith that he’d find the portal. Not finding it was not an option. Dying was not an option. Tallas told himself that he did not fear death. He only feared not completing his mission. Above all, he needed to fulfil Lirri’s last words. He wanted to beg the Spirit God’s forgiveness for removing the last of the Red Monk’s from this life.

Tallas still had to exact his vengeance on Sacre, and seek to learn what their true plans were for the experiment that had changed his life, but he knew he would not be able to focus on anything else until he found the Spirit God. Something strongly compelled him to do so, like the power coursing through him was guiding his actions.

A conviction ebbed through him that told him he’d do anything, and go anywhere, to enter the Spirit Realm and make a discovery that had eluded many people for millennia. In a way, it was like searching for a lost relic in the ground, as though he was with his team on some remote planet on the brink of a great find. A thin smile came to him as he reflected on his old life, thinking of how far he’d come.

A warm breeze blew over Tallas as he climbed up a sloping rock formation and came up to stand on the edge, looking over the vast lake that spread out before him. Its glistening waters sparkled with flashes of light that caught the sun, which brought to mind the image of gems dotted around a cavern floor as he moved a flashlight over them.

Tallas paused a moment with a firm hesitation keeping his feet in place. What he was about to do would change everything. He hadn’t felt this apprehensive about anything since the experiment with the Restoration Gynen Crystal that had given him his incredible powers. Hopefully, those powers would see him to his goal.

The last time he’d made a promise to someone with all his heart, he’d failed. He’d promised Hannah they’d be together forever, and that they could overcome any problems that came to them. Tallas felt the moment his heart had broken as if it were breaking all over again. He’d stood there before Hannah, soaked and caked in mud, his hands empty that should have held the flowers that would have proven his love. Tallas, it’s too late. You didn’t lose the flowers, you lost me. That had been the last thing she’d said to him, all those years ago. Before tragedy ripped them apart.

After completing his breathing exercises to fill his lunges, Tallas cleared his mind and took a deep breath, and dove into the water. The rush of sudden water was jarring at first but he pushed himself down with strong strokes. His robes already felt heavy as he swam, deeper and deeper into the murky-blue world. Aside from the rough outlines of rock formations in the distance, the vibrant scales of small fish darting away from his descent were the only things he could see.

How far he had travelled and how long he’d been down there, Tallas couldn’t say. He just kept going. His muscles began to burn and his face grew hot; it was only a matter of time before he would pass out. The murkiness of the water blurred and wavered a moment, before he realised he was losing his vision. For a second, he thought he saw spots of light dance around him, but that could have been a few fish or perhaps him hallucinating.

The desperation to release a breath and gasp for air became so overwhelming that Tallas no longer was aware of his actions. He moved mechanically, just needing to get lower and lower, now in a world of cold darkness where the light couldn’t reach.

Surely, he would have found the entrance to the spirit realm by now. Surely, Menas would have blessed him with an audience.

One final thought ran through Tallas’s mind as the last of his strength left him and the overwhelming urge to find a breath fought against every muscle in his body. He had failed Lirri and would die down there.

As Tallas was sure he would pass out, his body growing numb, the sudden sensation of falling came over him. He became aware of actually falling; through the air within a dark space. He heaved and sputtered for desperate air as he fell for a long moment, before hitting solid ground. He lay there, gasping for breath, hardly aware of what was happening.

When he finally lifted his head, he saw he was in a cave of some kind. He expected to somehow see the bottom of the lake overhead, suspended in the air as a ceiling of water, but only darkness was above him. It wasn’t until his eyes adjusted to the gloomy cavern that he could make out different shapes against the darkness, like distant rock formations that jutted from the ground. As if the world was righting itself before his eyes, he saw now that the cavern roof was so far above him that it had the appearance of a vast sky. The walls that he’d thought were near were now as far as the horizon, giving him the impression he was under an incredibly large dome structure. The rocky terrain rose in low hills and rolled into valleys all around him, with some far-off structures that could be buildings, but also looked to be made of the same dusty brown, cracked rock.

The air was alive with the power of Spirit Magic which thrummed inside Tallas and jarred his aching bones. It was a sensation that had become as familiar to him as his own heartbeat, but was now intensified to a great degree. Rubbing his pained throat and trying to master himself, he winced and grimaced against the fierce air. He’d never felt such a raw power so fully over him like this, as though it were trying to bore into his flesh and tear him apart. He was sure that no mortal would last a second in this realm.

Taking a moment to find his balance, Tallas began to step through the barren land as he looked around, his wet boots splashing on the dry earth. Was this the Spirit Realm? He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but had thought there’d be more… light. Something holier and awe-inspiring. Not this vast empty world of rock and dust.

There was nothing there. Not even dead weeds.

It took him a moment to realise he was stepping towards a rock wall, which had been indistinguishable at a distance against the same-coloured horizon. This was a sheer rock wall that reached over two hundred meters up. Feeling his strength return and his head clearing up, Tallas bent and leapt up towards the cliff top.

His startling ascent shocked even him as he rocketed upwards, farther than he’d ever jumped before, and easily cleared the cliff edge. He landed lightly without issue, and understood that his Spirit power must be heightened here. He was surely in the Spirit Realm. But this didn’t feel right.

Ahead of him was an enormous throne structure with a high back, made out of a cracked, dry stone. The throne had a kingly, royal look to it, despite its rustic and decaying aesthetic. Tallas could see it was once magnificent, but had fallen into disarray for what he guessed to be centuries. Or millennia. Did those concepts exist to gods?

“Menas!” Tallas called out, as best as his hoarse throat managed. He threw his head to the distant ceiling and roared, “Menas!” His only response were echoes so distant and faint that he thought he might be imagining them.

This definitely wasn’t right.

It dawned on Tallas, like a great weight that fell on him and threatened to sink him into the depths of the rock, that he understood what his purpose was.

Menas was not here. The Spirit God was missing.

Now Tallas understood what Lirri wanted from him. Find Menas. He wasn’t meant to simply show up to Menas’s door. He would have to find where the missing god was. Tallas knew this as thought he’d always known it. As simply as he knew his own name.

Taking a moment to feel the air and tap into this barren world, he could now distinctly feel the absence of the god; now he could see the empty throne and understand what it meant. The vast rock hills and surrounding land gave no answers for him, except one. This was not the true nature of the spirit realm. Everything there felt wrong.

Menas was missing, and Tallas must find a way to return him to the realm. How he could perform such a task, he didn’t know. But Tallas knew one thing beyond a doubt: this was his purpose. More so than bringing Sacre down. More than returning to some semblance of the life he once had. More than anything.

This would be a promise he would keep.

Tallas had a lot to do, and somehow, he felt it was the greatest task that any living being could accomplish.