Or at least, she wanted to continue, only to find out that the journal ended abruptly on the next page. Confused and irritated, she quickly turned page after page, yet there was nothing more to be found in the journal. “What is this, why did she end just then and there? What was the final solution?”
Naira shrugged. “Maybe something happened to her. The final solution sounds ominous. It might have gone wrong. It might have killed her…”
“No…” Auria shook her head. “She’s not dead.”
“How do you know that?”
Her head was spinning, thoughts in her head running wildly. She was unfocused, unconcentrated, and the next words she said came out without her wanting to actually say them.
“The creator told me.”
Naura straightened and stiffened. “Who? How? When?”
Auria’s throat and mouth dried. She wasn’t ready to speak about this to Naira, but now that she’d started, she had no choice. “I… He spoke to me. In Deadvoid…”
Naira moved closer to Auria, placing her hand softly on the medic's thigh. She glared into Auria’s eyes, a glare that did not allow for any refusals. “Start again, Auria. Tell me everything.”
***
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, boy…” Morgue-keeper said, panting. Heers just helped him to heave another corpse atop the dissection table - a man that resembled a well fed pig, both in size, weight and in smell. “I’m getting too old for this but… Who would do such a work? There aren’t many with a stomach strong enough for cutting the dead open.”
“Uh-uh.” Heers agreed with a non-specific sound. “I do help.”
“Yes, you do. But…” The old morgue-keeper looked at Heers with narrowed eyes. “There is something strange about you. You act dumb, but there is a sort of… certainty in your movements. A little bit of arrogance. I don’t think you are who you say you are.”
Heers tensed, but tried to not let anything show. He hurried towards the morgue-keeper’s toolbag that laid atop a simple wooden chair and he quickly put it on the table next to the corpse.
“I don’t care who you are. But there is something in you… hm.” Morgue-keeper picked a scalpel with a small, precisely made blade from the bag. “A gift from the citadel.” Morgue-keeper chuckled, but that chuckle quickly turned into a full, breathtaking cough. Wheezing, he handed the scalpel to Heers. “Here, boy. Try to… open the corpse. I will guide you, but my hand is shaking, so you have to be the one holding the blade.”
Heers carefully took the scalpel and inserted it carefully into the body precisely where the morgue-keeper instructed him. “Good. Don’t go deeper. Now, make a cut, a straight one from here to here…” Heers followed the shaking finger slowly, opening the corpse like a horrible, disgusting gift wrapped in a bloated skin.
Cut after cut, the body laid in front of them was opened after half an hour, spewing a sickening stench in the air. “Good work, my boy.” Morgue-keeper coughed. “You have a very fine hand. It is as if those tools were made for you. I… Help me outside. I need some fresh air.”
As they sat, their backs leaning against the morgue wall, the morgue-keeper looked lost in the memories. “Where are you from, boy?”
“Far.” Heers muttered.
“I thought so.” Morgue-keeper smiled. “Have you ever been to the Citadel?” Heers nodded, but the Morgue-keeper did not see him. “Marvelous place...” he continued heavily. “They are as we all should be. All people should get proper education and experience…”
Heers nodded slightly in agreement, and the morgue-keeper continued. “They have saved me, you know. Their medic contingent, the last time they visited this city… They left after a very short time, sadly…”
“Why?” Heers asked, honestly curious.
“They didn’t feel welcome here. The people are afraid of them, worried that they might take over. People worry about losing their freedom, and with Citadel’s technology surrounding them, they are afraid of losing it all. Suspicious, worried, paranoid. Mostly, they are afraid of what would happen if the Citadel decided to stop helping us all, stop supplying us with all their life-improving tools…”
Morgue keeper coughed, bloody droplets landing on his palms. He took a rasped breath. “They are afraid of being indebted to Citadel, of being under their thumb, not realizing that every breath they take, every shit they make, it all belongs to…” His sentence ended in wild, unending coughing. Heers tried to help him as best as he could, throwing away the facade of stupid simpleton. The morgue-keeper did not see them, trying to continue speaking through the coughing. “People belong to… To Victon… To the priests… To their god… They are afraid of… Change… Known tyrant is better than… unknown saint…”
Heers was helpless. The man was dying in his arms, and he had no idea what to do. The morgue-keeper raised his shaking hand towards Heers. “Thank you for… not leaving me… alone.” With that last word, he exhaled for the last time. For a long time, Heers stayed kneeling, holding the dead man in his arms.
***
Auria finished speaking and looked into her friend’s face, seeking… something. Some emotion, some opinion, some expression. Anything would be better than the silence that hung in the air for the last ten minutes.
“Am I insane?” Auria asked finally. To that question, Naira shook her head, but did not comment on it further. More minutes passed, and just as their carriage stopped and Auria wanted to jump down from it, Naira turned towards her. “You can speak to the dead.”
Auria nodded slowly. “I know what you wa…”
“Find them. Go to sleep, enter the Deadvoid. Find the people mentioned in that journal. Try finding Sphinx, don’t believe the creator. Try finding that… Carayan. Auria, Deadvoid seems like an untapped pool of infinite wisdom. You would be unwise if you did not use it.”
Stolen novel; please report.
“Are you… Sure?”
“I will protect you. I have a feeling that I can… shut the projector off if something goes wrong.” Naira waved her fingers, feeling the invisible strings dancing between them.
Auria nodded quickly. “I trust you, Naira. But… Don’t you want me to seek… someone else?”
Naira froze up. “I… Do. I do not. I…” She shuddered, a sudden chill running down her spine. “I am unsure.”
“I can try to…”
“No. Not yet.” Naira stopped her quickly. “Some other time perhaps.”
***
That night, Auria laid tucked in her bedroll while Naira sat next to her, guarding her from something intangible. The more Auria tried to fall asleep, the more nervous she became and the Deadvoid eluded her. “I can’t.” She exhaled with frustration. “You sitting over me makes me nervous.”
“I will leave then.” Naira muttered. “But I will be close. Don’t worry.”
As Naira blew out the light and the tent flaps closed, Auria was left in the dark silence. “Feels almost like a Deadvoid even now.” She muttered to herself silently. Alone, she began to think about how to find the dead she wished to seek. What would she do, simply shout out their name? But there are a lot of people sharing names, she imagined. Although she knew no one that shared her own name, Naira was a name popular enough in Malorea, and Harian was a rather common name in Antigan. Suranihr originated from Kryota, and his facial features reminded her of the fearsome warriors from that ever-frozen hell.
Iarvahr, now that name was almost as unique as her own, rooted perhaps in the old Rooskurian lineages… But names like Carayan, or Sphinx? She couldn’t even imagine where the owners of these names came from, or what their culture was like, or where their origin came from. Maybe they were completely unique. On the other hand, Sphinx mentioned conquering entire worlds… Were there other worlds than their own? True, some scholars that focused themselves on looking at stars through magnifying glass speculated about entire planets - ball shaped worlds similar to their own - that floated among the shiny lights visible during the light, but… that was insane, right?
Was it, though?
Carayan. Where did you come from? Did you come from another world? And if so, how can I find you in Deadvoid? Does the Deadvoid contain all the worlds, all the stars, or is it limited to our own world?
“Yes.”
She opened her eyes and in front of her stood a monster.
Half man, half machine, he stood much taller than Auria, with multiple projector-like limbs and tentacles made of similar material sprouting from his body. Instead of hair, wires of glowing light grew from his head, braided into long pigtails, hiding the metallic skull that covered half of his head. His left hand was made of metal, ending in a three-clawed apparatus with a wide tube sitting in the middle of it that emitted dark, sickly light. But the most alien thing about him were his eyes.
Auria counted seven of them - one ordinary human eye, although with a jade-green pupil that looked as unnatural as his hair or arm, and six glowing eye-like shapes scattered around the metal-half of his face. All of them focused on her, piercing her with an all-knowing gaze.
He bared his teeth in a ferocious grin. “Another fucking wielder. I’ve hoped that Sphinx killed you all. It pains me deeply to be so mistaken.”
Auria did not know how to respond. She did not expect to find the unknown dead person this easily, just as much she did not expect him to be this… horrifying.
“What do you want, wielder?” He asked, spitting the last word with contempt.
“I… I am Auria.” She introduced herself, trying to be as polite as she could. As an answer, Carayan laughed loudly. “No you’re fucking not. Your hair is white, your skin is pale, and that fucking abomination sticking out of your back is also not golden. What’s your name?”
Blood rushed into her cheeks. “I’ve said it. I am Auria.”
“Oh.” Carayan looked stunned, and slightly confused. “Why did they name you after a metal?”
Auria smiled, filling that smile with all the irritation she could. “I’ve never met my parents. Ask them.”
“Doesn’t matter. What do you want? How do you know me?”
“I’ve read your name somewhere.”
“And so you’ve thought how funny it would be to disturb the random dead person. Fucking hillarious, I can’t breath from all the laughing.”
“No I… I’m sorry. This was a mistake.”
He sighed and started to walk around her, tendrils waving around him in unison with his body. “Possibly. Now what do you want? You know that you don’t have much time here, right?”
“What do you mean?” Auria tensed with a bad premonition.
“You being here drains you. That piece of filth sticking from your back kills you. It needs to take power from somewhere, right? And since it can’t take power from here - as you are now here - it takes it from you. You didn’t know? Your master forgot to mention such a little thing?” Carayan chuckled.
“My master? Who do you think I am?”
Carayan crossed his arms on his chest along with a bunch of tendrils. “Judging by your snow-white hair, you come from one of the Bashenite factions. Hedonists, perhaps? Or the Defiled? Hm, but that thing on your back is… Advanced.” He moved closer, reaching for Auria’s projector with his long tendrils that each split into hundreds of hair-thin worms. As it touched her projector, it tickled. “Strange. It’s similar to her design… And your face… Remove the scarring.” Carayan ordered her, and Auria instinctively hurried to obey, only to realize she didn’t need to, and that she didn’t even know how.
“I have no idea what you are talking about. I’ve never heard of any Defiled, or Hedonists, and Bashen is long gone. All I know is that the civilization of Bashen is long dead. I come from the Citadel, and this?” She waved the projector around. “This latched onto me by accident. I didn’t ask for it, I didn’t want it.”
“Dead?” He staggered. “It’s impossible. If they were dead, that would mean that Sphinx’s plan worked, and if her plan worked, she would be long dead with the rest of us. And she’s not dead, otherwise she would be here, with us.”
“What do you mean?” Auria asked. “I literally have only read about the things you mention in her journal, and I know nothing more.”
“Her journal…” Carayan’s features softened and he smiled. “I’ve teased her about it, you know? I see that someone did indeed manage to find it and read it… where did you find it, wielder?”
“It has been gifted to me, but from what I understand, it was found in ancient ruins beneath the Citadel.”
Carayan scratched his chin. “Citadel… and what's that?”
“We…” she sighed, understanding his confusion but not knowing where to start. “We are the most progressive - both in technology and in mind - nation in the known world. Our surgeons are well known far and wide, and our steam engines turn…”
“Steam engines?!” Carayan asked suddenly, not letting her finish. He looked as if he wanted to burst to laughter, but his half-human face was quickly covered by a shadow of thought. “When did the Bashen fall, when was it destroyed?”
Auria thought for a short while. “It must have been hundreds of years ago. The citadel did not exist at that time from what I've read in historic manuscripts… maybe even a thousand years ago?”
“Hundreds…” Carayan muttered. “Her solution might have worked… But she's not dead?”
He quickly shifted his gaze towards Auria.
“Something went terribly wrong, golden child. Something happened to Sphinx. She had a solution to save humanity, one last time. But she would have perished and joined us here if she was successful.”
Carayan walked slowly towards her. “I will give you all the answers you seek, all the help you want. But first, I need something from you.” Auria nodded impatiently as he stepped in front of her and stared her dead in the eyes.
“I need you to bring me back to the living world.”