The sun shone brightly in the empty plains of the land of legions, its warmth radiating and blessing the grasses, mosses, and scattered bushes of its silent domain. The day was clear. Not a single cloud threatened the adventurer's clothes today as they continued their trek through the flatland.
In the distance, the party saw no smokestacks but only the very edge of the Frigid mountains.
At the front of the party, the wizard scanned the horizon, trying to find any hint of a valley but all he found was only more flatland and old settlement ruins and the Frigid Mountains where the Silent Plains ended. In the back, the party broke through the silence as the fernian showered their newest addition with an endless stream of questions.
“Is that true? With just a net?” Fiona looked at Cila like an idol.
“Just a net and my bare hands,” the ranger answered as she put on a rough voice and mimicked the coup de grace with her hands.
“Wow!”
Behind the wizard, the monk shook his head as he heard the ranger’s feats in the arena.
“So unnecessary,” the jeru guardian said at the tail end of the party. “These Imperial bloodsports . . . violence and war is a necessary evil, not something to be glorified or recreated in peaceful times.”
“I second that,” the monk spoke up. “Vaelia, and the Empire especially, would be in a much better state if the common kin spent their time in the libraries instead of the arenas.”
The cind rolled her eyes at the old tired argument from the monk and answered, “Ok grandpa, you want me to tuck you in for your afternoon nap too?”
Griff scornfully looked to the cind and answered with a disapproving grumble.
The staring battle between the ranger and the monk was broken when the fernian spoke.
“Maybe they can do both. As my father used to say, a good hunter is both in tune with the bow and the wilds around him. There's no reason why the kin can't enjoy both fighting and reading.”
As the monk and ranger looked back to the fernian, the monk began to dwell on her words while the ranger smiled and ruffled the fernian’s hair with tacit approval of her take.
“Hmm, maybe your right Fiona,” the monk said as the wizard looked behind and added to the conversation.
“That she is, but of course it wouldn't hurt if the kin spent more time at the library than they do in the arena.” As the wizard finished, the monk finally admitted, “You know, on second thought, perhaps the kin should stay away from the library. Could use fewer heretics,” the monk said with a sly smile as Thalon let out an amused grunt.
The silence of the plains fell over the party again as they took in their surroundings. Finally, Cila spoke up. “So, what were the directions the goddess told you again?”
“Past the Ley River and deep into the Craddle Valley. Nestled between two rivers, you will find the ruins of our greatest shame. The ruins of Hopefield,” the monk read from his notebook.
“Well, we passed the Ley River two days ago. Just have to find this Craddle Valley,” the guardian added. The plain stretched out seemingly infinitely.
“I don't understand . . . Where in the dreggers is this valley?” the wizard said, noticeably frustrated by the silence of the plains and their flatness.
“Maybe it would help if we could clear our minds and pray for some guidance,” the monk mused.
The wizard turned around. “For the last time, Griff, we are not gonna pray for the gods’ help. That doesn't do anything. They never listen anyway.”
“It's not really about the gods coming down themselves, Thalon. It's more about becoming focused, clearing your mind, and knowing what’s the right thing to do.”
“Yeah? Well I can do all of that myself. I don't need to pray or the gods’ guidance to do what I do. I have come here all by my own strength of will, not because of divine help. If they want my respect back, the least they can do is apologize. And guess what? They aren't gonna do that either.” The wizard spoke in a stern tone and the monk sighed at the wizard stubbornness.
“Hey lady,” the fernian called to the cind. “You said you were in Hopefield.”
The ranger shuddered as she remembered the horror that she had witnessed in that accursed place. “I was and we are still going the right way. Look.” She pointed to a far-away stone pillar surrounded by a decrepit farmstead. “I remember those ruins. We are almost at the campsite.”
“That just looks like any of the hundreds of abandoned settlements we passed already,” the wizard said with growing frustration.
“Not to me. I have lived in this place for a while. You start to notice the differences in the ruins if you are here long enough.”
“Alright, fine. You are the guide after all,” the wizard relented as he continued to scour the horizon.
“You said, there was no valley in Hopefield?” the monk asked as he looked at a map of Vaelia he had copied long ago.
“No. Hopefield was . . . Well, it really was just a broken archway, some stones, and a stone pillar. There wasn't any valley. If anything, the only reason we knew it was Hopefield was those were the words inscribed on the fallen archway.”
“Maybe the valley is a metaphor.”
“A metaphor? Really, Eren?” the wizard said, annoyed, as he looked back to the jeru guardian. “What would it be a metaphor for?”
“Maybe it means what we are looking for is something hidden, separated by two great chasms of . . . something.”
The wizard thought about the jeru's words. “Alright, fine, maybe you have a point. Maybe it is a metaphor for something. In any case, how long until we arrive, Cila?”
A slight blush covered the cind's face as she felt the wizard's piercing eyes gazing towards her, and she said. “Huh, we should be almost there. An hour or two, maybe.”
“Good. I can barely wait to find the truth,” the wizard said eagerly.
“Same,” the monk nodded in agreement.
A faint shiver went up the cind's spine. “You're not worried about what I told you? About what happened there?”
“Weirder things have happened,” the monk admitted.
“Yeah, whatever is lurking in there, I have full confidence we can take it,” the wizard said as he looked back, his tabard and hair flowing with the wind and as he adjusted his hat. “Besides, I know we'll be safe with you two to protect us. Leave the supernatural to me and Griff.”
At his words, Cila’s heart began to beat rapidly and her worries and fear melted away. The charm of the wizard in her eyes was matched only by the cheeriness, optimism, and unity of the group. To her side, she saw the fernian placed her hand on her shoulder. As they continued walking, she sported a great wide grin and said, “Don't worry Lady, even if something does happen, I'm here to patch you all up. A fernian is always prepared to help her tribe and hunter party after all.”
Her cheer was contagious, and the ranger caught herself smiling. She had been doing that more and more since she had joined the party and, even though she had still not quite got the hang of it, it felt right.
The silence of the plains fell upon the party again. As all of them looked to the horizon with hopeful hearts and high morale, the mushroom broke through the silence with a marching tune.
“Er' now the drums beat up again/
To call to miner down in vein/
So let us list and march I say/
Over the mountains and far away/
Over the mountains and far away/
To Goldswill, Len and Silent Plain
The captain commands and we obey/
Over the mountains and far away/”
The party joined into the refrain and to the beat, they walked and marched towards the truth that the gods had hidden long ago.
The late afternoon sun shone brightly as the party arrived at the ruins of Hopefield.
The campsite was a mess. Trampled grass, dirt, and mud was the norm as scattered stone rubble littered the ground, accompanied still by the remains of the Gustav Bracaria. Military equipment, swords, armor, and other metal detritus rusted away in the open elements. By its side, the cleaned-off remains of the fallen legionaries haunted the campsite. Their bones still wore iron breastplates and chainmail. Wooden and cloth wreckage swayed in the wind. Torn remains of tents and wagons were scattered among stones. Throughout it, charred artifacts of the independent legion complimented the ancient stone desolation.
Yet, there was no valley in sight. Only the endless flatland that completely surrounded the ruins of the gods’ shame.
“Here we are,” The wizard firmly proclaimed as the wind whistled through gaps in the fallen ruins.
“Charming,” the monk sarcastically admitted as he looked to the scavenged remains of the once-fearsome bracaria.
The party hesitated for a moment as they gazed at the once pristine campsite. The fallen archway still commanded respect as it welcomed its newest visitors, the plaque on its facade clearly inscribed with the name “Hopefield”.
The cind almost instinctively stepped back as visions of the horror she witnessed began to flood her imagination. An ancient thought spoke to her, the words from her mother almost urging her to run away.
She felt a warm hand reaching for her own and as she looked to the source of it, she saw the fernian. In a comforting tone, she said, ”Don't worry. We are here with you.”
Cila’s worry seemed to disappear as she felt the cheerful presence from her friend and the protection of the rest of the party. A smile erupted from her as she faced the horror before her.
“Let's start looking then,” the monk proclaimed as the party began to walk to the innards of the ruins. As they did, Eren took out his folded knife.
“Something wrong, Eren?” the wizard inquired as his guardian threw shifty looks all around the ruins.
“Don't know . . . instinct. Something feels off.”
The wizard nodded in agreement as the party advanced and the guardian and ranger searched for danger.
The trampled dirt led to an ancient, stone-tiled floor as the old remains began to overtake the recent bracarian camp. However, the bones of the fallen still littered the space and on the corner, just barely within sight, the party saw the mangled and broken spine of one of the old leganis that had fallen to the mysterious attacker of Hopefield.
“Ugh,” the wizard let out as he saw the spine and tried to push away the thought of what it looked like when it still had meat attached to it.
“My gods. This is . . . incredible,” the monk let out as he was overtaken by the somehow still clear engravings on the stone floor and fallen walls.
“What is it Griff?” the wizard asked. He desperately shifted his attention away from the gruesome fate of the legionaries.
“These figures, the way they are laid out, the style, the type of stone . . . this is not just centuries old, this is pre-ancient,” the monk said as he double-checked with his notes.
“What? What do you mean?”
“This place pre-dates kin history. Whoever built this built it centuries, no, thousands—maybe even millions of years—before recorded history.”
“How could that be possible?” the fernian asked, blown away by the monk's words.
The monk's eyes widened as he began to talk about the mysteries of the past. “These runes, this type of stone. There's only a few other sites like this throughout Vaelia and they are all incomprehensibly old. Look, Eren.”
The mushroom stopped his lookout to inspect the stone.
“Look familiar?”
A burst of electricity coursed through his entire central neural web as he realized what surrounded him. “This is . . . abyssite.”
“That's right. Only found in the deepest mines of the Jeru Free Mountains.”
“With all due respect, Master Griff, That is impossible. Abyssite is impossible to dig through, let alone harvest and sculpt.”
“Indeed, it is impossible. Yet here it is. Here, and in a handful of other sites throughout Vaelia.”
The entire party stared in wonder at the historical significance of the site. The ranger asked, “Who made this place then?”
The monk diligently answered. “Supposedly, according to the gods, well . . . the gods did. The other sites like this are all found in the places where the gods first revealed themselves to the kin. Of course, they were there before the gods arrived, but we never knew what their purpose was or who built them. Then the gods revealed themselves and claimed they made them. It was a signal of their forthcoming to the world to protect the kin. Built and placed there eons before as a sign of what was to come.”
“Is, is that true?” the fernian asked, feeling a little bit dwarfed by the scale of it all.
“Well, I guess that's partly what we are here to discover. Question is, why is this one here in the middle of nowhere, so far away from any of the supposed origins of the kin?”
The party fell silent as they pondered the true meaning of the site. Then, the wizard broke through it as he recited, “The Craddle Valley, nestled between two rivers you will find the ruins of our greatest shame . . .”
“We should continue inspecting this place,” the monk said without a hint of fear, as his voice was overtaken by the emotion and the possibility of discovery.
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“Are we looking for anything specific?” the ranger asked, as the monk began to speed ahead of the party.
“Just look for anything out of place or anything that looks unique. That should be our answer.”
“Or look for two rivers in a valley,” the wizard added as the party began to follow the monk in tow.
The party trampled through the stone ruins looking for anything that would be out of place. Runes and symbols meshed together, their meaning a mystery even for the monk. As the party inspected the walls, though, something felt wrong. A cold chill traveled down their spines. To the jeru and the cind, it was something much more worrying, an alert warning brought about by years of experience.
The air itself became colder and the wind ceased. With just a few moments to spare, a thought brought about from an ancient source in their soul urged the guardian and ranger to scream at their companions.
“Get down!”
“Duck!”
The cind and jeru yelled as they jumped towards their companions and pushed them down to the floor. Above them, a black, blade-like tentacle cut through the air.
“Woah,” the wizard let out in shock as the tentacle reeled back and disappeared into thin air.
“What was that?!” the monk cried out in shock before a great ethereal and echoing voice spoke.
“It is, you,” the voice said with two tones, male and female in tandem.
Clouds gathered and blocked out the sun. The plains fell dark. The wind picked up and thunder and lightning began to shower and strike at the silent plain. Then the being revealed itself.
In a strike of lightning, it blinked into existence. A great sphere of white light buzzing with electricity asserted itself in the ruins before the party. The sphere was surrounded by three golden rings that spun and rotated along the perimeter of their master. On its back, four bird-like wings fluttered as the wind obeyed them. From the core of the sphere, extending as far as it would allow them, twelve bright yellow tendrils swayed and floated in the air.
The ethereal entity was accompanied by the sound of occasional roaring thunder and heavy wind as it addressed the party.
“You, Thalon of the Loreseed. I will not repeat this again.” The party looked in awe and horror as they heard the sphere. “Leave this place now. None are allowed in Hopefield.”
The party was stunned. No one dared to move or even say anything as they saw the glowing floating spherical entity address them. No one except for the pointy-hatted wizard. Defiantly, and against the wishes of his companions, the wizard stood up and as he adjusted his hat he said with an imposing voice, “Oh yeah? Who's demanding that?”
The sphere ballooned itself into a greater size and its tendrils and wings violently shook in the wind. It said in an angry double voice, “Who demands? Who demands?! You insolent vermin! I do! I am Structor Uriel, a servant of the gods, a true servant. Not like you or any of the other toys at the Holy Palace.”
Griff's eyes widened as he heard the name. Suddenly, his entire being was flooded with fear, a feeling his pointy-hatted friend did not share.
Defiantly, the wizard grabbed onto his hat. “Toys? What do you mean toys?”
The sphere assumed what seemed to be a mocking tone. “You honestly think you and the others in the palace are real servants? You and all kin are nothing but toys to be used and discard when our masters are done with. You think of yourselves as servants? Nonsense!”
The sphere continued to rise in size as it began to dwarf the wizard and the party. “You know nothing of servitude! When the gods beat the Void did they call upon you to rebuild reality? No! They called us, structors! When the gods began to rest, did they call upon you to sculpt this world? No! They called us! When the gods created their toys to entertain themselves, did they call you to keep the order, the balance, and to reign in the forces that rule reality? NO! They called us!”
The sphere threateningly floated over the entire party as they stood up and rallied, somewhat afraid, behind the wizard.
“Thalon of Loreseed, you know nothing of servitude. Know nothing of the true responsibility such a position entails. Know nothing of the power it brings. So take your unclean, heretical feet of this Holy Ground or I will remove you from reality myself.”
The thunder and wind punctuated the words from the angry ethereal sphere and as the party took refuge behind the wizard's long hat, he continued to stay defiantly.
An ancient power coursed through his veins. The ancient word, the true power of the kin, spoke to him as he stared at the great floating orb. “We are not going anywhere. We are here for Parhon!” He pointed his hand forward and let the ancient magic take its shape and attack the great primordial sphere. But nothing happened.
The wind and thunder stopped as the silence of the plains punctuated his failure. For the first time since he had started his quest, Thalon felt true horror and fear as he stared at the great orb in front of him.
“Parhon,” the wizard said as he desperately tried to cast the magic. “Parhon . . . Parhon. Parhon! Parhon! C'mon you bastard, please, oh gods, Parhon please!” the wizard called as behind him, the fernian and monk began to truly fear for their existence.
To his surprise and worry, the ranger and the guardian moved in front of him and brandished their weapons at the primordial servant of the gods.
“Eren, Cila! No, wait!” Thalon tried to call out as the jeru and the cind tried their best to protect their companions.
Then, the booming voice of the ancient sphere spoke again. “Insolent vermin. You think your tainted arcanium is even a match for MY divinely ordained mandate? Let me show you how powerless and worthless you lot really are.”
Lightning struck again at the silent plain. In the blink of an eye, both Eren and Cila were trapped within the grasp of the structor’s tendrils.
“Eren! Cila! You bastard, let them go!” Thalon cried out as Fiona and Griff behind him watched in horror.
“M-master Thalon . . .”
“Thal—”
Eren and Cila cried out as they felt their bodies being crushed under the weight of the bright yellow tendrils.
“Wait!” the monk shouted, stepping forward. “Oh, blessed and great Structor Uriel, servant of the gods, protector of Hopefield. We humble sinners prostrate ourselves to you. Please. If you would let our friends go, we shall leave this blessed Holy Site henceforth and swear never to come back,” Griff said and threw himself on the ground to bow before the divine orb.
“Griff, what are you doing?” Thalon asked with a worried voice as his friend surrendered to the mercy of the orb.
“Shut up, Thalon! This has gone on long enough,” the monk quietly answered.
“Sigist Griff Favonius. You disgust me the most of all from your rotten bunch. Worse than a heretic is a heretic who still thinks of himself as a holy man. Face your sins, monk!” the orb proclaimed as a ray of electricity erupted from its core and connected itself to the monk's head. He began to violently convulse at the discharge being spread throughout his entire body.
“Griff!” Fiona called to the monk, uttering his name for the first time.
She began to run towards him, only to be stopped as the orb proclaimed, “Stay out of this, plant priest.” As he finished, Fiona was violently held back as plants and roots sprouted from the stone tiles to bind her feet and arms and began to slowly pull her down into the bowels of the earth.
“Tha—" She tried to call for help only for the roots to muffle and cover her mouth as she continued her slow descent to the earth.
“No. . .you, you can't do this. . .”-Thalon said to himself as he fell to his knees in despair as his friends slowly approached the ultimate oblivion. His soul was crushed. He had no idea what to do or how to even resist such an overwhelming force. He wondered if there had even been any hope at all. How stupid this all had been, he thought. How could he possibly have thought he could change the world?
“Now . . . you,” the orb proclaimed as it extended its tendrils towards the wizard. Without even any resistance, the wizard fell into his grasp.
“You will be purified. Poor lost lamb, witness the pureness of the light.” The sphere said as it brought Thalon closer toward itself, preparing to absorb the entire essence of the wizard.
The light was overwhelming. It blinded Thalon as he gazed into it, and as he did, as he prepared to meet with the void, his life flashed before his eyes. He saw his adventure, the friends he had made. Saw Val and Maud, the poor peasants who helped him when his world collapsed. Saw the fall, the palace, and his young life in the monastery. Then, he closed his eyes and, without any powers, without any ability to do anything, he swallowed his pride, his ego, his arrogance, and disdain for the gods and he did the one thing that he could do. The one thing that had brought him hope before he turned on the gods. He closed his eyes, opened his heart, and prayed.
“Holy Sigurd, father of knowledge, protector of the curious,” he prayed under his breath. “Ascended, god of mankind. I'm sorry . . . please, save my friends.”
The thunder and wind ceased and the structor stopped short of engulfing the wizard, holding him right above his surface. To the shock of the dying adventurers and the structor, they heard a great horn sounding.
It echoed from the sky, it deafened everything and everyone in its way and it was followed by an even louder trumpeting. The north horn sounded and the clouds broke as a titan fell from the sky. Mounted atop his trusted steed, he raced down air itself. When he landed, the earth violently shook as the greatest Son of Vaelia graced his Homeland yet again.
“Lord Sigurd,” the structor called as he saw the glowing lord of knowledge and wisdom standing in the Holy Ruins.
His short white hair flowed with the wind, blessed by his divine blue glow and aura. His old humble Sigi tribal clothes swayed in the wind, accompanied by his celestial book on his belt.
“It's ok, Northwind, go back home. I will be there soon,” he called to his steed as it raced back to the heavens, leaving the god alone with the servant.
“Uriel,” he said with a resolute determination as he looked to the protector of Hopefield. “Let them go.”
The structor rolled as he ballooned himself yet again to match the God. “I will do no such thing. These vermin have infested my domain and I have the right to get rid of them as I see fit.”
“Are you disobeying a god's command?” the lord of knowledge asked as he took off one of his gloves.
The structor grew angry and said with a booming voice, “You are no god. You are the same as these vermin. Just because Lady Fortuna has welcomed you to the pantheon, does not give you the right to claim divine blood. You are same as these heretics.”
A smile erupted from the god as he said, “Indeed, I am. And, I am also a god.” He pointed his open hand and said, “Structor Uriel, you are hereby . . . excommunicated.”
“No! Wait!” the sphere cried out as the god closed his hand. As he did, the structor began to implode on himself. His tendrils retracted, freeing the adventurers. His rings rusted away and his wings disintegrated into thousands of smaller feathers. The sphere became smaller and smaller until finally it imploded on itself and the sky was cleared of clouds as a great aftershock followed in the collapse of the servant.
The sun began to shine behind the god of knowledge and as he diminished himself back to his original human size, he moved to help the adventurers.
“You, alright? Thalon?” the lord of knowledge called as he helped the wizard back onto his feet. As he straightened up and his vision focused, the wizard could barely believe his eyes.
“I . . . my lord,” the wizard said as he rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming, or perhaps had even died.
“I can't help but feel responsible for this entire ordeal. I'm sorry, Thalon,” the god said as behind him, the rest of the party slowly regained their consciousness and gathered behind the mysterious glowing stranger.
The wizard became teary-eyed and began to hiccup. He closed his eyes and as he bowed down his head as much as he could, he pleaded in a rare, vulnerable tone, “My lord! Please! Forgive me!” Tears began to flow as he gazed for the first time in his life to the one he had so long ago entrusted with his devotion.
“I-I was so scared, they wouldn't stop. She, she wouldn't let us . . . I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” the wizard continued as the god brought him closer and hugged him.
“It's alright, Thalon. It's alright,” the god said with a warm voice as he tried his best to comfort the wizard. Behind him, the party gathered to see their friend.
“No, it's not alright. I messed up. I caused so many problems.”
“Hey, now that's not true,” the lord said as he stopped hugging Thalon and brought him to eye level. “Maybe the way you acted was not the best, but you still did the right thing regardless. They can attest to it.”
The god helped Thalon back to his feet and the crying wizard's eyes met with his equally exhausted but emotionally spirited friends.
“Guys! You are alright!” the wizard almost leaped to hug his friends, who barely maintained themselves.
“Oh, my web . . .”
“Hmmm”
“Good to see you, Pointy Hat.”
“Oh, my back is killing me. Gods, alright, enough Thalon.”
Eren, Cila, Fiona and Griff each said before the wizard backed away and began to clear the tears from his eyes.
“I'm so sorry guys. I shouldn't have brought you here, I put you guys in danger and thought I could solve everything when I don't even know how in the dreggers this magic works.”
“Hey, Pointy Hat! Don't say that. It's not like we could have gone anywhere else. We chose to follow you and help you and whatever mess you get in, we are there behind you,” Fiona said as she aggressively placed her hands on the wizard's shoulder and stared some sense back into him.
“I swore an oath, Master Thalon. To die in battle defending you is an honor, not a curse,” the mushroom said as he gave a half salute to his friend.
“I have been through worse . . . don't worry about me,” Cila said with an embarrassed smile.
“The pursuit of truth has its price, my wizard friend. We must be willing to give body and soul for the ultimate truth if we want to move forward after all,” the monk finished as he rubbed his eyes and tried to focus his vision.
“Amen to that, brother Griff,” the lord of wisdom completed.
“Who said that?” the monk asked as he focused his vision on the glowing stranger. Once his facade became clear, the monk's jaw dropped. “Holy, sh . . .” Alas the monk did not complete his blessing as he passed out and fell again to the floor at the sight of his lord.
“Oh, that's a shame. I had a lot to tell him. Oh well,” The lord of wisdom said as he moved to the passed-out monk and began to carry him away. “You all can walk?” The remaining party nodded. “Great. Follow me.”
“If I may, my lord, where are we going?” the wizard asked as he moved in tandem with the slowed party.
The god turned around and with a jovial tone he said, “Where else? To the Craddle Valley.”
The party looked in astonishment. Before they could say anything, the god turned his head again and said, “Oh and please, Thalon. You can just call me Sigurd.”
The wizard smiled. “With pleasure, Sigurd.”
The party arrived at the center of the old stone ruins where a great stone altar stood. As the god approached it, he gently placed the monk on top of it. “Hope you don't mind, I took the liberty to gather your things.”
“I don't see anythi—” the fernian was quickly stopped as the god snapped his fingers and her pack fell into her hands. “Oooh. Neat.”
“You all should rest for a bit, patch yourselves up,” the god said, and the jeru took it as permission to sit down. “See if everything's alright with Griff, Fiona.”
“On it, Mr. Blue Glowing Man.”
Cila slithered her way towards Thalon. As she stood behind him, the god turned to her and said, “You too, Cila. Thalon can't go to the Valley with you.”
The ranger hissed at the god and grabbed the wizard's hand. “He might trust you, but I don't. I'm staying by his side to protect him.”
The wizard firmly held to the ranger’s hand, enjoying her warmth. He turned to his god. “She can't come?”
The lord of wisdom shook his head. “She didn't see the book. If she saw what was down there, the magic would overwhelm and kill her.”
She hissed back at the god, “I have dealt with this fire before. I can take it.”
A chill went down the wizard's spine as he saw the cold disapproving gaze of the god toward him. He turned towards the ranger, and closely looked to Cila's eyes. He held her hands and brought them upwards towards their chests. He said with a comforting and reassuring voice, ”It's alright, Cila. I promise I'll be back.”
The words echoed in her mind as Cila remembered her mother and the carriage. Without thinking, she jumped at the wizard and began hugging him. “Come back . . . but not broken.”
The wizard hugged her back and said with a loving voice, “I promise.”
The ranger then stepped back and attentively watched in wait, hoping her savior would be safe and sound.
“So, where is this hidden valley after all?” the wizard asked as he turned to the god.
Sigurd answered with a smile and a snap of his fingers.
Suddenly, the center of the ruins began to collapse in on itself, and the brick revealed a hidden staircase. Thalon felt as if the earth ceased moving as the dark staircase to the bowels of Vaelia appeared. “Over there,” Sigurd said. “Come along, we have much to see.”
The god began his descent, and the tunnel was illuminated by his blue glowing aura.
Thalon too began to climb down the stairs, but not before he looked back and his friends answered.
“We'll be right here, Pointy Hat.”
“Good luck, Master Thalon.”
“Please come back soon.”
The staircase went down for some time and as they went down, Thalon asked his God, “So . . . Gods, I have so many questions for you.”
A sad sigh escaped from the god.
“Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to upset you.”
“No, it's—” The god stopped in his tracks as he turned back and faced the wizard. “I—ah, crap. Near limitless power and knowledge and still, I find ways to trip myself. I'm sorry, Thalon.”
The wizard looked at him in confusion. “Sorry? Sorry for what?”
“For not being there for you. In the palace, I mean. I was the one who put the opening for you, accepted you. Then I never even showed up once to greet you. I was so distracted with my fieldwork that I entirely forgot to go there. I know that after everything I should have no right to even ask for your forgiveness. But, again, I'm sorry.”
Thalon was stunned at the lord of knowledge’s words. He stuttered. “I-I don't even know what to say.”
“Me neither,” the lord of knowledge said as both servants of truth stood silently in the dark stairway.
“You know, we are kinda alike, aren't we?” the lord of wisdom mused as he broke through the silence.
“Yeah, I guess we are.” A slight smile brightened the wizard’s face as he felt warmth from the god.
“Listen. I know it doesn't mean much, but if I could, I would have taken you as my protege. Before, and even more so now, I think you have proven yourself as a true acolyte of knowledge.”
A small, embarrassed laugh escaped from the wizard at his god's praise and he answered, “Thanks . . . Sigurd. You really think that? Don't think I'm more suited for an acolyte of horror and fear?”
“Who said that? Did Niel say that? That bastard. Listen, don't let that freak get to you. He's just trying to mess with your head. It’s what he does.
With all my heart and soul, I know you are an acolyte of wisdom. Not of horror or fear like he wants you to think you are,” the god said with a resolute tone as the duo began walking downwards again.
“Thanks. It's good to know someone trusts in me.”
“Hey, your friends do too. That counts for something. And you know what you have been doing so far isn't too different from what I do. Or, what I did. People aren't always receptive to change, but if you give them time they'll come around to you and to your ideas. They just need time and, sometimes, a little push.”
“Feels like this push isn't really so little.”
“Perhaps not. But it’s a necessary one. I shouldn't have tried to hide it for so long, but she, she convinced me to. Said it was the best course for Vaelia and the kin.” He hit himself with his hand as the end of the stairs approached. “How could I be so stupid?” the god of wisdom chastised himself.
“So, how deep till this valley?” the wizard asked as the god stopped at the end of the stairway.
“Here,” Sigguard said proudly.
The staircase ended and the tunnel opened up to a great underground chamber. Both sides of the cave slowly descended and formed a depression, a valley where at the very bottom two small streams of water flowed before moving again underground. Miraculously, the cave floor was covered with grass, moss, and even a few scattered flowers. A stone-tilled path led from the staircase towards the opposite end of the cave where there was a small stone archway, decorated with reliefs and strange symbols, and a large boulder that served as a door stood.
“Welcome to Craddle Valley. Boy, Uriel kept himself busy. Must not have been easy to keep this plant life alive down here,” the god said as he signaled for Thalon to follow. “Come, we have much to do.”
The wizard looked around in awe as he walked through the path and saw as the flowers gently swayed to his passing movement. He focused himself and as he looked forward, the god of knowledge grab and moved the large boulder serving as the door to the inner temple.
“What's in here?” he asked.
The boulder fell with a large thud that shook the entire valley as the god of knowledge simply pointed to the inner sanctum and said with a grandiose tone, “The truth.”