The mountain on which the Spirime clan rested was called the Red Horse.
A broad base on which rested the silhouette of a horse. The equivalent of a tail served as a pathway and provided access to the outer village, already towering above most of the trees.
Add the color of the mountain's, these reddish-brown and coppery-brown tones and there was a red horse.
Few visitors were brave enough to cross the emerald forest, especially when greeted by the cold Spirime members.
To approach the inner circle of the clan and witness one of the Wonders, it was necessary to overcome the previous obstacle.
451...452...453... The numbers engraved on each of the gray polished stone steps scrolled up.
Spica stopped, taken aback by the behavior of the grimoire. The book, floating behind him since he began his ascent of the stairway, was now trembling, gripped by sudden and particularly violent spasms.
The flying grimoire approached him and curled up against his chest.
A thick and brilliant red aura spread around it, and transforming into a bundle of tiny red runes that sank into Spica, invading his vision and disappearing just as quickly.
For a moment, he stood dumbfounded, then inspected his lean, whitish body, but there were no marks or other oddities, apart from his deformed body itself.
After a last thought for only one of the numerous strange events that he had lived since his arrival to this world, he continued to advance, his gaze fixed on the giant bronze doors he could just distinguish at the top of the stairs.
Incomprehensible events had been swarming since his awakening. Perhaps among the contents of the clan's warehouses, he'd find guides to understand this place better and the various oddities he'd encountered so far.
When he stopped moving, a certain understanding came over him.
Among the few clear fragments he had inherited, the grimoire's invocation time was clearly defined.
Each call of the grimoire lasted a maximum of twelve hours.
Spica wondered, “Yet some of the bodies are already badly putrefied.”
He turned and looked at a nearby corpse, the back of its skull smashed against the ground, the servant's skin already partly decomposed and dotted with completely ashen parts.
Again, there's that Ichor, Spica pondered, it smells of rot and ash too, perhaps it contaminating the bodies and accelerating their decay? This could explain the rapidity with which they deteriorate.
Unfortunately, the young man's only proof was the comparison between Earth and this place in terms of decomposition, and who knew how many variables differ between the two places.
He glanced thoughtfully at the silent green forest in the distance. Even the tiniest trees of this forest would shade the biggest trees on Earth.
Then Spica's gaze shifted to the stairs.
Littered with corpses and disgusting Ichor, some parts were so cluttered that he was forced to walk on soft, blackened flesh.
When did he stop being surprised by corpses and even strange things?
The first time he'd seen a murloc he'd been penetrated by a palpable sense of dread and disbelief, now even after he obtained a new body he was only a little astonished.
A faint hue of blue returned to his trembling mind. He quickly put it to the back of his mind, there was no time for self-pity and nightmares now.
Sure, there might be some power at play, the same influence that made Soudec's clan so cold, but he could feel without a shadow of a doubt that no terror was assailing him or even doubts about the fact that he truly possessed this body.
It had been a long time since he'd given up anxiety and panic for what he couldn't control. As for believing if that world was true or a dream. Whatever. He will think about it later.
As he gazed down at the polished surface of a reddish metal dish, surely copper or its counterpart from the magical world, he met its gaze, so similar to those of his fellow clan members, obsidian eyes completely swallowed up by the black color and pale skin.
Staring at himself, he lampooned, who was he trying to fool?
Was he really so calm when Scarlet had clearly shown her desire to get closer to him?
He knew very well that this event, which had turned him into a fugitive doubling as a murderer, had screwed him up.
In the end, wasn't it all coming full circle? He'd run away and ended up crossing the seas. And this time, he'd taken to the sea much faster that expected and had ended up lying on thin, dirty sheets as blood gushed from his throat from a biped fish.
Another runaway. He was always running. That was his life, a flat circle of flight. And now he'd arrived in this other world. Another escape, wasn't it?
He suppressed a bitter smile and continued his ascent alone.
Soon the doors were within his reach. Two corpses leaned against them, their skulls blown apart, and a complex network of Ichor in the form of thick roots buried the area, including the lower part of the door and the floor of the last steps.
He counted the final steps in his head, seven hundred and thirty-two steps in all, having been able to see the steps numbered so far, not knowing what his final number was would have been too frustrating.
He stared at the majestic door, or rather what was left of it.
The left hinge, in brilliant red bronze, took the form of a phoenix, while the right hinge represented a sun with sprawling rays.
The doors were engraved with scenes in relief, and divided into three levels.
The two lower scenes were illegible, buried under a tangle of wriggling blackish vines, but Spica recognized the third. An ant, a giant and an elf gathered in a circle, while in the background loomed. The Story of the Ant, the Elf and the Giant. One of the Stories.
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He remembered the Lighthouse, the river, and the white room. Then he felt whispers creep into his head as a memory of the dull golden sky came back to him.
Light
He stopped haggardly as the tale of the Stories that had been told so many times to young Soudec replayed in his head.
The first story in the first chapter of the Miracles section. The story was called Shining.
A long time ago, when no light yet shone on the world, when Light wasn’t yet Goddess, and when everywhere creatures of darkness and chaos crawled, one of the first miracles took place.
In this era devoid of order, where reason hardly existed and creatures killed each other guided by the instincts of their Hunger, peace seemed only an illusory hope.
One of these days, the Giant was traveling through a forest. How tall he was! He walked with a shuffling, foolish step, seeking to satisfy his Hunger.
This poor young Giant longed to drink a lake, devour a mountain, or enjoy the taste of a few clouds, yet everywhere there was only forest, endless dark green trees, a damp, unpleasant forest whose highest peaks stretched right up to his chest.
In a time when reason had yet to take its course, when the fragility of a nascent world left its first beings vulnerable to indeterminacy, the Giant struggled to survive. Sadly, he had lost his way in search of the mountains and lakes he longed for. His mind was gradually crumbling, making the Giant anxious. He didn’t know how to speak and could only convey his indignation in terrible roars.
His roars caused Ant's poor hovel to collapse. The Ant was indignant, but what could She do in the face of the Giant's cries? She was so small and weak. So, already seeing the other creatures looming, hungry and obsessed with her flesh, she climbed the tallest tree in the forest and found the Elf sleeping in a hammock woven from lianas on the tree's only branch.
This one was one of the blessed beings, never to be plagued by hunger as long as he lived in a forest. Seeing the sloth, the Ant pushed him out of the way and into his hammock, protecting herself from the other monsters chasing her.
What a surprise it was for the awakened Elf to see several beasts ready to devour him. Furious as he was, he summoned his bow and destroyed the mischievous beasts at once. He climbed back up the tree, determined to sleep for a few more decades, when he came across the Ant discreetly hiding in his cozy bed.
His bow reappeared in his hands and he notched an arrow to kill the arrogant one, who bit him straight away. The two engaged in combat.
An arrow that Ant avoided inadvertently plunged into the Giant's eye, ah how furious he was! Not only was the world not helping him, but he'd also received a thorn in one of his eyes! He searched for the source of his pain and found the Elf and the Ant fighting. He rushed forward to crush both beings.
Just then, as the Three were driven by irritated instincts and close to killing each other, Light arrived.
As They stood there, witnessing the tragedy unfolding, Light approached them and said: "Giant, if you give a little help to build a safe house to Ant and she helps gather lots of wood for Elf, don't you think you'll be able to get Elf to guide you out of the forest?
But what was Their disappointment when They remarked that the trio couldn't understand They! Nor could they think, led not by the light of reason but by the darkness of the unconscious.
O how saddened the Fairy was, who in Their grief let all Their light shined through. Bathed in the thick light, the trio were completely illuminated and instantly understood Light’s intentions.
They bowed to her, the Ant snapped his mandibles with strength and respect, the Elf clenched his fists and curtsied slightly, while the Giant laughed and applauded. Stunned, They was delighted to realize that Their Light could fight against the darkness.
From that day on, Giant, Elf and Ant became friends.
As for Light, They had just created Their first Miracle, the Shining.
Spica regained consciousness, realizing that he had passed through the clan's inner circle, an environment just as decrepit and darkly tinted as the outer circle, and had already reached the treasure room of the Spirime clan.
He looked at the phoenix reliefs carved into the long, deeply grooved red stone columns framing the vaulted entrance, beneath the Ichor that partly recovered them, they resembled vile vultures with mocking sneers and lacked the dignity of the firebirds.
He pushed open the heavy doors, letting a thin beam of golden light into the room. He gazed into the vast and silent edifice. Inside, two rows of sober grey stone arches separated the space into three parts.
Slowly, Spica opened the two doors wide, letting in the golden glow that was silhouetted on the floor, and stepped into the building lit by small, gleaming blue gems inserted into the ceiling.
It looks like a church.
The nave served as the main hall, lined with thick wooden boxes containing numerous precious goods, including crystals oscillating between transparency and brilliance, ether crystals he identified.
Other containers were filled with shiny powder resembling crystals, but he didn’t recognize the matter.
Apart from this central nave, there were the side aisles, separated by these arcades of simple columns, all identical and serving as access to the numerous cupboards located in the side aisles niches. The only thing missing to be a true church was an apse.
He looked down at the floor, where filaments of Ichor still lay. He inspected the room in more detail, looking for the source, and discovered on the floor against one of the columns, one of the clan members embracing a now extinguished fire rings salamander of the size of a large sheepdog, both covered in the repulsive substance.
Decady, one of Soudec's cousins. He was the first in their generation to become a Contractor. He had chosen the salamander in the Rift after he had saved him from a herd of Stymphalian birds.
The reptile had astonished all the children by reciting several of the Stories and had propelled Decady to the place of the strongest of the younger generation, even approaching the superior rank of the clan's elders.
Spica heard a rustling like a sheet of paper being crumpled and turned to see two large clusters against the niches at the back right, which he had mistaken for cupboards.
Two large, blackish, pulsating clusters intertwined with completely indescribable constructions of ash and Ichor. They formed a crazy, incoherent structure that looked in turn like flesh, vegetation, coal, ink, and even spider webs.
The nausea inflicted by the sight made him repress it as he sensed that something about it seemed to horrify him to a level he couldn't comprehend. The urge to leave this village was amplified inside him.
He crossed the hall quickly, constantly looking to both sides at the many open cupboards displaying several of precious resources.
Some fragments had come back to him, from the importance of certain materials, notably the few stored lemons; every resource present here was important in its own way.
However, Spica could find no memory of any special weapon that might have helped him defend himself, not even a normal bow or a sword. He could sense that they existed, but none of Soudec's memories spoke of anything other than using contracted creatures or skills.
He searched the area, wandering between the columns, looking for the other element he had an immediate need for.
The young man approached a small, unobtrusive cupboard, where two wretched beige jute sacks occupied the entire space.
These shabby-looking bags were actually space bags. One of the clan's most precious acquisitions was now his personal property.
He remembered his captain, and his advice to never put all his eggs in one basket. He took the two bags and proceeded to empty all the cupboards, stuffing the objects into the two bags, and separating the wealth and goods into two stacks each time.
He meticulously continued his systematic plundering of everything he could find.
From green serpentine wood to glass water, Spica stole everything he could. He paused at the sight of a small black box. Opening it, he discovered three large pieces of black jelly full of small bloody clots.