The week of Arza’s stay in Haven has been a lively one. By now, she’s friends with everyone, adults and children alike, and knows her way around Haven like the back of her hand. She’s been so enamoured with her time here that it’s become nearly impossible to find her, and your only hope is to run into her as she moves from the tailor to the blacksmith, between the school and the Chief’s library, from the tavern to the kitchen.
Despite her frollicking about town, she was never late to our daily flight training sessions. She has taught me a number of helpful exercises and stretches to get used to my flight muscles, but the act of flying is different altogether. I’ve improved my balance and control a lot, but that doesn’t change how exhausting it is, nor can I manage more than five seconds at a time in the air before I have to land or else I’ll just collapse to the ground. It feels like slow progress, but Arza always says I’m doing very well and picking things up very quickly.
As Arza’s weeklong stay began to near its end, though, things changed. Nothing big, nothing that most people would notice, but for Tiff, the Chief, and I, we all picked up on it.
Every morning, Arza would spend longer in bed. Her visits to the library grew longer. She’d lose focus on training, instead just watching the clear mist hang in the air at the base of the Crystalfall. Today, it’s nearly lunchtime, and she still hasn’t gotten out of bed, according to Tiff. Her mind was elsewhere. Or at least, it wanted to be.
“And she’s pretending that these things have never happened whenever we ask her…” The Chief sighs, staring down into her mug, as if the mulled pomegranate wine within will tell her the answer if she glares at it enough.
“All Griffin had to say was that Arza just… gets like this sometimes. He says, given enough time, it’ll pass.” Tiff shrugs lightly, seated between the Chief and I as we discuss in the Chief’s library.
“How does she look to you, Chief?”
“Blue.” Is her answer, her eyes remaining fixated on her wine.
“We know she’s not feeling well, Mia… You can be a little more descriptive than that.” Tiff responds with a small smile.
“No, I mean… the colour around her. It’s all blue. Completely blue. Like she’s thrown a blue blanket over everything else she’s feeling. Perhaps I didn’t give her enough credit in her ability to conceal her emotions…” She lets out another, longer sigh, sinking into her chair. “I’ve always struggled to make sense of that colour. It’s not the same as the fathomless dark blue of a starless night that hangs around Anton like a curse, but it’s certainly no less difficult to perceive through.”
“Normally, I’d associate blue with feelings of sadness, but Anton’s never struck me as a sad person…”
“That’s the thing, Marina. Some people wear one colour about them all the time, no matter what they’re feeling at any given moment. They’re not incapable of feeling a range of emotions, but it just never shows up on them. It can get so overwhelmingly monotonous it genuinely gives me a headache. It makes actually understanding them all the more difficult…” The Chief rubs her temple, as if even just thinking about someone like that does her head in.
“So, someone like Anton has a… halo of dark blue hanging around their head all the time?”
“A halo’s one way of putting it.” She finally takes a sip from her wine, savouring it for a moment. “But not entirely true. The only time his colour changes is when he’s at work in the kitchen. Suddenly, that blue void around his head shines with thousands of tiny white lights, cutting through the darkness like the stars coming out after a nighttime storm. That vanishes almost completely once he leaves the kitchen, though.”
“Sometimes, I wish I could see what you see, Mia. The way you describe what you see sounds so beautiful. Gods, it even makes Anton sound beautiful!” Tiff giggles, but habitually throws a look towards the stairs to make sure she’s in the clear. Anton has a history of abruptly appearing whenever Tiff makes a teasing comment about him.
“It has taken many years for me to come to appreciate the fleeting moments of beauty I witness through my soulseer’s eye. The vast majority of people are just a patchwork mess of colours with no apparent shape or reason. Though, the longer I know someone, the clearer it becomes.” The Chief clarifies. It must take years of practice to get used to seeing so much extra information every time you merely look at someone, let alone figuring out how an entire crowd is feeling.
“Please tell me your refined clarity means you no longer see tree branches and leaves sprouting out from my head like you used to, Mia.” Tiff comments, holding her hands up beside her head and wiggling her fingers to imitate the swaying branches of a tree.
“Mmmm…” The Chief gives Tiff a long, thoughtful look, before taking another sip of her wine. “Still tree branches.”
“What?! You’re telling me you see a starry night sky around Anton but I’m just a tree?” Tiff huffs, sitting upright with her hands on her hips.
“As your temper flares, the green leaves turn to the colours of autumn, ending up a fiery red as it peaks, before they all fall off and the branches are as bare as winter as you dejectedly admit you let your temper get the better of you. Soon enough, though, they start to grow with the young colours of spring.” She describes, as if seeing this all happen in front of her as she speaks. Judging by Tiff’s reaction, she’s not far off.
“You’re really not fair sometimes, you know…” Tiff sulks, crossing her arms before looking across at me. “Since Marina’s here, how would you describe what you see around her?”
The Chief’s inquisitive gaze turns to me, looking my face up and down.
“A flower bed.” She concludes.
“Isn’t that just the same as me?!” Tiff starts.
“No, your emotions tend to move in cycles. Marina’s a green, well-maintained flower bed. At first glance, it’s neat and orderly… until the flowers start to bloom in every different colour conceivable, with no sense of coherence nor order. It’s getting worse the longer I look at her.” Her eyes narrow slightly, as I struggle to imagine exactly what kind of flowers are apparently blooming all around my head. “Patterns do start to emerge after a while, though. Honestly, Marina. Does maintaining eye contact unnerve you so much? The ability to look one in the eye unflinchingly is one of the first things you’re taught in Drachenkoenig, and failing to do so is a grave insult.”
“In the Sovranan Republic, we’re taught that it’s rude to stare, and I don’t think you realise just how intensely you stare, Chief…”
“I’m aware.” She answers unflinchingly. I feel like I’m starting to melt under the harsh, calculating gaze of her silver-gold eyes.
“Getting back to Arza, I’m sure this is different from Anton, given you’ve only recently described seeing all this blue around her…” Tiff steers the conversation back to the original topic, as the Chief finally frees me from her gaze.
“It is different. What concerns me more is she’s supposed to be returning to the Wolf Pup’s home tomorrow, but she seems to have no inclination towards doing that.” The Chief continues, drinking the last of her wine before setting down her empty mug.
“Well, after living in what I can only imagine as the comparative luxury of Haven, I’m not surprised it’s hard for her to just up and leave, even if she has a responsibility to the children under her care…” Tiff admits with a sheepish chuckle. It’s not a light thing she’s suggesting, but it’s not entirely unreasonable to think of. Taking care of children is no easy feat, especially when you don’t really have any breaks from it.
“The only two luxuries Haven has over her residence within the Wolf Pup’s home of the Capital are my books, and the kitchen’s cooking. She’s somehow teleported entire rooms from her palatial homes down to the Abyss. Marble columns, stone floors, clean water, real beds with silk linens and more cushions than you could imagine. Luxury isn’t the issue here.” The Chief refutes Tiff’s point, given she’s seen the luxury of Arza’s Abyssal home herself.
It’s certainly not the comparative luxury that’s distracting her. Nor does she seem the type to skirt her duties, no. It’s something else on her mind. Something that likely has to do with that noise in the tunnels of the Capital.
“Do you remember what I told you and Rann about, Chief, the day we left the Capital to return to Haven?”
“... That thudding noise you talked about.” The Chief realises, sitting up. “The heartbeat. Perhaps, of the Abyss itself.”
“The what of the Abyss?” Tiff blinks, still processing what she heard.
“If there’s truly a physical origin of that noise, that she can hear underground near the Abyss’ centre, but not near its edge in Haven, then…” The Chief furrows her brow, trying to wrap her head around this. “If it’s centrally located, near Dead Man’s Dream… perhaps, truly a physical heart, beating within the earth, imperceptible to most, but not to those with sensitive hearing…”
“Would you be so kind as to fill me in, Marina?” Tiff asks, looking at me with bewilderment at what the Chief is saying.
“When we were at the Wolf Pup’s home, the Capital as they call it, in the Dead Hollows near Dead Man’s Dream, the… these sound ridiculous when I say them out loud. Who came up with these names?”
“Are they more ridiculous than the idea that the Abyss has a real, beating heart?” Tiff can’t help but laugh a little at the incredulousness of the idea that the Chief and I are taking so seriously. It would be hard to take seriously, had you never heard it or been told of it before. At face value, a giant, beating heart buried beneath the earth sounds ridiculous.
“I know what I heard, Tiffany. I haven’t the imagination to spin a tale of something so ghastly as that.” Arezza’s calm, steady voice cuts through the conversation like a knife slicing through gossamer.
Arezza’s sudden appearance at the top of the stairs to the first floor stuns the Chief, Tiff, and I into silence. We were so engrossed in our conversation we never heard her enter the building, let alone walk up the stairs with Griffin silently following behind her.
“A-Arza! I wasn’t…” Tiff laughs awkwardly, trying to backpedal from her previous statement. “I just meant that… um… what could even have a heart so big in the first place? How could it be beating on its own if it’s not in a body?”
“I believe you know the answer to that, Tiff.” The Chief speaks up, looking across at her.
“You can’t mean… actually…” The smile fades from Tiff’s face as the realisation hits her.
“Arnar, I believe you call it.” Arezza answers. “The War-Invader.”
“The true nature of the Gods is something scholars and theologians far more interested than myself have been arguing over for centuries. We know the Remembered Gods “fell in battle”, but if they truly left their physical bodies behind in the Underlands…” The Chief leans back, musing through her thoughts. “There’s no evidence of a gargantuan body in the Abyss, but a beating heart, buried beneath the earth, empowered by the divine, maybe even shaping this pit we live in… it’s not a theory I’d dismiss out of hand.”
“That’s ridiculous, though. You said it yourself, there’s no sign of a god-size corpse down here. How could a beating heart be buried beneath the earth? And if some form of divine will still remains here, truly shaping this wretched hole to be so miserable and punishing to live in, that’s…” Tiff rises from her chair, trying to dispute the Chief’s claims, regardless of how much sense it’s starting to make.
“We’ve discussed this before, Tiff. You yourself said he’d certainly approve of this place, even if he didn’t shape it. The latter may be more true than we had realised.” The Chief responds calmly.
“But that’s… are you kidding me? That…” Tiff struggles for words, almost staggering back into her chair.
Another thing comes to mind from that conversation, that night. Tiff mentioned that she was born under “his moon”. The month of Arnarsaga, or September. As one of the six Remembered Gods, Arnar is revered on Remsday, or Sunday. Just as my birth was considered auspicious, being born on the first Ainesday of Samhraine, being born on the first Remsday of any Remembered Gods’ month is treated the same.
“Tiff, were you…”
“Born on the first Remsday of Arnarsaga, yes. The very first day of his moon. My mother died giving birth to me, so my father and I were all we had. The only hope we had was that my date of birth meant Arnar watched over us. Maybe he did. We never had a bad harvest, and the livestock we raised were so strong and healthy we sold some for profit. All we had to do was be strong in our heart, and Arnar would watch over us. My father told me that, every day. It’s what he believed. It’s what he kept on believing, even on that day he beat me a little too hard and I ended up down here. I was supposed to go to Arnar’s embrace, the place where my mother waited for me and my father. When I ended up down here, I had to come to accept that I’d failed Arnar, and my mother, and my father. Now you’re telling me this hell-hole we may spend the rest of our lives trapped inside, full of monsters, bandits, blood rain and mud, THIS is Arnar’s embrace?!” She found her words. And her temper, as her anger grows more and more as she speaks.
“Where we go after we die is only something we know for certain after the fact, Tiffany. Given our existence here proves the Underlands are real… it’s not unreasonable to think the Lands Above may exist, too.” The Chief says, keeping an even tone as she tries to calm Tiff.
“The Lands Above? Your gods do not reside in the Overlands alongside you?” Arezza asks.
“It’s where we’re supposed to go. Where we’re promised to go, so long as we live according to the Gods’ tenets. Obviously, I failed that, given I’m here.” Tiff angrily responds.
“And why, exactly, would you want to go to the “embrace” of your god, if your own father’s belief in it led to him killing you? The War-Invader was said to be the most brutal of them all. Were they not stopped by my people at great cost, my people would have fallen into ruin, just as so many others fell beneath their iron fist.” Arezza continues, her voice and expression passive, but her choice of words tell she’s not so passive on this subject.
“What would you know about my father’s beliefs…” Tiff grits her teeth, clenching her fist as she stares down Arezza.
“I’ve just never understood how the Damned still cling to their belief and loyalty towards their gods, even though, as the stories you tell yourselves go, ending up “down here” is proof your god has scorned you.” Arezza tilts her head just slightly as she asks another question. It’s hard to tell if she’s asking sincerely, or asking out of cynicism or even mockery, paying no heed to any offence her words may cause. According to her, her people suffered greatly at the hands of Arnar; the War-Invader, as they called him. Why someone like Tiff would still pay any credence to their tenets is something she can’t wrap her head around.
It’s obvious how Tiff took this, though.
She lunged forward at Arezza, hands outstretched and aimed at her neck, as time seemed to slow to a crawl. Griffin, having stood by quietly as the conversation progressed, is now trying to push Arezza aside to protect her, as Arezza stands there silently as Tiff lunges at her. The Chief is rising from her chair, reaching for her staff with her golden chains at the ready, to seize Tiff before she can do anything.
Neither of them reacted in time to stop her. Fortunately, my wings did, as the left wing raced out from under my cloak to its full length, blocking Tiff from Arezza.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Time catches back up, and Tiff is stopped in her tracks as she crashes face-first into my outstretched wing, letting out an ineffectual grunt, and getting a mouthful of feathers before she falls back onto the floor.
“Tiff!” The Chief pants, relaxing her grip on her staff now that Tiff’s no longer threatening Arezza. “What the hells were you-”
Before the Chief can finish her sentence, Tiff already got back on her feet, pushed past Arezza, Griffin, and I, bolted down the stairs, and ran out the door, slamming it behind her.
“... I…” Arezza's voice shakes, clutching her hand to her chest with her wings slinking low by her sides, before taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. “I appear to have offended her quite severely, haven’t I…”
“That’s no excuse for her attacking you, Your Majesty!” Griffin growls, turning his ire on the Chief. “You promised Her Majesty’s safety, Chief of Haven, yet did nothing to stop her being attacked by one of your own people!”
“I didn’t need to. Marina took care of that.” The Chief replied curtly, answering Griffin’s glare with her own. Griffin backs down.
“Though…” She sighs, slumping back down on her chair. “I should have intervened sooner. I saw the leaves turning auburn, yet let her go too far…”
“The fault is with me, Chief Lichtrufer. In my cynicism, I kept probing her belief with questions even as she grew more upset…” Arezza says meekly. Her passivity has crumbled, as her worries and regrets rise to the surface.
The Chief sits upright in her chair, her gaze scanning the three of us left in the room with her before she speaks, gesturing to Tiff’s vacated chair. “Sit.”
“But… shouldn’t we go after Tiff…?” Arezza asks concernedly, pointing towards the stairs.
“She’ll be alright, she just needs some time to herself. We were talking about you before you entered, anyway. Come, sit. And thank you, Marina.” The Chief gives me a nod as Arezza sits down in Tiff’s chair.
“I did hear some of what you said, yes, not that I meant to eavesdrop. You have been gracious hosts, so it is only right that I am honest with you. You are right. I can’t hear that thudding noise in Haven. This past week is the best sleep I’ve had since I ended up in the Abyss, because I can’t hear that noise.” Arezza sighs quietly, resting her hands in her lap. “It’s ridiculous, I know, and I have no intention of just abandoning the Wolf Pups in the Capital. It’s just… I could never truly settle, hearing that noise. That dull heartbeat, buried beneath the earth…”
“It’s not unreasonable to be unnerved by such a noise. Beating hearts aren’t supposed to be buried within the ground, not in either of our worlds. Hearing it could unnerve anyone. I’m surprised you didn’t raise a greater issue over it while we were there, Marina.” The Chief glances across at me.
“I could only hear it if I really focused on it. Otherwise it blended into the background noise and didn’t trouble me too much, thankfully.”
“What is this… Arnar, the War-Invader, like? I don’t understand how someone like Tiff would care about them so much…” Arezza asks tepidly.
“Arnar is both complicated, and not. As far as the divine go, he’s impartial to the extreme. He offers strength to those he believes worthy of it, no matter if they’re an honourable knight or a bloodthirsty brigand. The weak fear adversity, the strong revel in it. The flames of war forge the strongest steel, and the greatest of warriors can accomplish anything with nothing but their own strength. Conflict is the true natural order and to resist it is foolishness… is how his fervent followers tell it. In my honest opinion, he promotes personal strength, and loathes cowardice. Though she didn’t mention it, according to scripture, Arnar would have honoured Tiff’s mother just as he would a warrior, for death in childbirth is considered equivalent to death on the battlefield. He can represent very different things to very different people.” The Chief explains.
“What bearing would a god of war have on everyday life, though? If you don’t mind me asking.” Arezza frowns, asking further questions.
“It’s perhaps better understood when he’s paired with his brother, the God of Peace, Axel. Some find their relation strange in our world, too, how the gods of opposing factors could be close brothers. I asked this question of my tutor myself, once. They are best understood through the lens of conflict. Conflict is often violent, but it drives change and innovation. A lack of conflict allows growth, but it can stagnate if left unchanged. Of course, this was an academic’s opinion of it. A general would have a different opinion, as would a barbarian. The Gods are known all over the world, and have many names and many faces in the many peoples of the world. There are naturally some who think their way of understanding their God is the only way and any other way is heresy, but I’ve never cared that much to argue over which view of a god is the correct one.” She continues with her explanation, as Arezza eagerly listens on.
“I see… then, do either of you favour one of your gods over the others? Do you have a god, Griffin?” Arezza asks the three of us.
“No.” Griffin answers bluntly. “Never cared for them. They’re no use here.” Depending on how old he was when he came to the Abyss, he may have been too young to be taught of them.
“My home country of Drachenkoenig reveres Turona, Remembered Goddess of Fire, above all others. Drachenkoenig is located in the north of our world; so far north it should be buried in snow year-round, were it not for Turona’s fires warming our hearths and her blessed Great Flame at the centre of the capital, holding back the bitter cold of the Remembered Goddess of Winter, Morgana. Given I don’t enjoy freezing to death, I do give thanks to Turona for keeping our homes warm.” The Chief answers.
“The Goddess of Winter… you mean, the Winter-Invader? The Winter’s Heart?” Something clicks in Arezza’s mind, and the Chief nods.
“Yes, I’ve read of the northern sump, Snowbleak, and how its oppressive winters spread further south every year. If the Red Abyss is the result of Arnar’s fall, according to those theories, Snowbleak may be the result of Morgana’s.” She comments, nodding thoughtfully. If this blood-drenched hole we’re stuck in is because of the God of War, then a snow-covered place where it’s always winter may be the result of the Goddess of Winter. She is one of the Remembered, after all.
“I was born on the Ruling Goddess of Summer Aine’s holy day; the first Ainesday of Samhraine, in summer. The Goddess of Summer is popular in my home country, with its warm weather year-round. Though, I guess I’m in the same boat as Tiff. Being born on a God’s “holy day” didn’t do me any good if I’m down here.”
“Why do you call some of them Ruling and others Remembered? What differentiates them?” The more answers we give, the more questions she has. It’s understandable, given that the Underlanders don’t have “gods” in the sense that we do, and the fact that half our gods perished here.
“It separates those Gods whose physical forms exist in the Heavens of the Lands Above, and those Gods who exist in the Heavens of the Lands Above only in spirit. Though the Remembered Gods have long since lost their physical forms, their power and minds still remain intact, and they are still worshipped alongside the Ruling members of the pantheon.” I quoted that verbatim from a textbook I read, but it’s the same explanation that helped me understand the Gods when I was growing up.
“Back to the issue at hand. Arza. Will you be returning to the Capital tomorrow, as planned?” The Chief clears her throat.
“I will be, yes.” Arezza nods calmly. “I apologise for my errant behaviour over the past few days. I admit, my mind has been elsewhere, and it has distracted me from my duties.”
“Your only duty here was teaching Marina how to fly, which you have done every day without fail. You have more than earned some rest, Arza.” The Chief answers, surprising Arezza.
“You mean… You agreed to allow me to visit Haven so I could… rest?” Arezza blinks in disbelief.
“That was simply one of the many factors I took into consideration when I made my decision.” The Chief shrugs lightly, her eyes closed. “It just so happened that I didn’t give you many responsibilities other than seeing Haven for yourself. I have no doubt you were always busy back in the Capital.”
“She certainly has an obtuse way of being kind, doesn’t she?” Arezza giggles at me, drawing an annoyed one-eyed glare from the Chief.
“What matters is that she’s kind, not the way that she shows it.” I laugh it off as best I can.
“Will Tiffany be okay, though…? I must apologise to her for what I said earlier…” Arezza asks again, frowning in concern.
“She’ll be alright, as I said. She just needs some time. Come, it’s lunch time, and I missed breakfast this morning. Let’s get something to eat.” The Chief stands, moving towards the stairs.
The rest of us stand, as Arezza and Griffin head down the stairs. I go to join them, only for the Chief to quietly put her arm in front of me.
“In the cellars. Go down twenty paces, take the entrance to the right, and keep moving right until the cave opens up to the sky. You’ll know you’re headed in the right direction if you hear running water.” She says, quiet enough that only I can hear.
“Is that where Tiff is? Shouldn’t you go see her?”
“I’m… not the best at handling people when they’re upset.” She sighs, looking crestfallen for a moment. “She trusts you. Just check on her for me, okay?”
“Alright. Just get me something for lunch too, please.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you your bloodbeast gravy sandwich.” She rolls her eyes, but smiles.
“We need to think of a better name than “bloodbeast”... it’s not exactly appetising.”
“If you can think of a better one, I’m all ears.” She calls from the bottom of the stairs.
I swear I’ve heard that line before. Was it from Rann? Well, anyway. She asked me to check on Tiff, so that's what I’ll do. If she is where the Chief said she’d be.
…
The Cellars. The name given to the cave system at one end of Haven. It’s where underground vegetables and mushrooms are grown, mud is gathered for making pottery, and people who misbehave are thrown into to reflect on their actions. I was apparently supposed to end up down here when I was first brought to Haven; a fate I managed to avoid.
It’s also worth mentioning that this is the quiet end of town most people don’t visit often, down past the farms. Because this is where the tannery and the blacksmith is.
And the combined smell of heavy earth, soot, crap, and urine is eye-watering, to say the least.
But I have a mission from the Chief, and I push forward, holding my nose as best I can.
Thankfully, the smells coming from the tannery and blacksmith disappear not long after I enter the Cellars, replaced with that earthy, wet cave smell. Surprisingly, the air isn’t stagnant down here like I thought it would be, but I’m given the reason for that as the narrow cave path suddenly opens up before me.
A large subterranean space, nearly as big as the tavern with a long slope spiralling around the walls to the ground appears before me, with several caves running off in different directions. The space is lit with well-maintained torches, casting an orange glow over the stacks and stacks of wooden boxes on the floor. Dozens of them, with only half of them having been opened. Some of the opened crates have practically rotted away to nothing, but the others look almost brand new.
The crate immediately to my left contains several bags of what looks to be flour. Other boxes have simple tools within them, clothes, even books. These are supplies. Loads of them. Likely brought down when Haven was established. It’s so surprising to see all this stuff that I haven’t noticed the guard standing to my right.
“Yo, Marina. What brings you down here?” The guard asks casually.
“W-What the?!” I nearly jump out of my skin, my wings panicking and racing out of my cloak only to hit the cave walls, trying to see who’s… oh.
“Kazuma?”
“Yes, Kazuma here.” He answers glibly.
“What are you… oh, right. You’re a guard, right?”
“Yes, Guard Kazuma here. On Cellar duty. What brings you down here? If you’ve gotten on the wrong side of the Chief, the cells are over there.” He points to one of the smaller caves on the ground floor, and the iron grate door standing in its entrance. So there are cells here. Huh.
“No, but I am here on her behest, uh… you haven’t seen Tiff come down here, have you?”
“She went round to the right, near where the Crystalfall runs underground. Keep to your right and you’ll find it.” He points out, helpfully this time.
“Thanks, Kazuma.”
Round the right I go, just out of sight of Kazuma.
Alright, wings. Why didn’t you tell me he was there? You rarely have trouble informing me of strangers in my presence that I haven’t noticed yet, but this has happened before with others. What gives?
They just shrug, as usual, before slinking back under my cloak out of what I hope is embarrassment. So they don’t have a reason. Maybe they just don’t inform me of people they don’t register as a threat. Kazuma’s never come across as particularly threatening.
Anyway. Resuming my journey, I follow along the narrow path as it snakes upwards through the earth. The darkness quickly returns as I move away from that large underground space, but the growing noise of flowing water tells me I’m going the right way.
It’s not long before the cave gives away to the open sky; a small opening right up against the black cliffs, only accessible from underground. The clear waters of the Crystalfall race by in a shallow stream along the cliff face, snaking around to the left and disappearing underground. Where the water’s end truly lies, who knows. What’s important is that Tiff is sitting on the water’s edge, silently watching it go by as I sit down beside her.
“So, she sent you to check on me.” Tiff sighs quietly, pulling her knees up and resting her chin on them. “She knows how to delegate.”
“She said herself she’s not good at handling people when they’re upset.”
“No, she isn’t, despite her best efforts. It’s one of her few shortcomings. Despite the fact that she can read people like almost no one else can…” Tiff smiles to herself, before letting out another sigh as she stares down at the passing stream.
“Winter’s wrath has stripped your tree, and you’re waiting for the blossom of spring.”
“When did you become a poet?” She cocks an eyebrow as she gives me a sideways look.
“The way she describes how she sees people lends itself well to poetry. Besides, many of our instruments went to bards, musicians, composers; the poetic types.” I shrug lightly. It just came to me on the spot.
“Well, you’ve checked up on me. Go and tell her I’ll be fine; I’ll just keep to myself before dinner.” She waves me off, returning her gaze to the stream. She knew why the Chief sent me here.
“Are you fine, though?”
“I said I’ll be fine, not that I am fine.” She responds, her eyes fixed on the water.
There’s more she wants to say. I’ll sit by quietly as she finds her words.
Some minutes pass, how long, I can’t say for certain. This is the perfect little hideaway to be alone in, tucked away in the Cellars. Only one way in, hidden from sight; just you, the waters of the Crystalfall, and the towering black cliffs silently looming over you. It makes you feel small, but safe. Safe, where no-one can hurt you.
It’s difficult to tell how deep the stream actually is; the water’s so clear you can see straight to its black, rocky bed. You just sit and watch; you don’t even think of touching it, lest you disturb its calm, even surface. It winds around us from the left, coming right up against the cliff before turning downwards, disappearing near the cave’s wall beneath the surface. The opening above the cave is just large enough to let through the clouded natural light that reaches the Abyss, but if pure sunshine could reach this far down, no doubt the water would reflect brilliantly across the walls, lighting up this little cave hidden away from the world.
“I don’t know what came over me, to be completely honest. I’m not a priest, nor a zealot by any means. I only believed because my dad did. Yet, I wanted to just grab her neck and squeeze. I got so angry so quickly. Not for myself, but for my father. The father that killed me. The father that… I still love, even after what he did to me.” Tiff begins to speak. I let her continue.
“I still can’t imagine what it’s like; gaining a child, but losing your spouse. We only know what we know. I only knew what I knew, growing up without a mother. My father would speak of her every day. Tell me about how she smiled, what her laugh sounded like, her favourite food, and the promise he made to her to raise me, even as she was dying in his arms. At least, my father seemed to take genuine solace that my mother had gone to Arnar’s embrace. War God or no, being shepherded by a God to the afterlife was more comforting than falling to oblivion, let alone going to Hell…” She chuckles mockingly at her own expense. “His daughter, so blessed by Arnar he said, certainly didn’t go to heaven.”
“My birth was blessed by Aine, yet here I am alongside you. I’ve started to think… either the Gods just don’t care, or their blessings never meant much to begin with.”
“Yet their curses are no less potent.” Tiff leans back, looking up at the cliff before us. “After all, we’re trapped in one.”
“If we are truly within the remains of the God of War, that just leaves me with one question.”
“Why would a God of War only resurrect the souls of children.” She answers.
“And why has it changed from what it once was, resurrecting or rebirthing people regardless of age…”
“Maybe that’s why I reacted the way I did. I knew… or I thought I knew Arnar. He’s stoic and tough, promotes strength and loathes cowardice. I was growing up strong and healthy, and I felt my dad and I could do anything together if we gave it our all. Arnar is harsh, but fair. But, dragging children down to this miserable hole, full of monsters and dangers around every corner, it’s just…”
“Cruel.” I finish for her.
“The Arnar I know wasn’t cruel. He didn’t care who he gave his strength to, but he was never callous. Maybe we are, truly, standing on his remains. But whatever power has taken control over the Abyss… it isn’t Arnar.”
“Then what could it be?”
“I don’t know.” Tiff shakes her head. “But if it has a beating heart… it’s definitely alive.”
“Well. You know the saying. If it bleeds, we can kill it.”
“I… don’t know that saying.” Tiff blinks in disbelief. “Where did the daughter of a luthier hear something so brutal?”
“A-ah… it was… in an adventurer’s novel I read once about people hunting a monster only to find out that they were the hunted all along. I just thought it sounded cool.”
“I suppose so.” Tiff giggles, standing and stretching her legs. “We should head back… I need to apologise to Arza for lunging at her like that. She was just asking questions about things she has a different view on. No real reason for me to see red and attack her…”
“Arza wants to apologise too. She realised she went too far after you left.”
“Then it’ll be an apology over lunch. Running all the way here worked up my appetite.” Tiff grins, back to her usual self.
I can almost see the bright green leaves of spring begin to sprout from her cold winter branches as her smile lights up the cave.