Perhaps there is no hope after all. If those who are sent to enter the shadows, the veil, as they had dubbed it, slowly enter insanity only to then die, or at least get lost seemingly leaving not a single body behind. And those who touched and returned then could no longer be without its touch, either longing to enter it once more, to become one with it, to truly understand and comprehend what the whispers tried to tell them... or wanting to no longer hear those very whispers.
What awaited in those shadows? What might one find if given a chance to explore them? Would one find that there was no hope at all, as did those who had lost their lives in its darkness? Or would there be something else... Perhaps a blocked staircase that one could climb? Meeting the ceiling of the cave that was there as the wall between the darkness below and the lights that lit the sky during the day and night.
Regardless of whether there was a way out, or if there wasn’t one, even then this would be the only way out to find out if one or the other is true, or if neither is. One could claim that there was no hope, but in truth, there either never was or there always is. Only by seeing for yourself and experiencing that which has no hope can you claim to know that one or the other is correct. Perhaps there will be that tiniest bit of hope, a mere sparkle in the eternal darkness that allures you to find your way to it and accept its lonesome embrace. Or... the darkness is just that. Dark, and no matter how far or for how long you blindly try to navigate through it, you never find anything else than more of the same. More darkness, more shadows, more hopelessness...
Gar had surprised him. The Atheian professor wasn’t as detached as Kanrel had imagined him to be. For a while, they had seemed like a scholar who had no other desire than to drink from the stream of knowledge to sate their thirst. Emotions such as those that Gar had expressed through his eyes, his voice, and mannerisms after reading about the expedition weren’t something that he’d ever expect from him.
This was, in a way, a judgment that Kanrel had placed upon someone he barely knew. Like an accusation one has placed upon another person’s character, making it something that defines who they are in your eyes when the reality might be so very different. Gar might’ve been the most empathetic person that Kanrel had ever interacted with so far, or they could be the complete opposite.
How would Kanrel know? Thus, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by his own hasty judgment of another creature. The eyes deceive as much as does your own mind and your own heart, and as much as the lips of others...
Of course, one can’t really help but judge others. Is it not something each somewhat intelligent creature does? We observe each other, and based on those observations, we form opinions. Sometimes, they might correct, but it must be so that most of the time, what we think we know of someone else is nothing more than a projection of something that we are afraid to be or to face.
A judgment formed by our own biases, as we so adamantly try to claim that we are fair, because what else could I be if not that?
The next day, finally, Kanrel was allowed to ask the questions that had begun to fill his mind. This intense curiosity, like a hammer that kept hitting his temples at a constant pace, reminded him that he lacked knowledge of something that was so very intriguing and pivotal one way or another.
The atmosphere within the auditorium was solemn as the students observed their professor, who by now had claimed back their usual mask. He smiled as if he hadn’t canceled the last few hours of yesterday's lecture; instead, Gar made no mention of it.
“I believe that everyone has had plenty of time to gather their thoughts and form opinions as well as questions that might need answers. I am quite excited to hear what, not only Kanrel, but our students might have on their minds.” Gar spoke; his voice was as it was always, even and deep. He then nodded toward Kanrel, giving him the cue to begin.
Kanrel cleared his throat and began, somewhat hesitantly, asking his questions, “It has come to my attention that this very topic could be rather difficult to talk about.” He said, and he couldn’t help but glance at Gar, who just smiled as if the words weren’t pointed at him. "But such need to be talked about, even if they cause grief and anger, for how else are we to remember those who are now gone... Even if they died for nothing, let us remember them. I am sure that they do not wish to be forgotten." Y’Kraun translated everything; he too, at times, couldn’t help but glance at Gar.
In Gar’s eyes, something flashed for a moment, but it soon disappeared. For a moment, Kanrel couldn’t help but wonder if it was something he said—perhaps appreciation, perhaps anger related to what they had read yesterday...
“My first question is simple,” Kanrel said and then returned his gaze to the hundreds of students that had gathered in the large auditorium. “Did they, truly, die for nothing?” He asked, and those words were left to linger and then cling themselves to the silence that was then born out of them.
Before any of the students could answer, Gar chose to speak, “One could claim that yes, they indeed died for nothing... But there was something that we learned from it.” His voice was as it always was: “As far as we know, no other expeditions were sent beyond the veil. The second expedition was the final one.”
“We now know that we can’t traverse and return to the lands from where we came from. We now know that these lands will be our home for all eternity, until the moment of our inevitable extinction.”
“We know, and we somewhat knew before, that if one were to come into contact with the veil for long periods of time, they’d lose their mind for good, leaving nothing more than a husk, who would only speak of things they heard within the shadows; they’d only remember what the shadows want them to remember... forgetting who they are, who they loved, who loved them, and where they belong... They instead always long to return to that darkness and to become one with it.” Gar explained, “Is this a sufficient answer?”
Kanrel nodded and pondered for a moment, then he asked his next question, “Then the next questions are as follows." He let his gaze go from student to student. “There were mentions of 'reinforced crystal lamps...' What are they, and how are they different from those that lit your cities?”
Again, the students remained silent, as Gar was the one to answer, “They aren’t any different. We began using those so-called' reinforced crystal lamps’ not long after the failures of the expeditions. One could say that this invention was at least something that made the lives lost worth it."
“Then have you continued to improve upon these lamps? Are they now more efficient at keeping the shadows at bay?” Kanrel asked.
“Only the manufacturing process has changed and become more efficient, and the amount of resources one lamp needs has decreased. So far, there has been no need to create stronger lamps, and when there have been attempts to create them, the cost has been too high to make it worth it.”
“Of course, I am no expert on lamps and the process of making them, but these lamps have been in use for the better part of a thousand years without much change.” Gar explained, his smile by now seemed only curt, nothing else, his voice still even, and in his eyes there was a question that was soon asked, “Why would you care to know more about these lamps? Do you have plans to start an expedition of your own, perhaps to make clear your own previously asked question of ‘did they die for nothing?’”
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Kanrel turned toward Gar; by now it was clear that the students wouldn’t be allowed to answer any of his questions, “Perhaps. After all, I don’t belong here, now do I? Beneath, there is none of my people. Far above, still live my family and friends. There still remains the sky that I long to see—the warmth of the sun and the memory of it, even when the feeling of it has begun to dwindle.”
“Everything that I have ever loved still exists above. Is it normal for any man to aspire to return whence they came from? Weren’t your forefathers the same? Did they not try, even when it seemed nigh impossible?” Kanrel asked, then scoffed, “I wonder, if your people had kept trying to make their way out, would they have already returned to where they came from? Would they, by now, have unlocked the secrets that they need to navigate that darkness?”
“Of course, such cannot be certain; the very thought of it is entirely hypothetical... But if I were to be curious about this and willing to enter that darkness to see for myself if there truly was no way out, then why not? Is not only my own life at stake? I might die after the first try, or I might after many such tries, already an old man, one who can barely remember just how blue the sky could be, or just how colorful the first flowers in bloom were.” Kanrel spoke; his eyes had by now met Gar’s gaze, the deep blue of them, a storm that raged in them that then subdued as if, at last, understanding the fears of the human, who so earnestly tried to grasp that tiny lingering spark of hope that was in danger of getting swallowed by the darkness that surrounded it.
Gar’s expression softened, and so did his voice. “Perhaps such a hypothetical world could be real. But it isn’t easy for a wife to lose her husband, nor for a child to live without a father.”
"Perhaps this was the easy way out. To accept the fate we were dealt. The judgment, however unfair and unjust we believe it to be, we had to accept it so that no child would lose one or both pillars of their life.”
“Kanrel, I fully understand what you wish for. And I cannot block nor truly criticize what you wish to do, but couldn't this world below be another home for you? Have you not already made meaningful connections and become a part of our society, even if you still feel like an outsider, even if many see you as such as well?" He spoke, and never before had he sounded so gentle or seemed so worried.
“At least try to live among us, and if you find one day that you cannot, then I wouldn’t blame you for entering the veil and the darkness that can only kill you. And when that day comes—no—if that day comes, then I will help you. Even when I would know that all I would be doing is helping a man kill himself.” Gar promised, his eyes were an ocean, a calm sea, and in them, there was the horizon, where a sparkle, like the setting sun, lit those eyes with something that brought Kanrel a realization. The Atheian before him meant every word they had said. Gar’s smile was gentle, friendly, even, but Kanrel couldn’t smile back; he didn’t dare to form a lie upon his face, so instead he spoke, “I am not ready to cast aside the hope that I have just found, but... I will try, as I seek a way out from here, among your people friends whom I might trust... Perhaps then, when I am old and still have not found my way out from here, I’d be surrounded by those friends in my final moments, and then dying without regret.”
“Gar, I will gladly accept your offer.” Kanrel finished.
The Atheian’s smile widened slightly, then an awkward silence filled the auditorium.
A student in the front collected their wits and all the bravery they had within and got up and spoke, “Your conversation is deeply appreciated, surely by all, but... it does seem a little bit too private to be made so public.” Their voice faltered a little as Gar glanced at them. “No, this was the perfect moment, the perfect timing, and the perfect place to have such a conversation... In fact, you all should take notes, for is this not a great example of two creatures of two different races interacting with each other quite peacefully, both offering conciliations after a somewhat heated exchange?” Gar spoke, in his voice such authority.
“One could even claim this to be a masterful presentation on communication!" Gar added, but one could not miss the poorly veiled embarrassment in his demeanor.
Kanrel cleared his throat, “I agree. This, by far, has been one of the most meaningful conversations that I have had with one of your kind during these past months that I’ve lived here.”
"Well, thank you; I do try.” Gar muttered, then sighed, “But alas, we should continue with a more open dialogue, as well as further reading about these expeditions as well as other so-called encounters Atheains have had with the veil and its shadows.”
The next week or so, they continued with this topic. And by now, there was a different atmosphere in the auditorium during each session, one much more open than before, one not so stifled by rank or perceived status in society. All seemed to get their fair chance to ask questions and answer them, and information seemed to flow naturally and freely.
During the last session regarding the Veil and the Shadows, Kanrel heard the story of the first contact that the Atheians had with the shadows:
“For a decade, even when many became one with the Walls, there was this growing doubt about the functional purpose of the walls as well as the last words of the final empress of the Atheian Empire. There were no enemies below the earth; there were just the Atheians.
The City of Last Light had become greater and its population stable, and many expeditions had been sent to explore lands further south and west, finding suitable locations for new settlements as well as new veins of crystals that could be used to light their city and to build new settlements around.
But it seems that our punishment for the crimes proclaimed by the Sharan was far from over.
The following is an eyewitness account of the first contact with what they dupped as ‘the Smoldering Darkness’:
It was an early morrow during which I planned to begin mapping our way back, for had it not been such a long time since we were locked here? One can’t help but wonder if the Sharan had forgiven us by now or if the way back was truly blocked for good.
I brought with me nothing more than supplies for a day's worth of travel, paper, and pens for map making, as well as notes of things that had been left unreported by us when we first made our way here.
I made no further than an hour when I saw it past the hills and forests of stalagmites. Upon the surface of a small pond, one made by us, during our arrival... I do not wish to think of those poor souls who lost their lives not that far away from the place that we’d make our home that very day...
Darkness slowly encroaches; at first, I thought it to be just a shadow of something above, but as I approached it with a crystal in my hand, it would not move or part as did the normal darkness around me.
It... smolders... and moves as if in a constant yet inconsistent heartbeat upon the surface of a lake, as if waves pulsate, but instead of it being just one heartbeat or just one pulse, it is many, and they waver together in differing rhythms... And—and… I could hear a voice, a whisper, words that I could not understand, and then it jumped toward me, and only the light I held in my arms kept it at bay.
I ran, leaving behind all except the crystal in my hands. I ran and I ran, and when I looked back, that smoldering darkness would follow me; it would try to catch me, the whispers following, the voices in this choir of so many screaming for me to return to them, to remember them...
I reached the walls of our city in less than an hour. I had not stopped running for once, and that smoldering darkness followed me until the edges of the darkness around our city, only the light of our new sun kept them at bay. That is when I heard the screams from far away, not from within the city, but from the outside; not the voices of that choir of darkness, but the voices of our kind, who now were lost to the darkness forevermore...”
There were other recounts as well. One that told of how that smoldering darkness then surrounded their City of Last Light. The Atheians had believed that they’d conquered the darkness, but another darkness then came, ushering them into a new age of fear, and it took them a decade to break this siege as the shadows moved away for an unknown reason, giving them a chance to build the first types of their lamps as well as mirrors, which they then used to redirect light toward the south and the west.
Apparently, the process of “conquering” the lands lost to the darkness had been a great task. One that was a slow process, but the smoldering darkness and the gathering of the shadows weren’t so thick and powerful in those parts, and they did try to do the same toward the east as well, but it had been impossible, as their lamps wouldn’t last for long at the edge of that darkness; only the crystal above was potent enough to last and keep the darkness at bay. Some claimed it to be because of the help of the Walls and those that now had become a permanent part of them, but it was difficult to prove if it were one or the other. All they knew was that the light visibly worked…
And from now on, it wasn't just Kanrel and Y'Kraun that would eat lunch or sometimes even dinner at the restaurant where U'Ran'Ui worked, since Gar began to join them, as both Kanrel and Gar would, with great interest—and more so amusement from Gar—observe Y'Kraun's antics, or rather his attempts at flirting, as well as his attempts at courting the apparently beautiful U'Ran'Ui.