The students started trickling back into the auditorium. Kanrel wondered what kind of questions they might have for him, and he began to prepare for the barrage of questions that would undeniably come.
During the twenty or so minutes, Kanrel pondered about the things that he had just learned. And to be frank, he didn’t have that many, only a few. After all, the reason why he had requested a book about the God Who Hung was quite simple; he wanted to confirm if the book that he had read above had any truth to it or if it was just something someone made up.
There was one question that was unlikely to be answered: How did such a book survive possibly thousands of years, and who translated it so that men could read it? But how would the Atheians know the hows or the why’s of something that is so out of reach?
As the last student entered and the doors closed behind them, the auditorium that was at first filled with whispers of conversations that they had with each other became quiet and so silent.
Gar stared at the crowd, scanning the faces of those present. After a minute or two, he nodded his head, and a slight smile came to his face. He then turned his gaze toward Kanrel and spoke, “Now that you’ve received the information that you wished to learn, I must ask if you have questions about it all.”
“And we’ll then see if the students of our humble abode of education can answer them.”
Kanrel stared back. He then got up from his chair and cleared his throat. “I don’t have many questions about this piece of history in particular, only a few that I think to be interesting enough to pursue further." He explained and glanced at Y’Kraun, who translated each word Kanrel spoke.
“Ask away.” Gar encouraged.
“What I will ask first are opinions about certain things that I’ve just learned.”
“Firstly, what do you think of the culture of the once great Atheian Empire? There was a mention of segregation based on what seems like social class. Does a serf deserve to be hung for entering the wrong part of a city?” Kanrel asked, his gaze scanning the crowds and looking for reactions, but those many faces and eyes upon him were difficult to read.
Gar in turn observed only Kanrel; he then smiled and spoke, “You may freely stand up and present your opinion on this matter.”
The silence continued, and none would stand up; many seemed to ponder the question they were presented with, and for a moment, Kanrel believed that he would not get an answer to his question, but soon, someone in the back stood up. Kanrel’s gaze found the Atheian who had stood up, and he waited for them to speak. The Atheian stared at Gar and waited for permission to speak. Gar gave them a nod, and then they cleared their throat and spoke, “Firstly, the culture of the Old Empire isn’t in practice much different from that which is now; perhaps it has become freer in certain ways, especially when it comes to social things.”
“Such development is normal, and I do believe if someone from back then would suddenly find themselves living in this time, they’d be considered rather backward when it comes to the rights of the general populous." The student spoke, their gaze finally only on Kanrel.
“Secondly, the matters of social class do seem to still be present even in our times, but I suppose that the structure has changed ever-so-slightly; who are and who aren’t on top of this hierarchy are different."
“And thirdly, I don’t think that anyone sane of mind would agree that a serf ought to be executed for something so minor. Not only is it cruel but also a waste of resources.” The Atheian finished, bowed, and then sat back down.
All the while Gar nodded along, “Is there anyone here with a differing opinion on the matter?” He then asked.
After a while, another student got up, this one from the very first row. “I think that one can’t help but romanticize things of old; this can be seen not only in how built our cities of today but also in the art that we produce; even the stories and the poems that we write, they often look back at those days with rose-tinted glasses, remembering that which once was, as something better.”
“They are often remembered as ‘the good old times,’ and I cannot help but question this outlook on the history of our people that is far more violent than that of today; our culture back then would be considered brutal and even barbaric based on today’s standards.”
“Of course, the allure and the mysticism of those days cannot be denied, but in reality, none of us would survive those days; we’d always yearn for the rights that we have today.” The Atheian then sat down.
Gar again nodded along; he seemed satisfied by both answers: “I’d like one more differing opinion on the matter.”
A third Atheian stood up, this one from the right side of the auditorium, and said, “Yet that and this still is our culture; we cannot deny who we are and where we came from. I believe that there are reasons as to why we had such a system, and I think that those reasons qualify today as well, for do we not still have the same system in place today?”
“The only difference really is that the average Atheian, despite their social status, is treated better now than back then. Otherwise, we are still the same.”
“It works; thus, for what reason must we change? If it works, it works.” They finished and sat back down.
Gar nodded along, pleased with even this answer. He then turned toward Kanrel and asked, “Does this satisfy you, or do you wish to have more people answer?”
Kanrel pondered for a moment, “This will do.”
“Great, then I’d like to give the turn to our students so that we might have a more or less open dialogue between all of us,” Gar said with a smile and again gave permission for anyone to stand up and speak.
Soon someone in the front stood up and spoke, “We’ve all had the pleasure of reading reports of the many meetings that you’ve had with different members of the Great Library; this has been of great value to all of us, but there seems to be something missing.”
“In those reports, you mainly focus on the history of Darshi as well as the religious organization known as the Priesthood... Why do you not speak of yourself more?” The Atheian asked and remained on their feet, waiting for Kanrel’s reply.
Kanrel couldn’t help but scoff, “Well, I only answered the questions that were asked of me; so far, not many have shown interest in my history; instead, they’ve preferred to ask me about the history of my people and what there might be above nowadays.”
“I would’ve answered such questions earnestly if asked,” Kanrel explained, and the student seemed to accept this and sat back down.
Soon the next Atheian got up from their seat and asked, “Then would you answer this question that many of us have had on our minds ever since we first heard of you: How did you get here?”
Kanrel pondered for a moment, then answered with a straight face, “I walked, and then I fell.”
Y’Kraun snorted and translated, causing some chuckles to fill the auditorium.
“It is a lot more complicated than that." Kanrel then continued, “As a priest, I was ordered to a remote location at the edge of our kingdom; there, my mission was to find proof of an organization that had murdered a few students at the Academy, where I studied at the time, as well as of a missing priest that had suddenly disappeared about a decade before that.”
“I spent about two years of my time in that village, finding clues, which then led me to ancient ruins near the mountains. There I defeated these cultists and ventured into those ruins, deep below ground, where I found even more questions when I only sought answers.”
“Below, I found the corpse of the priest that had disappeared, as well as his journal. The journal mentioned something that I found intriguing at the time: a desire to enter something, so I wanted to find out, What was this thing they so wanted to enter?”
“So I descended, and descended until I reached a dark mirror, and in this mirror, I saw myself from years ago, a reflection of me when I still was a child.”
“I heard a voice that so demanded, that begged me to enter...”
“So I entered.”
“And then…” Kanrel muttered, not sure what to say next, not sure what to share with these Atheians... What could he tell them? What could they understand? “And then I fell.” He finished and stared back at the Atheain, who had asked him this question. Y’Kraun translated each word, and soon after whispers filled the auditorium. Now, there was much curiosity in the air.
Even Gar couldn’t hide his lust for further knowledge. But still, he controlled himself and, with a smile, said, “Now let us give a turn to our esteemed guest to ask a question in return.”
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Kanrel pondered for a moment, soon finding the question that he had wanted to ask before: “It is mentioned that this... true god... was placed in a crypt, their body still intact and yet to rot, waiting for the day of reckoning.”
“Do you believe that the day of reckoning already arrived when the Lord From Above came and forced you beneath the ground, or is it yet to come?” Kanrel asked.
Y’Kraun again translated, but he seemed somehow bothered by the question.
Gar once more encouraged the students to rise from their seats and answer the question as they saw fit.
The same student who had been the first to answer Kanrel’s question got up, “If you’d ask a member of the Herd, they’d tell you that the day of reckoning is yet to come. And if you’d ask the Church of the Lord Above, they’d tell you that the day of reckoning was indeed the same day, when their God laid our empire into ashes.” They answered and then went ahead to sit down, but were soon forced to stand back up again as Kanrel spoke, “I wish to hear what you think, and not what they think.”
The Atheian seemed startled; they glanced at Gar, who only gave them a nod, yet the Atheian didn’t seem any less nervous all of a sudden. "Well... Personally, I believe neither.” They replied.
“Why?”
“I just don’t believe that there will be some great reckoning, as I do not wish to believe that if there is a god or gods, that they’d do such a thing to people who were mostly innocent and only an outcome of the times that they lived in.” The Atheian was silent for a moment, then continued, “Neither do I recognize the so-called God Who Hung nor the Lord From Above as gods. Nor do I think that the Sharan were gods. In fact, I don’t believe that there ever were such things as gods."
“Why?”
The Atheian blinked their eyes, "Because... because... Why would such a creature exist? And why would they ever bother with creatures like us, the Atheian and the Darshi alike? Or even the Sharan?”
“I just believe that sometimes there are people and creatures with such great power that they claim themselves to be gods, or those who are lesser in power than they, who then choose to claim those powerful creatures as their gods.”
“And sometimes, these gods are just ways for men to explain things that they cannot understand... For example, long before, there are mentions of the old gods: the God of Wind, the God of Rain, the God of the Seas, the God of Fire, and so forth.”
“Weren’t these just things that we couldn’t quite understand? When the first Atheians sparked a flame for the first time, or saw it through other means, would they not think of it as something holy, as something divine, and might not the person who managed to spark that flame become one considered divine as well?” The Atheian spoke with such fervor and belief that Kanrel could only nod a long and mostly agree.
“Thank you,” Kanrel said at last, and the Atheian at last sat back down; on their face remained that startled expression.
All the while, Gar smiled and glanced back and forth between Kanrel and the student who had just spoken. Silence had conquered the auditorium, and it seemed that none dared to stand up and offer any further thoughts or arguments in favor of or against Kanrel’s question.
“Well now,” Gar at last broke the silence. “It is starting to get quite late, and I do believe that all of us have gotten much to think about, as well as bellies to fill with troglobites and what-not.”
“You are all dismissed; we will continue tomorrow from where we left off," Gar said, and one by one, the students began to leave the auditorium, and soon after only the three remained. Kanrel, Y'Kraun, and Gar.
“Wonderful, it is just as I had expected,” Gar exclaimed, his ocean-blue eyes studying Kanrel’s face. “You may leave; I too have much to think about.” He said with a smile.
Kanrel and Y’Kraun bid him a farewell and left him alone in the auditorium, and if they were to look back, they’d see as his eyes followed them until the very moment when the doors were closed, and that smile on that face became more pleased by the moment.
Y’Kraun led them straight to the restaurant where U’Ran’Ui worked as a waitress. They ate well, and Y’Kraun seemed to push himself to ask seemingly innocent questions out of the Atheian, who would answer with a sweet smile on her face. All the while, Kanrel was occupied with his own thoughts, writing notes about the things he had learned as well as the different answers that the students had given him.
The day ended with him returning to his apartment, reviewing his notes, and making a few more, until he felt so tired that he just had to go to bed.
The next week or so, every day Kanrel and Y’Kraun would enter the Grand Library as well as the auditorium, where they would continue on the topic of the God Who Hung and the history around them. Gar would read to them from old books, then Kanrel would ask questions, which the students would give answers to, and then they’d get to ask Kanrel questions in turn, often about him and humans overall. Things about their culture, their cities, their ways, and even about the world around them. What do the mountains look like? What about the stars? Just how bright is the sun? What does rain feel like?
And after a week or so, they finally moved on to the next topic.
The auditorium was filled with students as they waited for their professor to begin reading the next book.
“Today, we will begin with another topic in which our esteemed guest has shown interest: our arrival to these lands of shadows below, the construction of the City of Last Light, and the walls around them," Gar explained; he then cleared his throat and began to read:
“After we surrendered to the Gods above, or the Sharan, as we call them. The first Atheians met their eyes with darkness so vast no light could fully conquer it.
We were disgraced. Humiliated. Thrown below the earth as a reminder that we were nothing in the eyes of those far too powerful for us to understand.
It was a great staircase down which we descended, a thousand and thousand more steps, with darkness all around. We held each other so as not to fall, some of us bringing light with us so that we would not miss a step and fall to our deaths. Some used their magic to do the same; all we now knew was the descent and the darkness that surrounded us. It was as if there were shadows around, below, within, and soon above as well.
The one that had doomed us to this darkness walked behind us; each step they took brought a part of the staircase, making sure that we might never ascend these same stairs so that we might return to the world above.
And when we reached the bottom, the Sharan simply commanded us to walk forth until we would find a place to settle; then they began closing the last light that we saw coming down from above. We were the last Sharan to see the sky.
With great chains, they pulled the very earth together, forming stone to block our way out. And we could do was as they wished us to do; we made our way west, in the eerie darkness that surrounded us—the shadows that were there, around, above, and within.”
“We lost the sense of time; days and the concept of one were soon lost. There was no light to give knowledge of this, thus some of us were made to make guesses based on the time when we first went below. Then it had been midday.
Now, we must’ve traversed for weeks. Along the way, we find no place to suit our needs, no proper sources of food, and no water to drink. Hunger, thirst—that is all we found below. Water we can make, but one must eat to survive. And so we ate... Not all of us got to eat.”
“Is there hope? Does such a thing exist? Death and disease, hunger—we were so hungry. Yet we couldn’t stop; we had to find hope. There must be hope. There had to be...
At the end of the tunnel, there came a blue hue; it traveled from far and blessed our eyes with light so blinding that many were unable to confront it face first. We do not know for certain just how long we have walked. How many days or nights had it taken? Not how many lives we had lost... We had to eat.
This light, so bright, was made out of crystal that covered most of the cave ceiling. Its light lit this whole section of the darkness. This cave became our home, and the light showed us that soon we all could eat. That there was hope; even in the most complete darkness, one can find hope.
Thus we settled and made tents from the clothes of those that were lost on the way here. We created parties who would explore further and find water and food; insects we found and mushrooms—that was enough. We were saved.
And thus, we found the City of Last Light, a city made from cloth, and in a decade, it was a city of stone—not as great as those we built above, but something that reminded us of who we once were.”
“The Walls… It became our final resting place. We must become a part of the city; we must protect our children from the shadows that gather at the edges of the light. The shadows that veil our way back. We cannot go back—we tried and none returned.
It smolders and it moves. It screams and whispers—no words that can be understood—but fear is all we feel. We who conquered the darkness now learned to fear the shadows.
Only the light can protect us; only the light can keep us safe. We must stay in the light.
It was a vision, a future that they had seen. Or so was told to us, and thus began the construction of the walls. A perfect circle and ten ells worth of empty perimeter on both sides of the walls; we were not told at first why, but the Council was adamant; it had to be done, they said. The shadows would come, they promised.
Everyone took part in its construction, from the strong and the weak, the women and the men, even the children, who were told to haul stone and shape it so that the walls could be built as fast as possible. And fast they rose; from nothing came walls that made us feel safer; they made us not worry about what might exist in the darkness... But some were afraid that again the Sharan would come and punish us for trying to reach the heavens, as the walls were soon taller than anything that we had built below.
On the walls, great magicians carved the history of our people; but on them, they engraved something else as well, something that could not be understood by the meager minds of those who have not studied the arcane for most of their lives.
Yet we saw that they were beautiful, for they made us feel safe...”
“It was a month after the walls were finished when the first ritual commenced. A member of the Council, now old and near death, announced that her time had come to an end; she and the Council invited the people to witness her near the walls.
She walked where no one else was allowed to walk, and the other Council members followed. A speech was held, where she declared what must be done, or we would all die. She told us that even in death, we had to protect those who were left behind. She unmasked herself, and for the first time, we could see a member of the Council; we now knew that she was once an Empress, the ruler of us all when there still had been an Empire to rule.
In great shock, we witnessed as she and the members of the Council walked to the walls; she stood there and spread her limbs and went against the walls. Then the members of the Council, from beneath their cloaks, brought out relics of old and pierced her limbs against the walls, praying out loud in words we could not understand, in a language none had ever heard before.
Her screams filled our world, her skin became darker than before, and the very stone of the walls glued itself to her; she went quiet, and her eyes stared ahead. In the blue of her eyes lay fear; her watchful gaze saw something that the rest could not...
She was the first of the so-called Ancients that now stare toward the east, toward the darkness that is said to smolder and move, to scream and whisper in a choir of many voices.
She was not the only one to go through with it; since then, most who were close to death became one with the walls. Yet we were uncertain why this was.” Gar finished reading at last. Their deep voice, that of a talented narrator, pronouncing each word with solemn detail, drawing out at times the feelings of those who might’ve written these records. Their despair and loss, and at last, their newfound hope.