They kept a low profile for the next two days, staying in the Moon-kissed’s estate. A more-than-usual number of patrols marched past the house, but beyond that, things remained peaceful. Not wholly trusting in the Moon-kissed, Jasper slipped out once or twice to make a few quiet preparations of his own, moving their mounts back to the harbor and making sure the hunters were prepared to sail at a moment's notice.
But there was little else for him to do but wait. With nothing but time to spare on his hands, Jasper finally sat down to meditate.
He slipped easily into the void, the familiar bonfire greeting him when he opened his eyes. The flames burned lower than usual, the outer edges of the pit smoldering more than burning, as a chill wind raked across the tiny camp. As always, Jasper arrived on the opposite side of the fire from where Kas̆dael sat, so he walked around the partially burning pyre ready to greet her.
But the words fell unspoken from his lips. The bench was empty. Her dice were scattered across the ground, but there was no sign of the goddess.
Worried, he rushed over. There were no signs of footprints in the dirt, no indication of a struggle.
She was simply not there.
Jasper bent down, looking at the dice scattered across the ground. He had never really gotten a close look at them before, as Kas̆dael was never parted from them. The black dice must have had twenty or more sides on them, and as he loomed over them, he realized there were small, almost invisible, symbols on each side.
On each of the seven die, the same symbol faced up. It was a relatively simple shape, two tall vertical lines were connected by another which ran from the bottom of the first to the top of the second. The third line was curved, almost like an extremely stylized “s” and was bisected in the middle by a fourth, much shorter, line, also at an angle. The symbol meant nothing to Jasper and, curious to see the other symbols, he picked up the die.
It was a few seconds before he realized the sound echoing in his ears was his own screams. A torrent of energy surged up his arm, exploding into his body as he thrashed on the ground. His fingers cramped around the die, his muscles stubbornly refusing to obey his commands and let it go. Finally, his hand smashed against a rock, jarring it just enough that the die slipped out of his grasp, rolling across the ground.
He woke up sometime later. His throat felt hoarse and raw, like he’d been gargling sandpaper and topped it off with a cigarette and whisky, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing in his arm. The pain was radiating from a large, black scorch mark in the center of his palm. Reflexively, he reached for his bag, looking for a healing potion, only to remember that his bag didn't come with him to the void. Damn it. He stared at the blackened wound, pain racing up and down his arm. Some perverse instinct urged him to touch it, but he resisted, afraid of how much pain it might bring.
The small camp was still empty. The fire had died down further, the cold, dark void creeping ever closer. Stumbling to his feet, he saw the die he had picked up had rolled back towards the rest. But something had changed. A new symbol faced up, an eight-armed star bound by a circle.
Clutching his arm closely to his side, Jasper staggered back to Kas̆dael’s bench, looking for any sign of her. The ground was still bare of prints, but without her, he had no idea how to return back to his body. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to search the surrounding area, slowly spreading out in a spiral pattern away from the fire.
The cold was indescribable. After months of fending off the elements with the fire inside, Jasper had forgotten what true cold really felt like.
The void reminded him.
It invaded every cell of his body, clamping down the fire within until it was little more than a spark. He staggered out into the plains, his limbs moving stiffly like a mannequin. “Kas̆dael! Kas̆dael!”
The words tore at his throat, the sound quickly dissipating into the darkness. But though he could find no signs of her, something more guided his steps. He trudged further and further into the void, until the last light of the fire was swallowed up, driven forward by an unexplainable certainty of where he needed to go.
The void, he gradually realized, was not just empty land. Gentle hills rolled up and down, the ground now barren of any cover. But the further he walked, the more the hills were covered in tall, spindly shafts. It was tough to see in the darkness, but he would have thought they were dead trees, if not for their rock-hard exterior. Here and there, dry channels twisted and turned through the land, where, perhaps once, rivers had flowed. His arm continued to throb, the scorched mark on his palm burning with so much pain that he barely noticed the endless cold.
Cresting the top of a hill, he came to a halt as an unexpected sight met his eyes. There at the base of the hill was a road. He charged down the hill, stumbling as a clod of dirt gave way beneath his feet. Rolling down the hill in a shower of dust, he sprawled out across the road. With a groan, he gingerly pushed himself up, cradling his arm. The road was constructed on a colossal scale, made of monolithic stones set into the dirt. Each one of the stones must have been at least fifty feet in length and almost as wide, somehow carved from a single block.
The impulse which had guided him thus far led him down the road. As he wandered along the path, the dirt hills and stone trees slowly gave way to flat plains and then to buildings. More and more sprung up around the road, their construction matching its monumental scale.
His thoughts flowed slowly, numbed by the cold and pain, but eventually, his dulled brain reached the obvious conclusion: he had wandered into a city. There were no great walls to bar his way - the only city he had encountered in this world without walls - nor were there any signs of life. An eerie and endless silence prevailed over all, broken only by the steady beat of his steps against the stone.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
The buildings, though abandoned, looked almost untouched by the ravages of time. No dust covered the road, and no walls or roofs had fallen down. It was as if the city’s inhabitants had merely stepped away, and would return any second to find him snooping through their homes.
The road emptied out into a large pavilion, once no doubt a bustling market. The center of the pavilion was hollowed out, clearly once a lake, and multiple deep channels split off from it, heading out into the rest of the city, ornate bridges arching over the gulleys.
He wandered over one of the bridges, stopping for a moment to admire the ornate craftsmanship. Two tall pillars descended into the channels, sculpted into a grotesque statue. Humanoid but not quite human, the face leered back at him with a wide and toothy grin, a long tongue lolling out of its mouth. The eye sockets, perhaps once filled with gems, were empty, the first thing he had seen in the city that appeared damaged.
Suppressing a shudder, he passed over the bridge. Reaching the far side, Jasper found the road continued further into the city, suddenly sloping upward at a steep angle. He dragged himself onwards, driven by the almost unconscious compulsion, the inexplicable knowledge that somewhere in this city he would find Kas̆dael.
The change was subtle at first, barely noticeable, but as he ascended higher up the hill, the temperature gradually rose, the darkness of the void slowly lifting, revealing more and more of his surroundings. His thoughts cleared as the cold began to fade away, releasing him from his almost-fugue statue.
Confused, Jasper stopped and surveyed his surroundings. What the hell is this place? Did people use to live here?
In the end, Jasper was forced to continue his trek. He had no idea how to return to Kas̆dael's bonfire, only the pressure on his chest that urged him onwards, like a dog following the scent of a juicy bone.
The hill seemed that it would never end, relentlessly sloping upwards until even his super-human calves burned with pain. But when he finally reached the top, his breath was taken away.
The largest temple - no, the largest building - he had ever seen rose before him. A ring of domes, each one more than enough to dwarf the Hagia Sophia, surrounded an impossibly high central tower. The only thing he had ever seen like it was the Tower of Ysagil in Als̆arratu, but in comparison, it felt like a pale, cheap imitation of the temple that stood before him.
But the temple was not directly before him. It was built on another hill, connected to the one on which he stood by a thin, narrow bridge. Unlike the others back in the city, the bridge was made of nothing more than rope and planks, swaying slightly back and forth on an almost imperceptible breeze.
Despite its rickety appearance, Jasper felt driven to cross it, as the certainty that what he sought was in the temple blazed within him with the force of the sun. As he drew near, he saw that bridge was flanked on each side by a statue of a dog with four eyes and a mouth full of bared teeth. A presence lurked within them, an almost unbearable presence that made him want to flee, but the compulsion would not let him.
Trembling he set foot on the bridge. It swayed beneath his feet, and he found his eyes drawn to the chasm below. The cliffs plunged into the darkness, no sign of a bottom to be seen, although there was a faint murmur echoing below that suggested that somewhere down there a river still ran.
Squaring his shoulders, he willed himself forward. With every step, the bridge swayed dangerously, but he pressed on.
“Jasper?” A voice he hadn’t heard in months broke the silence. Layla?
“Jasper, where are you going? Come over here.” He turned slowly to face the voice, the world around him changing as he saw her. He was standing in a restaurant back home. Layla sat at the bar, a drink in her hand. It was her favorite, a strawberry hennessy. She fished one of the strawberry slices out of the drink, licking it slowly, deliberately, her eyes fixed on him.
The lights on the bar flashed merrily - reds, greens, and whites - as the music drifted past his ears, he recognized it immediately. Auld Lang Syne. This was the place they’d had their first date. He started to take a step forward, ready to join his girlfriend at the bar, but before he could move, an unimaginable cold erupted on his wrist. Yelping in pain, he looked down.
“Jasper, come here, now.” Layla’s tone was sharp, her exasperation barely hid as he fumbled with his wrist. There’s nothing here - why does it hurt?
And then his fingers touched on something and the vision around him flickered.
“Jasper!”
Jasper stared at the bracelet on his wrist, his mind clearing as he touched the charm the Fey woman had given him. The cold returned with a vengeance, and he stumbled back as he found himself staring directly down into the endless void of the chasm. Glancing around, bewildered, he finally remembered where he was. What the hell was that?
A shudder ran down his spine as the realization hit him. If I had taken a step forward, I would have fallen into the abyss. Gulping, he weighed his options. The thought of continuing down the bridge terrified him, but the intense knowing that Kas̆dael waited on the other side burned within him, urging him on relentlessly. Shakily, he took a step forward, unable to turn back.
The bridge swayed his feet ominously, the planks creaking with every step he took.
“Jasper?”
He flinched as the voice hit him, the world around him dissolving before he had time to prepare his defenses.
“Mom?” She was sitting on their couch, a startled look on her face.
“Jasper, are you okay?” Standing up, she ran over to him, wrapping him in a tight hug. “You’ve been gone for months - we thought you were dead.” She held him tight, crying into his shoulder. “Where have you been?”
He stood stiffly, awkwardly patting her on the back. His mind was clearer than before, the band on his wrist radiating cold up and down his arm. Gently, he pushed her away.
She looked up, hurt and confused. “Jasper, what’s wrong? Why are you pushing me away?” She grabbed his hand. “Come, sit down with me on the couch.”
He shook his head. This isn’t real. “I’m sorry, mom - I can’t. I’ve gotta go.”
He took a step forward, trusting where he knew the bridge to be.
“Jasper?” Her voice broke. “Where are you going?”
Steeling his heart, he stepped forward, the vision finally shattering as he trudged further down the bridge. The visions bombarded him constantly - friends, family, even long-forgotten acquaintances rose to greet him. He steadfastly ignored them all, shrugging off his best friend’s pleas, closing his ears to his long-dead grandmother’s greetings, easily dismissing his childhood rival’s taunts.
The end of the bridge loomed in front of him. Just a few more steps, he promised himself.
“Jasper?” He froze as the voice hit his ears, his heart aching within him. Slowly, tentatively, he turned, suddenly more terrified that he wouldn’t see her standing there than that he would.
The void disappeared as found himself back in his childhood room. The last rays of sunset streaming through the windows, leaving purple stains along the pale blue walls. She was there, leaning against the door, a smirk on her face. A pair of car keys jingle in her hands. “Are you coming or what? Everybody’s waiting on us.”
He choked back the tears that sprang into his eyes. “Jenny?”