Waking up in complete darkness was terrifying. It wasn’t darkness like if it was the middle of the night and I had just snapped awake from a dream. This was utter blackness, to the point that I wondered if I was blind. Flailing around wildly, my hands fumbled through a coarse ash like substance on the ground where I knelt. It was at least a foot deep, and made the cuts on my hands twinge. A single solitary light, high above me, almost invisible by the distance, was the only reason I knew I could still see. The ash sifted around my fingers like powder but felt wrong—gritty, almost alive, as if something crawled within it. My cuts burned with a stinging that made my stomach twist. The air was thick, cloying, filling my lungs with a damp chill that smelled of mildew and something metallic, like blood left to dry. Slowly my eyes began to adjust to the dark, I was standing in the middle of some sort of pit. Looking straight up, I felt unstable, searching for a sky and finding only and endless blackness. Doing this, however, made me aware of small flakes of ash that were falling, landing gently on my face. I brushed them off, feeling the flakes smear into my cheeks, now aware of the half dried tears that now mixed the ash into a film.
I have to get moving. I commanded myself, I have to get out of here! Whatever that hand wanted, it could not be anything good. Whether it intended to drop him here, or something went wrong, I did not want to be around when it came back. With determination, I trudged forward up the hill, the beacon of light my target. Uneven footing mixed with the heaviness of the ash made the climb exhausting. It was like trying to climb the sand dunes at the beach my parents took us to once every now and then. Each step up sunk into the ash and seemed to latch onto my shins like it was fighting back. The more I climbed, the further away the light seemed to get. Finally at the top of the hill I stopped, keeling over and panting heavily, my lungs screaming with the exertion. Far off to the right of me the light still flickered, still at the distance it was at when I started my climb. Looking down at my feet as I hunched over, I could see the ground at the top of the hill was flat and solid, like concrete. It had a thin film of ash coating the surface, but I was no longer knee deep in the soot. The silence was what made this place the most uneasy for me. There was no wind, no breeze, no chattering of animals or humming of engines. Complete silence, save for the noises I made. Closing my eyes, I tried to breath calmly, and just listen.
At first the only thing I could hear was the rapid pounding of my heart and my own breathing. Yet something far behind me was slowly growing louder. It was a rhythmic scratching, a familiar sound of bristles on a hard surface. I opened my eyes and turned towards the direction of the sound. Out of the darkness a figure, hunched over with a broom in his hands. With a steady stride they scraped the ash off to the sides, creating a path in their wake. They were short and clad in a trench coat that might have been brown at one point but was blackened in spots with fresh and old soot. This had scratched away most of the brown to make the coat a weathered tan where the ash did not cover. I couldn’t see their face, as their mouth and nose were covered by a black bandana. They also wore a pair of round googles over their eyes, giving the person quite the steampunk getup that would make quite the scene at a convention. “Hello?” My voice carried in the silent air. The sweeper flinched at my greeting, his wide broom lifting up in a defensive stance. I held my palms face up, “Whoa whoa, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m just lost, and I don’t know where I am.”
“You don’t belong here, child of Eythri.” The sweeper’s voice was muffled by the bandana over his face, but it was dry and coarse, like sandpaper on gravel. He slowly lowered the broom, swiping ash away from his feet. Eythri. The word was definitely not one I knew, but strangely felt familiar.
“Eythri? What is Eythri?” I asked, lowering my hands. “And I know I don’t belong here, something pulled me here.” Relief flooded me that the man even spoke English, though that in of itself was jarring. “And you speak English?”
The sweeper muttered something under his breath, shifting uncomfortably. “I can try to answer your questions, Child of Eythri. But you must walk with me. Tis not safe to idle still in these lands for long. There are things that thrive in this darkness, and I must keep the road.” He returned to his rhythmic sweeping, moving past me. I fell into step behind him, matching his pace as he swept ash from side to side.
“What is Eythri?” I asked, the word still itching the back of my brain with how familiar it felt.
“Eythri is your world, the land of sol and morn. The realm that was stripped of the ancient words and built sanctuary in its mundanity.” The sweeper sighed; his words weary. “This…” He motioned with a heavy sweep, causing ash to fly into the air. “This is Caligost. The place between. The shadows betwixed days. The land of almosts and neverweres. Here is where things that are lost between realms end up.” The sweeper shifted his neck, an audible pop could be heard as he cracked his neck. The sweeper gave a short, dry chuckle. “English, is it?” He glanced back, his eyes glinting under the goggles. “Let’s just say the land of Caligost has its ways of not wasting things abandoned. The ancient words here adapt to those who pass through.”
“Adapt?” I asked, frowning.
“The ancient energy that flows all around allow us to understand each other… somewhat,” he added, shrugging. “The words are shaped by your mind and mine, bending until we can make sense of them. While you may think you are speaking this English, you are in fact speaking the common tongue to me. This energy was cut off from Erythil many lifetimes ago, so it is understandable if you do not grasp its influence.”
His words bounced around in my mind, but before I could ask more, my mind wandered back to the eye, the being that forced me through the mirror, “So whatever was pulling me, didn’t bring me all the way through?” Remembering the feeling of cold steel around my arm sent another shiver up my spine. The sweeper didn’t respond, continuing to shift ash from side to side. We moved in silence for a while, the sound of the broom brushing rhythmically through the ash filling the quiet. Finally, I spoke up. “If I don’t belong here, how do I get back?”
“Back? No, forward.” The sweeper replied. “One must finish the path between before beginning a new journey.” His answer confused the heck out of me.
“Finish the path? What do you mean? Why can’t I just go home from here?” The barrage of questions was met with one hand up, stopping us both. The sweeper turned around to face me. With a slow pull at his bandana, the cloth came down to reveal the bottom half of his face. His skin was pale, almost translucent. It was hard to see his mouth as it was covered in a greyish white beard, matted and thick.
“People do not just travel between realms on a whim, Child of Eythri. That is not the way of things. There are…forces that ensure these places are kept apart. Your trespass here will not have been unnoticed.” The sweeper raised his goggles, his full face now visible. His eyes were red but lacked the silver flakes of the being that haunted me for the past day. The heavy bags under his eyes showed a weariness that did not match his age. The seriousness of his expression reinforced the dire warnings he was giving. “There are two doorways into Caligost, both guarded to keep wanderers like yourself from passing through.” He knelt down as he spoke, drawing in the ash between us. Two large squares and a squiggly line between them. “You did not pass through the door from Eythri, that much is certain. The Adkorast would have slain you the moment you arrived.”
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“The Adkorast?” The name was intimidating enough without the details. The sweeper sighed heavily, clearly annoyed by my lack of knowledge.
“Winged devils with armor as thick as a mountain, and weapons so sharp, they could cut the words from your lips. The guardians of the gates have been there as long as I can remember, and they follow their duty to the letter.” The sweeper shook his head. “No, whatever brought you here, did so through means not known by me.” The sweeper rose slowly, his shadow stretching out, long and ghostly, across the dim ash path. His eyes, still red but duller than the piercing ones I’d seen in the mirror, held me in place.
“So, what does that mean for me?” I asked, shifting uneasily, watching as he wiped his hand across the strange diagram he’d drawn.
“I know of another way into Sylvix.” The sweeper coughed, pulling the bandana back over his face. The falling ash had picked up in intensity, causing me to also pull my shirt just to breathe.
“Sylvix? What is that? Is that where I was being pulled to?” I asked, coughing as well.
The sweeper nodded. “The land there still flows with the ancient words, if anyone can help you return to Eythri, they will be found in Sylvix. Either way. You cannot remain here in Caligost much longer. She does not part with those who wander here willingly.” The sweeper’s pace quickened, clearing the path with a speed that now made me worry.
“What else is here in Caligost that I should be afraid of?” I asked bluntly. The sweeper didn’t answer, instead his head snapped to the right, looking down the hill. My eyes followed his line of sight until I could see what had gotten his attention. The sea of ash and dust that covered the land below us rippled with movement. I had a feeling this is what the sweeper had meant by me not being here unnoticed.
“Run! Child of Eythri!” The sweeper suddenly boomed with panic, causing me to leap with the sound alone. The two of us surged forward, the sweeper no longer worried about his task. The adrenaline kicked in, danger screaming in my brain. I followed the sweeper in full sprint, eyeing the movement below us that was following alongside. As we ran, the ash on the road began to increase in level. Each step got harder, having to lift my feet up from the ash that seemed to want to entrap me. I glimpsed down to the sea of ash, just in time to see something dark and long fly out of the shifting waves of soot. It was flying directly towards me as the sweeper stopped and swung his broom. The head of the broom slammed downward onto the flying missile, making a resounding crack as the thing landed limply at my feet. I was able to see the monstrosity in all its horror, and the sight sent a lightning bolt of fear through my gut. At first it looked like an eel, long and slimy. Its skin was pitch black, glistening like oil. The face was what terrified me. The end of the creature was ashen white like the substance it swam in, but the shape was skeletal and bone-like. It had no eye sockets, instead there were oval holes along both sides of the skull, which was long, almost like a horse. Its mouth was open wide, revealing row upon row of serrated teeth.
“What is that thing?” I asked disgust mixed with fear. The sweeper shook his head, “No time, more will come, you must leave Caligost or they will never stop hunting your essence.” He pointed down the road. The light that had guided me to the top of the hill and onto the road flickered, much closer than it had ever been. “That light is the door to Sylvix, what we are looking for is more of a window. Come.” I followed the sweeper for several more minutes down the road until he pivoted down the hill and into the sea of ash, now chest high to him and high enough to bury me. He turned around and held out the broom and I could see what he was planning. With no other option, I followed, grabbing the broom as he pulled me through the ash. I squeezed my eyes shut, hiding my face in my shirt to avoid the ash and soot from filling my nose. After what seemed like an eternity, the sweeper stopped. “You can stand now.”
I brushed the last of the ash from my arms, scanning our surroundings. We’d crossed the sea of ash to the opposite bank, where a steep, shadowed slope loomed in front of us. The sweeper crouched near a section of the bank, his gloved hand brushing away layers of ash that had settled over a jagged crack in the slope. I watched as he continued to clear it away, slowly revealing a narrow opening hidden beneath the grime. From a distance, it looked like just another part of the uneven embankment, but up close, I could see a faint shimmer around the edges—a glow so subtle it almost blended in with the dark.
“This is it,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Few know of it, and even fewer make it through. The window will lead you forward, but only if you’re certain.” I walked over the sweeper, peering into the crack.
The opening was barely wide enough to crawl through. Even knowing what I was looking at, it took effort to see where the entrance actually began. Inside, the glow grew stronger, casting eerie shadows along the cramped space. I glanced back toward the valley of ash, where a short distance away, faint ripples began to churn.
“Go on,” the sweeper urged, his tone a strange mix of impatience and caution. “Once you’re inside, keep low but don’t stop.
I swallowed hard, taking a shaky breath as I knelt and peered into the opening. The cold stone pressed close on all sides, almost claustrophobic. The faint light called me forward, a promise of escape—but I couldn’t tell if it would lead to freedom or something worse. I turned back to the sweeper, “Why are you helping me? You could’ve just kept going and ignored me.”
The sweeper paused, his gloved fingers tightening around the broom’s handle. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer, but finally, he gave a short, dry chuckle. “I don’t believe our meeting here was chance, Child of Eythri.” He raised his goggles so I could see his eyes again. “My duty here is one of punishment, I was banished from Sylvix eons ago.” He chuckled again, “I don’t deny it was not deserved, but should you meet my brother Kail on your journey home, can you do this old man a favor and let him know I miss him terribly?”
Giving a half smile, I nodded weakly. “Of course I will, though I don’t know your name, sir?” The sweeper smiled back, “Jasper is the name, Sweeper of the Great Road, guide to wayward travelers.” He gave a playful bow. “Now go. More of those cretins will arrive soon, and you must not be here when they do.” Jasper ushered me forward into the hillside.
The walls closed in around me immediately as I entered, a dark and musty passage of rock and earth. My fingers scrambled for purchase on the cold stone as I dragged myself forward, feeling the strange pull of the light ahead. With each inch, the echoing silence of Caligost faded behind me, replaced by an eerie, unfamiliar hum that seemed to come from somewhere deep within. I tried not to think about it, but the tight space began to make breathing harder and harder. Before the passage could become too claustrophobic to even move, it gave way to a small cavern. Tall enough for me to stand in, the stones on the ceiling hanging down, glistening with some glowing moisture. In the center of the cavern was a pool of water, still and unmoving despite small tributaries leading to it from the rocks surrounding it. I walked over to it, gazing into the pool. The water was swirling in a counterclockwise motion, pulled by some unseen force. Its contents were murky, yet the humming began to grow louder the closer I got. Well…either I am getting a bath or Sylvix here I come…with a humorous thought that I would rather teleport than get a bath, I leaped into the water.