Chapter 56: Ghost Town

Echoing like water in a cave, the words of the Voice stayed with her.

“Almost there. The map says it-it’s not too far. Just a little bit more. A little bit more.” Vega’s voice sounded tired, as if she had walked a desert of a thousand miles and was nearing her destination. Not sounding joyful, but simply relieved.

The buildings, if you could even call them that, descended into greater disrepair. While they were of the average size of the apartments previous, their skeletal and boney nature make them seem taller, more formidable. In this place, the people had shifted from standoffish gangsters to folk whose eyes were always to their feet.Their hair unkempt and tied in loose bands, with their trousers and shirts held up straw rope, Vega immediately understood that they were Tripolian. Tiny scars around their eyes, they keep always away from anyone that approached.

Not even the scarecrow could draw their eyes.

“...I wonder what she’ll be like. Oh, what am I saying? She’ll be like me.” Vega tried to summon an inkling, a droplet of her previous energy. Anything that could make this something fun instead of a chore of which you could talk to no friends with.

I mean there was Kaliba, but, come on.

“Hmm… wait.” Vega realized upon hopping on a sidewalk, she felt a jingle in her backpack. She remembered packing her map, gold, pickaxe, badge and other trinkets, but that jingle sounded off.

“I guess I must have misplaced some-some stuff. Might need to-” Reaching on, Vega had felt six strings. Six strings of her guitar bristled at her touch. For some indiscernible reason, Vega couldn’t quite remember when she put it in there. In fact, when she thought about it, she remembered she hadn’t put it there at all.

“That’s weird-weird.” As she pulled it out, she grazed her hands on his dark appearance. She grazed his finger tips on the strings, imagining what Florato had been doing. Imagining what Skaldi was doing. Imagining how they were all taking care without her.

Wordlessly putting the guitar back into her backpack, Vega continued forward. Her mood relaxed a little, with the Voice’s words becoming less miserable to remember.

The closer and closer she moved to the direction of the tower, she heard the muffled talk of people, likely lounging and enjoying the cool morning before the day became hot. Despite the state of the place, people were living life as best they could, regardless of whether the ruling Oligarch aided them or not.

She wished she had that mundane strength, to persist without the aid of others. She could feel it, that there wouldn’t be a sudden showing of Skaldi or Amir to save her or any great monster to aid her. Certainly no Oligarch would.

Vega was on her own.

“Still-still. It’s not like I’ll need help finding the tower!”

Vega turned the corner and where the tower had been marked on the map, there was jack shit.

“Well fuck.”

“Fuck-fuck.”

“I agree with Kaliba. Fuck-fuck indeed. Where the hell is it?!” Vega ran up to what seemed to be district square. Here the buildings were the most maintained, as there were shops and artisans nearby and the people here seemed a bit more self confident.

Analyzing toward the ground, Vega had discovered an interesting thing. There were faint etching on the ground, like when one marks a stone with a stick. It was hard to see, sure, but it was far better than the Jantok Sky one. Not disappearing, but it had physical scars in the ground.

“Aww… it’s either I ask someone what happened, or… I ask someone what happened. Not really a tough-tough choice-choice.], huh?”

Starting by going to the nearest shop, Vega pushed through the door hearing the metallic jingle of a bell.

“One minute!” A hoarse, strong man's voice shouted. With his strong Tripolian accent, Vega imagined a comically oversized man for the store. Closet sized, baskets of various scrolls and books, all written in a manner of different languages. Most were clean and unchanged, as if they had been created that very day. The same could not be said for the walls, which had various layers of paint flaking off.

“Maybe this-this guy would know something. Seems like he’s been here long enough.” Vega curiously reached into one of the baskets, picking out one of the few Iozian books.

“Hello hello, welcome to the Translation House! Anything written, anything read.” A wide man in fading blue robes raised his hands high up at Vega, having jumped down the stairs leading to his desk. Picking up a pair of cracked spectacles, he placed them on his nose that was next to his huge gray mustache. “What would you- you’re not what I was expecting.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. Anyway, ya wouldn’t happen to know about the tower outside, would ya? Tell me quick.” Vega spoke quickly, irritated that she was singled out again.

“Uh, tower? Aye, I see! You mean old Kaliber’s tower? Aye.”

“What-what happened to it?”

“Curious, are you seeking Kaliber? That lady had been gone for a bit, same with the tower.” The man kept addressing Vega with his palm, as one would while pointing. This, in conjunction with his establishment, made Vega feel a bit ashamed of how she treated him as a result. He was honest, not trying to give her a hard time. Maybe don’t give him one, she thought.

“Right. Was it like the one in the Gambler district, no one could get into it?”

“I wouldn’t know. Just wasn’t there anymore. Tell me, scarecrow, what is it that you seek? There is nothing here in Ghost town. Don’t tell me, are you a grave robber?” The shopkeeper gave a hardy laugh, one that wasn’t warranted from his joke.

“No-no sir. I just… I don’t know really.” Vega sat down on a bench, one that didn’t match the aesthetic of the shop. “I guess… I guess I really want Kaliber. Is that how ya say it?”

“Want Kaliber? Ha! She was certainly a looker, that’s for sure. Aye, I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Heh, me neither. I-I just want to figure out who Kaliber is and if she can help me.”

“You place too much of your own fate on other people, I can tell that.” The shopkeeper stepped out from behind his desk and went to the baskets, carrying a clay blue pot. Gently brushing and lacquering them in a syrup-like liquid which looked like it would do nothing but harm the books.

“Are ya a mindreader mister? I could honestly use one. Well, one that isn’t an asshole.”

“What?” The shopkeeper raised his eyebrow at her, dripping some of the syrup on the floor.

“Nevermind… well… thanks for helping me.” Vega slapped her knees and stood up to exit.

“Hold on…” He put the pot on the bench, as he took a breath. “...do you really wish to know about Kaliber?”

“To be honest sir… I want to know about myself.” Speaking through her heart, Vega’s eyes and the rose on her hat sparkled for an instant, not a moment more. The shopkeeper gave a sigh, one that signaled that he felt her struggle before.

“Hmmm… don’t speak of this to the watch men. A temple, not far from here. It is in the style of Sanguian ghosts. A priest there… he too is seeking Kaliber. Maybe you can find luck with him.”

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“Mister, thanks. Thank you, so much.” Vega’s hope is restored ever so more, like dropping a little water in a thirsty plant. She bowed and rose her foot to leave. However, feeling a bit motivated to act kindly, she opened her mouth. “Hey mister, what book would ya recommend for me?”

Crooked and standing on a perch like a crow, the temple looked down the hill in an observation stance. This temple, unlike previous cathedrals and temples Vega had been at, sported a lack of life. Well, in the manner of where life is hard to find. This temple had no neighbors, only the husks of them if you could call them that.

The winds from the coast struggled to reach up the temple, be it from the force of the state or that the very wind could not bear to be in such a place.

“Guess this is-is my shot. What to say…” Vega hiked up the hill, taking ample time to look to the side of her. Not that she was suspecting a bandit ambush, but she was hoping to see someone, at least a group that associated themselves with the temple. But no, there would not be any one found.

A full iron gate with symbols of blind eyes and eagles lay half open, exposing a cobblestone walkway. As Vega moved to the temple, she saw the Sanguian columns blend into the Jantok roofing, with the points of the roof raising up towards the sky, like dragon wings.

Much like the outside, Vega pushed the entrance open to find only the remains of a temple. What religious idolatry and objects remained were simple and cheap, seeing as looters and bandits had stolen from this place long ago. High above were glowing white orbs, which made the temple hall have a dim light.

“Hello! I heard there was a-a priest here! Someone told me ya could help me out!” Vega spared no time, starting to run forward at a pace that was a bit too fast for herself, managing to trip twice. Checking left and right of this hall, there were no doors. All that she could see was ahead.

The temple gave no answer, only the soft hum of the orbs responded.

You really ought to stop.

“God damn it, it's this guy again.”

Ah, this girl. Of all my titles, I think that one’s my favorite!

“Whatever-hello! Can ya guys help me?” Vega continued to race about, pressing forward despite the lack of life. The vibrant orange paint on the walls was a dark brown in the dark, the shine of the idols were that of blades in light, and Vega’s footsteps echoed like she were in a cave and not in a place of celestial hearts and minds. Where the hopes of the mortal reach up to the sky, this was not it.

“Damn it. Hmm, how can I find them?”

Have you tried dying? It’s very trendy nowadays.

“Not listening.” Vega focused on a solution, continuing to run about the halls and rooms. The further she went, the more this place seemed in ruin. But not that type that invites sadness, but an odd beauty. Descending down a darkened stairway, Vega stare from out of the cracks of the walls vines and bizarre plant life that shuttered away when she came close.

Even the only living things here shifted away from the scarecrow which caused her additional frustration. Thinking that they’d lead to the priest, she followed these vines and plants in this corridor. When reaching the end of the staircase, she found the cellar where all the old manuscripts and prayer paper huddled in cold dust, with the plants oddly bonding next to the prayers, like a mother cuddling to their child.

Don’t you wish you could do that?

“Have-have anyone told ya you’re not funny?” Vega shook her head and tried to ignore the Voice. Tracing the walls with her fingers, she noticed that the vines and plants joined close next to religious symbols. These plants looked like crowns attached to the vines and were glossy white, but became a calm orange when near the symbols.

Instead of sunlight, it seemed these plants needed the symbols to live, and desperately needed them so. Vega admired them, that even in this dark they found life. They found what they were looking for.

Oh, the scarecrow compares herself to dull plants. How touching.

This mental battery plagued her still, for it reminded her that she had yet to discover the priest or how to get into Kaliber’s tower. The words cracked in her head like thunder, first blinding her directions and shattering her focus. Taking a few steps to recover, she pushed on and continued to follow the vines.

The next rooms were all the same, not in form but in result. All had a great loneliness, from incense holders stacked with ash, to pews and rag like rugs having no one praying and worshiping. The very statues of Recor and other spirits failed to survive as well. If Vega wasn’t such a devout person, she wouldn’t have recognized their forms.

Scared that will happen to you? To your friends?

She searched. She searched and searched but to no avail. At the end of the vines she found herself back where she had started, back at the entrance.

The scarecrow fell to her knees, feeling a buildup of intolerable emotion. She struggled to hold herself together.

“No… I’m so close. So close.”

You know… you could probably head back to your friends.

“Shut up…”

Think about it. You know this won’t end well. Finding out who you are isn’t going to fix anything. You cannot change what you are. We are all built with a purpose. You have failed.

Accept it.

Standing back up she held a solemn face. She did not cry. Instead, she reached out to her back, and pulled out the guitar. Plucking one string, she tested her might.

Now was the time to do something right.

“Saw you in a dream… are you who you seem?” Vega sang, playing a soft and heartfull melody on the guitar. The rose on Vega’s hat glowed brightly and its thorns receded slightly.

“Was it always in the cards for me to be aimless? No direction?” Her eyes closed, she moved forward with her voice rising. From out the guitar came an electric sound, that of thunder taken musical form.

“Nothing pulling me down from the sky, it seems like always get too high!” Reaching a elegant high note, her fingers danced on the strings, filling the empty temple with a great rhythm. Rhythm coming from the scarecrow.

“Ohhhhhh, the air is cold, I don’t how breathe.” Stopping her playing, the temple was held by the voice. The voice of Vega.

“I’m begging, can you… Guide. My. Way. Out. Of this place?”

“Certainly.”

“What-what?” Vega opened eyes and turned around, hearing an unexpected person behind her.

“Apologies, but you are the one, that asked, yes?” Wearing orange robes, bound round his body. A ghost monk, for where his nose and upper lip should have been, there was only burned off husks. Matigas Natao accent and form, but his eyes a boiling white.

“Uhhh… yeah? Sorry if I-I might have disturbed ya sir-sir.” Vega quickly went to her knees and kowtowed several times to the monk.

“Haha! No worries little one, in fact, we haven’t had visitors in a bit. Well, ever since Kaliber. Which reminds me, you have come here for a reason, yes?” Soon as the monk finished, Vega gingerly put the guitar back and walked up to him. Looking at the ground and struggling to put the right words in place, she clasped her hands together.

“Can… can ya please tell me where Kaliber’s tower is?”

“Ah, yes. It's to your left.”

“...what?”

“Left. To your left.” The monk turned his head and pointed with his thumb. Vega looked and he was right. Where there wasn’t a door, now there was!

“...Ya fucking kidding me right?”

“Language.”

“Sorry, but what? I searched and searched and-”

“You have, already searched.” The monk held a palm to Vega’s mouth. “You have been searching for a long time, haven’t you? You have already found it, but one needs to realize it.”

“I… don’t understand.”

“There is a lot we don’t understand about ourselves.” The monk rubbed his scared face, feeling the marks and warped muscle. “And certainly, what we can be. We need others to survive.” His white eyes fell onto the strange plant life. Sitting beside them, he pulled out a pot and dipped his hand into it. Using a similar lacquer the shopkeep had, he painted more symbols beside, and the plants grew and glowed.

“Huh. But we also need to grow… right?” Vega smiled as she took off her hat and stared at the rose.

She didn’t quite understand the purpose or the rose, or how it came to be. But it was there, and it was beautiful. Putting the hat back on, she walked to the side of the monk, mental preparing for the door to Kaliber to be opened.

“Could I sit here a bit-bit?

“Sure. I wouldn’t mind it.”