(edited by Yalora Istairiea.6287)
[FanFic]Forsaken Soul: A Path Familiar
Chapter 22 – Ever Falling
Falling, I am falling. Not some unrestrained plummet from a miss-stepped precipice overlooking a bottomless abyss; but a controlled glideslope, as a diving raptor sighted on its prey. Crisp, the night air futilely attempts to penetrate my emblazoned leather armor to no avail. Glancing to the side, I am thrilled to see that I have wings! Rigging, crossbars and stabilizing cables all supporting a skeletal structure covered by stretched taught sail. Shifting my weight, I trim my descent, leveling some 20 meters above the jungle canopy. The ocean of green leafy sheen brought to near luminescence by the pale silver moonlight, brings a whole new meaning to surreal. The view is spectacular and would be quite peaceful, had it not been for the fact that I am inevitably going to crash.
Gone are any ridge drafts or thermals, I am going in and I am going to whack hard. Desperately scanning the verdant tangle below for any sort of reprieve, my hopes bleed away quicker than my altitude does. There is just no place to safely land. In a last, desperate attempt, I angle toward a thin, black serpentine line which is surely too far away. Maybe if the river is deep enough, it might break my fall sufficiently enough to survive. But alas the Lady of Luck and I seem to not currently be on speaking terms, and into the jungle ceiling I plunge.
Chapter 23 – Tyria Firma
Consciousness unclouds to the hot breath of Midnight, licking my face.
“Hey girl”, I mumble in a wavering tone.
It seems I have returned from my ethereal jaunt. I run my hand across the back of my skull revealing a lump the size of an egg a goose would be proud of explains the bass drum beat. I pull my hand away and thankfully there is no blood, but a knock to the noggin is never a good thing; might clarify why I have no idea who I am or what I am doing in the middle of the jungle. The odd thing is when I fainted, I recall falling forward. Why I have a lump on the back of my head will require further pondering. Just then, the thought of a tower bell comes to mind. A fractured memory, as if a muted peal rings forth from a distant source and is then rendered silent.
I scan my surroundings. With the exception of Midnight gnawing at the back of her paw, there is nothing else of particular value in my foliage-confined space. I take a quick overview of my assets or lack of such. Well, no armor is somewhat disheartening, but Cobalt strapped to my back gives quite a bit of comfort. A small utility sheath-knife on my belt and strangely enough, a few walnut-sized stones in my pocket flesh out the extent of my belongings. For all I know, these are the entirety of my worldly possessions.
As it is too dark to safely navigate, I draw Cobalt. Its ghostly blue light yields two new items to consider. One is the evidence that someone has been here before me; and second, they left through a well-worn animal path. A recent rain has reduced the prints to a mere trampling, but clearly it is more than just the beastly sort. Utilizing my glowing, makeshift machete, we set off down the path. Hacking my way through the undergrowth allows me to somewhat keep up with Midnight in the lead.
Our path quickly leads us to a downed tree leaning up against a rocky outcrop about thirty feet high. A brief climb and a few jumps put us at the crest of the bluff. With a bit of exploring, I find a rocky leeward shelf which would offer some shelter if needed. As if on cue, it starts to rain. Midnight and I scramble into our makeshift hovel. It is a bit cramped for the both of us, but it succeeds in keeping us dry as the sky opens and unleashes its torrential assault. I am able to sufficiently drink from a steady stream of rainwater which is flowing from the edge of the shelter roof to stave off any threat of dehydration, for the next few days at least. Though I am not currently hungry, pangs will surely be a concern within the week. Sheathing Cobalt, we settle in for the night.
Chapter 24 – Morning Dawn
I wake in the early morn. The lingering mist from yesterday’s rainstorm rendered everything in various shades of grey. Midnight being an earlier riser, must have done a bit of exploring for I am greeted with the present of a sizeable fish on the floor of last night’s shelter. Just as I start cleaning the fish with my utility knife, Midnight ambles in. As a rule she would have already eaten but I offer her a piece out of respect. She sniffs and declines; all the more for me.
After I finish breakfast, I call Midnight over. I have always found common tongue somewhat difficult to verbalize so my training of her is entirely in my native-speak. We engage in a bit of rough-and-tumble for a while, which as usual ends with her maw playfully at my throat professing all too well who the winner is. I yield to her triumph, so she rolls over and submits to the customary ‘belly rubbing of the victor’.
The mist starts to burn off, leaving us with just a hot and muggy day. Once down on the forest floor I am able to see a clear path of Midnight leaving and returning this morning in the wet soil. We sojourn down that trail toward the expected water source. Though an asura might not have an issue with these cramped animal runs, I certainly do. Thankfully, Cobalt makes it much less of a problem than trying to negotiate on hands and knees. After only about 15 minutes or so I hear the sound of running water. Pushing on a bit further, the path opens to a stream bank.
As I step down to one of the nearest backwater pools, I can see it is teaming with fish. The upstream path looks somewhat less hospitable than the downward one. Plus, I would expect there to be a better chance for finding some civilization following the downstream route. I pause and reflect. How could I possibly know that? Without an answer I shake my head, shrug my shoulders, and move on. We pause at the river for a drink and a bit of cooling before we are off to continue our adventure.
In midafternoon, we happen across a spot where the stream used to cut into the rocky side of the ridge, forming something of an open-top gorge. It should offer us some shelter from the heat and a likely defendable position. We cross the river and enter the ravine’s mouth.
The first thing that jumps out at me is that we may not be alone. Leaning against the wall a few feet in is a crudely made spear. Not one crafted by some skilled artificer, but a makeshift pointed stick whittled by someone desperate for some added protection. The next item of note was a recessed nook with a recent campfire, cold, but only by a day or so. Haphazardly stacked aside the fire is a miscellaneous pile of both tinder and kindling. Now, these were all things I would expect to find at an abandoned campsite, but the thing I did not expect was an unadorned, oiled leather backpack.
The sheltered, dry gorge bed goes in about 20 feet before dropping off into a small, long dead waterfall. The tracks lead all around the area, but the most recent ones are at the side of the falls to an area that would allow a few jumps’ access to the bottom. As sunset is about upon me, I decide to hold off any further exploring in that direction till tomorrow’s light. I go back to the front of the shelter and take a seat, waiting to see if my unknown campmate returns. Wasting no time, Midnight starts fishing for dinner. Not too long thereafter, we eat. Though I would love to see what is in that pack, decorum dictates I at least wait till tomorrow before I go rummaging. Time passes with no sign of anyone’s return, so after a bit, we turn in for the night.
Chapter 25 – Salvaged Goods
I wake from an uneventful sleep, fully rested. No guests graced us with a visit over the night. Midnight is gone but I do hear her splashing about by the river. She soon returns with a fishy breakfast. After finishing and a trip to the stream for a bit of grunge and stink removal, my eyes come to rest on the backpack. With one final, unsuccessful scan for its owner, I sit by the pack and undo its belted closure. Inside I find various items one would expect in a travelers backpack and one item that they wouldn’t. Some rations, a coil of rope, tinderbox and some spare clothes, all fall into the expected category, but the journal entitled Abridged: The Seer’s Scrolls Vol. 327 by Scholar Rolla certainly did not. Maybe this will give me some enlightenment as to what happened to its previous owner; at least that’s what I tell myself, should I be caught red handed poking around their backpack.
I start reading a few pages of Rolla’s scripting, and it comes off to me as a somewhat touched person’s prognostication. I read through the first three passages and I get the distinct impression that I had read or at least heard this before. An eerie feeling of déjà vu sends a quick chill up my spine. It seems odd, as this prophetic yammering is not something you would likely soon forget. It was clearly written by an asura, but judging by the apparent fit of the backpack, the writer and pack owner were obviously two different people. I set the book down, then stand, stretch, and walk down for a drink.
At the water’s edge, I survey the area. Midnight is nowhere to be seen. We can either continue following the rivers course or follow in the backpack owner’s footsteps over the old falls and down the gorge. At least the gorge path offers the possibility of meeting the backpack’s owner and seeing if they can help me out or vice versa. I go back to camp and pick up the book once again, but this time as I start reading, I notice something has changed.
x21.0041 – .0063
^sTART !initialize x.21.0041
The time of crisis has come
The sylvan parasite pollutes the flow
Yet from its contagion rises hope
Tyria’s fate stands at future’s door
Key dimensions speak of the past
Present may exist over and again
On the threshold sleep is the guide
Usher in the Mo Zing
Sanctum’s child like savior will rise
Hidden from the seeing sylvari eye
With foresight that may not be known
Reflection erased by choice
Native tongue shatters glamor’s spell
And crystal gate shall yield
Within the dark path is filled with light
Hovering on the brink of disruption
Divided by three fold time
Perched on the keepers pedestal
The final battle is waged
Behemoth’s maw bears witness
Echoes weaken obfuscated truth
^eND !finalize x.21.0063
x21.0083 – .0101
^sTART !initialize x.21.0083
From upon high, O winged soul, traverses great expanse.
Fates unplayed card, once veiled in sleeve, lay Tyria’s second chance.
A hero’s trek, divine decree, the stoic ambles on.
Hope’s favored Knight, on noble quest, from fabled once upon.
The untamed lands, ‘neath wildwood, the worldblood flows to source.
Exalted power, it rests in wait and ponders future’s course.
The time is come, our worldly fate, within the talon’s hold.
A savior’s rise, a coup de grace, an augury thrice foretold.
On threshold of serendipity, stands the crystal door.
Fate deals aces over eights, turning less to more.
The plasmic gate stands true and firm, ignoring chances call.
A single soul allowed permit and enter shielded hall.
Retracing steps, familiar path, never once pre-tread.
A balance twixt, a moment next, last living yet first dead.
Tempus loop, returns refrain, the strands of fate align.
Conundrum’s path has many routes and reticulating splines.
^eND !finalize x.21.0101
Chapter 26 – Deep Delve
Well, the difference between the first few sections and these last two is that the last two are completely new to me. It strikes me as strange that I may have read only part of this book in the past. Plus, its content is by no means standard light reading. Unfortunately, the illumination for which I seek remains poised elusively beyond my grasp.
Midnight returns from her wanderings and looks to me with that quizzical feline expression as if to say, ‘So, what’s next?’ I glance back to the old falls, having already made up my mind to follow the backpack owner. Gathering my meager belongings, refilling my waterskin, and folding up the few remaining pieces of fish from breakfast, I shoulder my newfound backpack and we walk toward the back of the ravine. On the way to the old falls, I notice that the backpack fits quite nicely; almost as if it was made for me. Well, at least I know if and when I meet its previous owner, I can expect them to be pretty much my size.
Three quick jumps put us down to the next level of the ancient river. Outside a scattering of leaves, the continued path shows very little variance. Ahead, I can see a pile of rocks over towards one side wall looking as if they had been let loose and tumbled en mass to my level. Immediately I became wary and scan overhead for any precariously balanced overhangs. As I approach the rock pile, I can see yet another dry cataract lay directly ahead.
Standing at the rocky cave in, two things catch my eye. First, it looks as if the impact of the fall caused a section of the floor closest to the edge to give way into the darkness below. And second, a battered skeleton lay unceremoniously at the piles edge. The unfortunate soul before me looks to have been dead for quite some time. The squishy parts are long gone, subject to the unrelenting workings of nature. Closer inspection shows no signs of being consumed by any carnivore of note either. Human, I would guess, by the head shape. It had a body size somewhat similar to mine, though that is where the similarity ended. I wonder if this could be the backpack’s unlucky owner? Though now that I think about it, the apparent time of death does not seem to correspond to the recently-used campfire above.
I hold Cobalt over the edge of the drop-off and peer into the darkness below in vain.
“It looks like that option is out”, I say glancing in Midnights direction.
She proceeds to wander over to the other side of the rubble pile and without warning, leaps over to a ledge. This ledge works its way down the side wall, where she sits and waits.
“Well, quite the adventurer you are.” I say, as I leap to the first step of our pending descent.
We continue jumping from ledge to ledge as we work our way down the tunnel’s wall. Our final jump to the tunnel’s floor looks to be about six meters down. Doable, yes but it runs the risk of a possible injury, which I am not sure I want to chance down here. Not to mention the problem of Midnight getting down. Then it comes to me. I pull out the coil of rope from my backpack and tie it off to the base of a hearty stalagmite. I will climb down and scout the area ahead before attempting to rig up some kind of harness for Midnight.
“I’ll be right back.” I assure her, glancing over my shoulder as I walk away. To my surprise, however, she is standing right alongside of me.
“You are quite the puzzle solver aren’t you?” I say with newfound respect for her skills. “All righty then, off we go.”
We continue further along the tunnel for a ways, and as it makes a sharp right turn, it opens on a huge domed chamber. An underground lake which sits at the center dominates almost the entirety of my vision. Scrambling down the final cascade, we stand at its edge.
Chapter 27 – Strange Sight
I start to laugh. Not entirely because it is funny, ha ha, but more so because it is peculiar. Floating not far from where I stand is an old wooden rowboat. Hiking up my breeches, I wade out to retrieve the odd offering and bring it ashore. What a curious thing down here in these secluded depths of Tyria. I pull the boat up on the rock ledge by its broken leader so that it doesn’t meander away of its own accord and stare. A boat, down here, just wandering its way around this sequestered basin? I shake my head, confused. Ever since I have stepped foot into the ravine’s mouth back on the surface, I have been greeted with various oddities which seem curiously out of place. Luckily, knock wood, to date such peculiarities have been personally advantageous.
Further exploration of the lake-shore yields one other peculiarity. Hidden by the side of the traversed falls where we entered, maybe not so much purposefully concealed but more likely missed due to my lack of observance, lies a carefully laid out pile dyed leather. Upon further examination I find it to be a well-maintained full set of emblazoned armor. I look around for someone snickering at the look of utter surprise most assuredly plastered across my face, but to no avail. This time, unlike my backpack offering, I don the armor without question or hesitation. Curiously, once cinched into place, it all fits me like a well-oiled glove. Why my mysterious benefactor would leave a full set of exotic armor just lying about is thoroughly beyond me.
I look at the lake, and then over to the boat; hopefully my future exploration would not involve swimming. It seems that I am averse to putting my head underwater; the thought of being completely submerged is rather unsettling. In an unusual contrast, being forced to endure a bit of surface-swimming Ascalonian-crawl style does not strike me as quite disheartening. I walk over to the boat and Midnight hops in. Our aquatic adventure begins.
(edited by Yalora Istairiea.6287)
Chapter 28 – Hostile Deep
With Cobalt unsheathed in my lap, I begin to row in a somewhat-straight line towards the perceived center of the lake in an effort to cross as expediently as possible. The surface is relatively calm, periodically disturbed by small, concentric ringlets from drops of hidden stalactites above. Though rowing is somewhat awkward, it doesn’t seem completely foreign to me. A glance over my shoulder yields a potentially unsettling sight. Midnight is leaning over the starboard bow staring down at the water below. A low, guttural growl rumbles in her gullet. I start to scull faster. The boat rocks as if struck by something large below. My arms are pulling wildly as the boat comes crashing to a halt. We seem to have struck something, hard. Releasing the oars, I spin around; the bow gunnel is splintered and the boat is taking on water. Midnight is no longer in the boat but standing on what looks to be a stone dock, the apparent cause of our watercraft’s demise. I scramble up with Midnight and peer at the boat as it slips effortlessly below the surface.
“Well girl, it looks like we are committed now.” I say, somewhat relaxing, as I put my hand down on the back of her head, scratching unconsciously.
Holding Cobalt aloft for a better view I begin to turn and examine our situation. Just then a spike-encrusted tendril leaps from the depths below and strikes me squarely on the left shoulder, knocking me down on the stone dock. Blood spatters everywhere; unfortunately, it is mine. Looking up I see Midnight maul the attacking thick vine of dripping spines. Rising, I bringing Cobalt to bear.
Dark as pitch, streaks of lightning boundless
Bittersweet rage casts a blazing sheen across perception
Hack and parry
Echoes of battles long forgotten
Slash, slice, stab and counter
Deeply summoned force
Sap and blood
Lifted from limbo, my stupor abates. Had it not been for my new-found armor, the outcome of this battle may have been quite different. Midnight limps back to me and I tend to her wounds. Blood flows from my shoulder, left arm and both thighs mixing with the yellowish green spew of the lifeless aquatic tendril lying across the dock. After Midnight is taken care of, I address my various leaks. Though mostly superficial they bleed quite profusely.
“What in all the Winged Ones deem most holy was that monstrosity?” I say to Midnight with a glance.
With help from Cobalt I work the heavy vine off the side of the dock. “Back from whence you came,” I snort as the remains sink into the depths.
I survey our current state of affairs as I walk down the dock away from the lake. As I near the shore I am greeted with quite the sight. The dock ends at the bottom of a flight of stone stairs which ascends about ten feet to a landing. As I climb the stairs I make out the shape of a huge closed door, which surprisingly seems to be constructed of solid destabilized ectoplasm. I consider, now that’s a sight you don’t see every day.
As I approach the stairs, Midnight bounds up on the landing. I pause on the first step with a concerned glance over my shoulder; luckily no spiny tendril from the depths is attempting to pursue us. I continue up the stairs but the wary feeling deep down, does not abate. Once on the landing, I get a better view of the crystalline door. The huge pull ring imbedded at its center would surely require both hands to budge this incredible bulk. I sheath Cobalt’s light to get a slightly different view. A soft, rose-tinted glow seems to emanate either from within the translucid door, or shines through from beyond. In sharp contrast to the stark, lithic feel of the surrounding hewn structures; completely covering the walls around the gate are some sort of pale, sinewy vines, so densely intertwined, as to completely obscure the walls beneath. The vines seem to terminate in many large pod-like structures, as they reach the crystal door.
Throwing caution to the wind, I grab the ring firmly and give it a mighty pull. Its massive occlusion silently laughs at my effort. I continue in like fashion for the next minute or so, to no avail. Exhausted, I release the ring. Panting violently, I bend forward, hands-on-knees, to catch my breath. Though I am sweating profusely, I remain quite cool. Looking at Midnight through drooped eyes, I can tell she is fast asleep. I slowly relax against the face of the door, backpack sliding across its crystalline structure. As I sit on the stone floor, my mist-clouded mind finely realizes, the trap has been sprung. I struggle to draw Cobalt but I am only able to barely clear the tip past the sheath-throat. I lower the brilliant blade to rest across my outstretched thighs and look up.
Panic should have welled up from the very depths of my being, but alas, all I can muster is the pleasant admiration of the deadly, beauty above me. From each pod terminated vine sprung a black as night bloom. The downturned Lilly-like bells yield numerous deep purple glistened fronds, their gentle mesmeric sway, enthralling. My eyes, weighed shut, another sad victim of the infamous, lethal plant.
In a labored whisper, “I should have known, Nightmare Vines”.
*****
(edited by Yalora Istairiea.6287)
Chapter 29 – Nightmare Vine
Meanwhile, in another part of the jungle
Elder Chicatl enters the learning chamber pushing a cart typically used by vendors to hawk their wares. On the cart was a single object, about a meter cubed and covered with a coarse, leather blanket.
“Everyone grab your facemasks and gather round, my little tadpoles, for today’s lesson may be the most important in your brief lives.”
The children move toward Chicatl at the center of the chamber, some quietly snickering to themselves. Chicatl, though brilliant, had a tendency to be quite overly dramatic and the children knew it. The last ‘most important lesson’, had to do with the semantics of action and reaction as it applied to the pray of a constrictor snake. Before that it was the lesson about how various floras had a kind of intelligence without a brain. Donning their facemasks, the children gather in a circle. Chicatl addresses each child in turn, checking the fit and making adjustments to each child’s mask as needed. When satisfied, he returns to the cart at chamber center, and with a flourish usually associated with street magicians, he snaps off the veil.
Beneath lies a glass enclosed cubic terrarium, and within it just two things. A dwarf Banyan tree, its canopy full even with its diminutive size, and intertwined in its branches, a web of sickly, pale vines supporting a structure of grey, bulbous pods hanging downward.
The Professor clears his throat as the lesson begins. “Students, you are about to witness the intricately-lethal workings of one of the most dangerous plants on Tyria, the Nightmare Vine.”
Pausing to gauge the reaction on their mask-scrunched, frog-like faces, he continued. “This vine has been grown to its current size in just two moons. The spores were introduced two nights ago, and the pods formed last evening. Now that may not be very impressive to your young minds, but what you are about to witness will surely astonish you.”
The split lines develop in a spiral; as they wind around the pods, he continues, “Without light, the vine, once reaching this maturity stage, goes dormant. Who wants to get a Rootrat from the cage?” A multitude of wiry arms shoot into the air. The Professor nods to the quickest to fetch the rat as he carefully lifts the glass lid. “Plop him into that far corner,” he notes as the student drops in the rodent. After replacing the glass, he notes, “Now keep one eye on the rat and the other on the pods.”
The rat scurries about, checking out its new environment. The first pod silently splits along the spiral lines, and a midnight black lily-bloom springs forth. Sharp intakes of breath come from various covered mouths around the scene, followed by an “oooooo”. The petals unfold, showing the slick violet fronds inside.
By the time the fourth pod opened, the rodent had become noticeably slower. “Now, watch the rat,” the Professor said, knowing full well what was to come next. It lay down as a sudden desire to sleep overcame it. Soon its little legs started to twitch, not in violent spasm, but more like it was trying to run.
“It’s dreaming now,” the Professor said in barely a whisper.
*****
Chapter 30 – Nightmare Ride
The sun beats down on my upturned face as I catch a sweet whiff of a faint honeysuckle-like essence in the air. Lichen dots the aged stone-covered path as it winds listlessly through the jungle. Leaning heavily on my bramblewood branch, I amble on. Midnight slinks forward as is her nature. The air thickens as we approach the reedy bog ahead.
At the marsh edge, the path switches from stone-covered to a kind of hard-packed soil-and-stone mix as it wanders into the swamp. The path eventually splits, one taking a northerly and the other a southerly course, as it circumvents the more difficultly traveled bog-center. We decide to take the southerly route on our trek to The Falls. From time to time the path is forced to switch from hard-pack to pylon and plank, where the swamp refuses to allow firm soil.
On one of the longer hardwood planked sections, Midnight moves to scout ahead as I scan the perimeter for peril. Though our amphibious Hylek friends tend to keep these paths relatively free from Mordrum, dropping ones’ guard anywhere in the Maguuma Wastes is just a fool’s errand.
Midnight is stopped on the planks ahead and is staring at a particularly dense piece of overgrown fen. As I catch up to her, a low growl rumbles deep in her throat, and her ears flatten back. My stout Bramblethorne staff is readied in defensive bearing, just as the plank on which we are standing tilts, dumping us into the fetid waters below. Midnight flounders, desperately trying to swim in the thick mire while I am stuck up to my shoulders in the sucking peat bog. Completely coated in muddy slime, my majestic companion can barely keep her head above the surface. The dense undergrowth which caused Midnight’s alert parts, and a huge plant-mutated lumbering form of a Mordrem Husk strides forth. I sink to my chin just as Midnight’s head disappears. Farewell my good friend, safe travels to the Happy Hunting Ground. And then, just as I am about to choke down my final breath of wetland muck, a voice.
“Hear me youngling, and through your action, usher in fate’s perdition or exoneration. You are the lock, you are the key. With you and you alone lies the fate of the world. Your course of action is yours and yours alone. I cannot influence your decision or through inaction allow your decision to be influenced.”
*****
Chapter 31 – Nightmare’s Snare
The professor quietly backs away, allowing the circle of enthralled children to fill in the gap in his wake, charmed by the smooth undulations of the purple, glistening filaments of the Nightmare bloom. Slowly, the vines inch towards the dream-stricken rat still performing its leisurely semblance of a delusion-induced run. As the children are mesmerized in anticipation of what was about to transpire, two blooms stealthily move toward where one of the children had moved their face too close to the glass. With a moist slap, three of the bloom stamen smack against the glass, sending the startled student windmilling to the floor. A nervous laughter trickles through the throng, as they all take a cautious step back.
“Careful,” said Elder Chicatl. “Had it not been for the glass, your whole face would be completely numb already.”
They turn back to the enclosed cage just as the first frond touches the rat. Four slick filament anthers shoot the last handbreadth forward, two each attaching to the rats running hind legs, seconds later they stop moving. Filaments from various other flowers soon follow till the rat is completely entwined.
As the children look on in fascination, the professor unconsciously mumbles a verse deeply buried from his childhood.
“Night doth breed with fast contempt, beneath the jungle soil.
An Inquest failed experiment, for knowledge search with evil bent and spewing forth from containment corrupts Ameyalli’s toil.
Branches creak ‘ware troubles deep, blossoms black as oil.
Nightmare vines like spider snare, with odious stench of stagnant air and merging to a dream nightmare, consume its living spoil.”
“What’s that Professor?” the closest child inquires.
“Oh, just musings of something from many moons ago.” “Tsk, tsk, come now, pay attention,” he scolds, directing the student back to the scene.
The rat convulsed violently; twitches and spasms wracked its body for nearly a minute and then, just as quickly, all movement abruptly ceased, with the exception of its rapid, labored breathing. In due course that too suddenly terminated.
“Hey, it killed Digger,” one child exclaims.
“We could only hope,” Chicatl said. “Watch.”
Slowly the filaments start to detach from the motionless rodent, trailing its slick excretion back into the black lily bloom. Beneath the rats flesh, lumps start to form. Nightmarish pustules protrude through the fur, bursting in greenish yellow corruption; and from each pustule node a sickly green leaf springs forth. Likely fueled by the gruesome scene before him, Chicatl’s childhood verse returns, but this time, he dare not utter.
‘Another rears its scaly crown, a plague of dragon scorn, and with a look of vile distain, a glimpse of woe without refrain, dealing death in Elder’s name, forsaken and forlorn.’
All around the rodent’s corpse small wriggling vines spring up as the transformed Overgrown Rootrat starts to rise. With a sharp intake of breath the children back away and as if on cue they whisper in fear, “Mordrem!”
Looking at the visibly stunned faces below, Chicatl croaks “Thus endeth the lesson.”
*****
Chapter 32 – Nightmare Battle
I cannot feel my legs. My eyes snap open and I am nearly blinded by the radiant brilliance. I lay flat on my back, staring up at a rough stone ceiling. Rolling my head to each side confirms I am in some sort of tunnel. Fear wells as I look down towards my feet. A scream is stifled in horror; everything from my hips down is gone, swallowed up by the crystal door.
I sit up, and in an exercise in expected futility, I reach toward the door. To my surprise, my hand goes into the crystal structure unobstructed. I snatch it back and examine luckily, it remains unscathed. I try to pull my entire body back out of the door, but to no avail. Cautiously, I reach into the crystal to where I would expect my hip to be and I feel something hip-shaped inside, though my hip does not register any contact. Reaching in with both hands, reinforces my belief that my torso is indeed still intact. I let out a heavy sigh, blessings counted.
I do not relish the thought of what path lies ahead. Throwing cautions to the wind, I take a deep breath, close my eyes and stick my head through the door. What lies beyond is quite disconcerting.
“Now there’s the rest of my body,” I say to no one in particular, but its current state is rather unsettling. The thought of Nightmare vines rekindle in my memory. My legs are completely engulfed by the webby strands of vegetative nightmare. The glistening purple filaments of the black blooms have entwined my legs and worked their way through every nook and cranny of my emblazoned leather pants. A look to Midnight instantly raises my ire. She has not fared as well as I and is almost entirely enveloped in vines. Time has run out as she starts convulsing violently. I grab Cobalt, still resting unencumbered across my thighs, as fury overtakes.
Instinctive reaction of blinded rage
Fueled by friendship deep
Cleave and chop
The ring of nurtured steel sings forth
Keen of edge, unhindered
Leaves and sap, vine and bloom, flurry relentless
I stare at the scene before me. Tornado-riven foliage is everywhere. Cobalt drips a greenish-yellow sap as I grab Midnight and pull her through the crystal gate unrestricted. The convulsions have stopped as her breathing slows to normal. I pull my legs through the portal and flop down on the cold stone floor.
Time passes. “That was close.” I say, relieved as Midnight starts to stir.
Her eyes flutter open as I scratch her neck. “Take it easy girl; you’ve had a rough time of it.”
Eventually, we both slowly rise as feeling starts to return to our legs. With the Ectoplasmic door at our backs and Cobalt in hand, I turn to survey our situation.
Chapter 33 – Forced Will
I look to the huge black figure hovering by the hourglass-adorned pedestal which straddles the river of light. Two deep, azure-blue pools of living knowledge stare back. A strangely abrupt schism of duality suddenly overcomes me, like being wrenched into two places at once and then it just as abruptly subsides. I shake my head and without further hesitation, I move up the span to greet the ominous guardian.
”Pahbahzhen Chang Mo Zing Weh no Su, Ah ja singka ra beh Ader.”
“Pahbahzhen Seer, Behnu ra fan kuu.” Knowing this verbal honor of my native speak is purely for my benefit, I switch to common to alleviate nuanced confusion. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”
Following my lead, he replies, “I awaited your return. Shall I begin with my proclamation?”
Standing in the presence of the Seer, many of my past memories of our interactions have come flooding back. “No, no thank you; by this time I could probably recite it with you verbatim.”
My guide nods once affirmatively. “You have arrived quite early compared to your previous visits. Though we are still bound by an urgent limit, the time is not yet nigh.”
“Well, that IS good news.” I say with a smile. “Do we have enough time for a few off-topic questions?”
”The frugality of time is currently in your favor, but waste not its generous indulgence.”
Very well. “While I was beyond the Crystal door,” I say, pointing absently from whence I came, “I had a horrific nightmare; you were there, weren’t you?”
”I was indeed, and by my very nature, I was forced to intervene, since through my inaction I would have allowed your decision to be influenced.”
“I would have died!”
”No, you would not have. That is not permitted.”
I stand, mouth agape, staring into his deep azure pools. “Not permitted! To die?”
”That is correct. Destiny has defined that you have a task to fulfill. Until such onus is lifted, a mortal death is beyond your grasp. ”
“Not that I am ungrateful, but if I may be so bold to ask, by whose authority?”
”That is outside my realm of enlightenment. Suffice it to say, The Powers That Be.”
There was finality in his demeanor in reference to ‘The Powers That Be’, inferring that subject matter was closed.
“Ok then, but wouldn’t giving me the knowledge that I cannot die influence my future actions from here forward?”
”It does not. Two things preclude that knowledge from affecting your ‘future’ decisions. Namely, you are still bound by the laws of paradox as they apply to a temporal traveler. Knowledge in the present as it pertains to a journey to the past is not necessarily restricted from a causality loop, due to the fact that you are required to create said ontological paradox in the first place and therefore are immune to it. For you to be entwined in such a temporal enigmatic paradox would break the sequential chronologic continuum and shatter the Arch of Time.”
“And that would be bad,” I say in a half-jesting manner.
”If that is to be your decision.”
I stop short, trying to contemplate the Seer’s meaning. “You mean I can, I can um, break time itself.”
”Such an outcome is within the realm of possibilities.” The Seer says. “Should you decide to do so.”
“Weeelll, I don’t want to do that!” I say, aghast. “And how can I avoid that situation?”
“By altering your ability to do so.”
“So I can stop my ability to allow my knowledge of my current actions to affect past actions which I have not taken yet?” My head starts to swim.
”You can.”
“But I do not have such an ability,” I pause. “…or do I?” I finish, as a thought takes form. “The reason that I do not have knowledge of my previous actions is because I have had my memory altered in the past?” I say in a somewhat-rhetorical question. “I have requested that you wipe my memory, haven’t I?”
”You have.”
“So my amnesia is my own doing. Well, what do you know?” I say, trying to shake the clouds of bewilderment from my skull. “Very good, and will you erase my memory again?”
”If you so wish it.”
“Ok then, let’s get this out of the way. I would like you to wipe my memory as you did in the past but not until directly before the energy spike hits.”
”As is your wish.”
Switching tacks back to the much less brain-overloading subject of my previous nightmare, I ask,“YOU were the Mordrem Hulk in my dream, weren’t you?”
”I did assume that dream-semblance.”
“But why would you take such a horrific creature to portray?” I asked.
”As part of the Nightmare Vines proliferation process, it first induces sleep, followed by a dream state. It then alters into a horrific nightmare in order to generate an adrenal overload, which the plant then uses to spread its spores and mutate its victim into a Mordrum. I just used its own nightmarish process against it, allowing me to input my will into your consciousness.”
“Uh huh,” I said, feigning understanding. “Well, it seems to have worked, so thank you.”
An affirmative nod was the Seer’s only response.
*****
Chapter 34 – Nightmare’s Outcome
It seems that Chicatl’s intense demonstration had chimed a discordant chord with the children, as was the Professor’s intent. Each child slowly shuffled out of the learning chamber, head hung low in quiet contemplation. Hopefully, though dire, this instruction will someday save their lives. His large eyes begin to well up, thoughts of his own spawn, who unfortunately did not receive such all-encompassing instruction from his teacher, never to be seen again.
A simmering anger rekindled deep in his being; the thought of Mordrem nearly made him sick. ‘I am sorry, my son, for failing you.’ he thought, walking back over to the terrarium cart. Wheeling the cart slowly toward where a pillar of sunlight was beaming down from the oculus above was bettering his mood with every step. In the middle of the shaft, he stopped the cart. The Nightmare Vine’s black blooms start to wither, oozing slime and twitching, until the vine fell from the Banyan tree, dead. Deeply satisfied, Chicatl moved the cart back into its storage spot and covered the remaining tree and Overgrown Rootrat with the leather blanket, content.
*****
He continuously wanders; searching, testing, and reasoning a plan for escape. It would have never occurred to him in the past that there was more than one way to solve a problem. It is no longer about scurrying into some hidden corner, hiding as a way of life. No longer a matter of a constant existence teetering on the edge of fear. No longer the hunger-induced incessant search for food, day after day. Now, there is a new motivator. Now, it is about pain. Now, it is about suffering. Now, it about death. And the next time that bulbous giant sticks his fleshy appendage into my glass cage, I’ll rip off its arm and climb out on its bloody stump. Contented, he curls into a secluded vantage at the base of the Baynan to await his prey’s return.
*****
Chapter 35 – Destiny’s Reckoning
I unshoulder my pack on the bridge in front of the pedestal. Using it as a seat, I plop my highly-confused posterior down for contemplation. This vantage placed me eye level with the three hourglasses. I stare at each artifact intently in succession. The carved, ancient wood hourglass to the left, its blood-red sand defying gravity as it flowed purposefully from the bottom to the top chamber. In the center, the sculpted oricalcum timepiece, with its normal flowing snow-white granules, near completely depleted from its top bulb. The last atypical timepiece, on the other hand, defies all sane explanation. Though vaguely resembling an hourglass in a disturbingly-related fashion, the mind and eyes disagree on a valid explanation of the feasibility of the non-Euclidian shape which bears its sapphire sand.
I look to the Seer in hopes that he would offer up some semblance of explanation for a plethora of ignorance yet unimagined. Unfortunately, his eyes, which are of the deepest blue, are deadpan, revealing not an inkling of their hidden knowledge.
I look back down to the three hourglasses, “The task comes to me to address the unintended results stemming from the malicious ambling of the lost sylvari.”
”It does.”
I inwardly smile. No monosyllabic nonsense this time. “The threads of time have become twisted, frayed, weakened to the point of breaking. Past, present and future are askew, causing the anomaly of which only you and I are aware.”
”Relatively speaking.”
“And it is up to me to unweave this chaotic skein.”
”It is.”
“Am I correct in assuming it would be fruitless to ask what I did in the past?”
”Yes, though not for the reason you might think. Through my various encounters with you, I find that in your mind, you envision that past, present and future as finite points plotted on a linear path to be interpreted, categorized and filed into their appropriate places along the conduits of your temporal perception. In actuality, the true continuum of reality differs, quite vastly, thus invalidating our reiteration of perceived past actions”
“Is this situation within my realm of understanding or is this just exercise in obtuse futility?”
”From your skewed observation of reality, that is yet to be seen.”
I pause and contemplate and after a bit, “Do each of the hourglasses represent the three of my perceived, tenses of time?”
”They do,” He says with a nod.
I look down at the three expertly crafted hourglasses, each with their unique adornment and features. Pointing to each in succession starting with the ancient wood one on the left and ending with the strange exercise in distorted geometry to the right, I say, “Past, Present and Future?”
”Correct.”
I smile inwardly, “If I were to manipulate one of these hourglasses, would such manipulation result in the alteration of reality in that time frame?”
”To a degree, though in the case of the hourglasses, manipulation can have many meanings.”
“Is it safe for me to touch the hourglasses?” I ask in a wary tone.
”Touching any of the hourglasses will not result in any initial malign effect; your subsequent actions however, could very well have significantly different results.”
“Can I manipulate more than one hourglass?”
“You can,” He says, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side.
“I have not employed more than one of them in my perceived past, have I?”
You have not.
“So If I manipulated two or more of the hourglasses, how would the results play out?”
”Like the sand through the hourglass, the last in is the first out.”
“I see. And what is the trigger for my manipulations to begin?”
”Your ‘will’, but take heed; once the process is started it must play out to completion.”
I look back to the three artifacts. The Past, Present and the Future of Tyria all lie directly in front of me. “So I was wonderi…” Just then, a feeling of pending doom arose with a shudder. Glancing over my shoulder yields the anticipated view of the spike of pure energy bearing down toward our obliteration.
The Seer speaks with no hint of emotion. ”The time, is nigh.”
Chapter 36 – Triple Time
I have run out of time. Truly an odd thought indeed. It seems quite the silly notion, standing here in front of the tools of time itself. I had so many more questions for my guide, which will unfortunately remain unanswered. Yet, during the interaction with the Seer, I had thankfully not been idle. Each question had pointed me in a direction, albeit not all of the directions led me down the same path. He had said, in our many former encounters, that I had only manipulated one of the aspects of time. I now realize with each instance that it was the ancient-wood hourglass which attracted my attention. I had previously been thinking of addressing the past via a path in only two dimensions, unsuccessfully looking to change a historical event on a hypothetical timeline. This time though, things will be different.
I look up to those twin deep-ocean pools and smile. His returning stare is intense, his indomitable visage unchanged. I look to the hourglasses as my plan restructured. Gone was the single two dimensional course of lineal cause and resulting effect which had typified my accepted thought. In its place grew a multifaceted structure of form and function – a continuum of threaded strands splitting at causal nodes, yielding a myriad of outcomes intertwining into infinite perpetuity.
I reach forward, skirting the ancient- wood relic of the past, to the oricalcum artifact of the present. Grabbing the top bulb, I tilt it towards me. Its sand immediately reverses direction and starts filling the upper chamber at a speed faster than its isthmus connection should have allowed. I felt a gut-wrenching tug on my soul as flashes of my recent actions play in my mind, carrying me back to a point where I stood with Midnight on this side of the destabilized ectoplasmic crystal door. I released the hourglass, which rights itself as it was before I began. The snow-white sand hung in stasis, poised between moments in time.
Next I grasp hold of the future and tilt it forward. Its deep blue sand releases from its static calm and flows like quicksilver to the bottom chamber. Unlike the effect of its predecessor, initiating this change caused me barely a twinge. Unrecognizable images flash forward at breakneck speed. I can make out just a few fleeting images as a deep discomfort rises in a wave, like soon-disgorged bile. The pain becomes unbearable and I release the hourglass which quickly reseats itself followed just as quickly by the vanishing of my pain.
I can feel the onslaught of the pending energy spike of doom but I dare not pay it heed. Refusing to stay my course, I reach for the ancient relic of the past and lean it towards me. Scenes from my recent past come flooding trough me – scenes from the underground lake to the river gorge, the rocky outcrop and the jungle floor where I first awoke. And as I was about to release my hold on history, current events come to a jarring forefront.
With a look of what I can only interpret as pure fear, the Seer leans toward me. ”The veil has lifted. The hidden have returned.“
Time has slowed to barely a trickle as the Seer reaches forward and places one huge hand on my emblazoned-armor chestpiece. ”Eidolon, infuse.” He says, as a flame-orange aura cascades from him, into my armor.
And as I am about to release the third hourglass setting my will in motion, the Seer places his hand on my forehead. ”Memory expunge A…” He says, without completion, as agony wracks every inch of his body.
The hourglass tilts drastically toward me as it is hit by an arrow shaft of deep-purple crystal, exploding into shards utterly unimaginable. The shock-wave travels down the pedestal and impacts on the plasmic river span below. As the bridge begins to crack, my consciousness fades away.
An agonized roar can be heard across all of Tyria.
THE END
- If you enjoyed this second installment of Forsaken Soul: A Path Familiar, you may be interested in the final book Forsaken Soul: A Tangent Askew found here:
https://forum-en.gw2archive.eu/forum/community/creations/Forsaken-Soul-A-Tangent-Askew/first#post5743597
post edited: to include link for book III
(edited by Yalora Istairiea.6287)