Inside the main building I only found spider webs—real ones this time—and a lot of dust. If not for the footprint immortalised in the grime, I would’ve thought I’d imagined the furnar given how empty and hollow the place felt.
The village outside also didn’t earn me anything aside from more questions. As if I didn’t have enough of those to choke on.
If this was all built from the memories of some people—in this case, furnars—then the image it painted was uncomfortably grim. There were personal effects strewn about the hovels. Not many. Not in all of them. But small things like tools, ruined clothes, even some stone toys mangled into almost unrecognisable lumps. The impression I got was of squalor and despair, of people that had lived at the absolute limit of subsistence. The feeling hung in the air like the smoke outside, and the silence only added to the discomfort.
It clung to the silent buildings as I walked about, feeling an intrusive observer into a life that had nothing to do with me. After inspecting a couple homes I was beginning to feel like a grave robber on the prowl. My time as intrepid thief came to a rather quick conclusion, which was that I felt too icky to keep sticking my nose through the homes.
Fuck it, I’d find gear somewhere else. Maybe buy it with all that gold Methol said I had on me.
On the far edges of the settlement, I found why Methol said the node was growing.
The village just sort of ended after a point. The buildings were crowded right up against the wall, and from there sprouted several tunnels. They ended barely a few paces in. And not as a half-finished tunnel would, jagged and uneven. No, the farthest wall inside was perfectly flat and smooth, like running up against a piece of metal sheet in the middle of the way.
Touching the flat surface sent electric sparks dancing over my gloves, so I didn’t explore much more than that. You don’t fuck about with something that’s inexplicably electric.
I took down notes, though. More weird shit to keep in mind.
Climbing back up to the temple room was not as easy as it had been the first time around. By the midpoint I had to stop, set the shield down, and sit for a while to catch my breath. Had the shield been that heavy earlier?
Clearly, I’d been drawing far more from Eternity than I thought. I could understand that it helped me regenerate in a pinch, but this was proving ridiculous. How would I even survive on my own out here without the entity’s support?!
Well, at least that shone a light on why both it and Methol were convinced I was a hopeless klutz, to put it gently.
“What do I need to do to feel like I did before?” I asked the air, hoping my interface would answer me. “To get rid of this weakness?”
[Nothing]
[You are experiencing a temporary state]
[Estimated adaptation time: 05 days 12 hours]
[You will experience a slight reduction of physical strength]
[You will experience a slight reduction of physical and energy regeneration]
[Your potential remains limitless]
Thank you, fortune cookie. It’s good to know that after all the fuck ups, I could still ascend to ever higher plateaus of fuckuppery. Still, I’d probably have to replace all that support with stats, and then train for a while.
There was no rush. Nothing to push me forward. I could just stay around Harriet’s Heap and level up as much as I needed. Maybe I could also learn what a shadowbeast was.
Come the morrow, I’d have headcrabs and spiders to deal with, and maybe some furnar lookalikes. That would be an excellent time to test Melenith’s sword rune and some other skill synergies.
I remembered I also had a new skill I’d picked up in that moment of panic with the furnar blacksmith, but I wasn’t ready to see what I’d chosen and what it did. The whole interface blinking at me with notifications was already making my skin crawl and my hear throb. At some point I’d have to deal with them all.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
But not just yet.
For now, I huffed and puffed my way up to the top. This time I emerged back into the temple room sweaty and tired and red-faced, as if I’d been running a marathon. I wanted to wipe my face with my shirt, then realised I was about two rags away from shirtless. The Nightwish logo on the chest was pretty much gone, as was most of the shirt beneath my shoulders. Ribbons was a nice, gentle description for the ruin I wore.
I liked that shirt.
I liked the band the shirt named. For some reason, I felt a stab of longing at the thought.
I’d never again hear the music I used to love. I grew up with Nightwish. Discovered them randomly in an internet cafe back in my hometown, my first contact with metal altogether. Spent weeks downloading their songs off eDonkey and Limewire, together with a whole lot of viruses and dubious exe files. Listened to them together with everyone in the internet cafe and we sang along to tracks such as Nemo or Sleeping Sun.
Nostalgia kicked me hard in the ribs for that one. My eyes watered and my throat made a gluking sound, like I was choking on something.
I would never hear the music of my youth again. Never see the places where I’d made memories. Never do anything from my past. That was all done and gone now, maybe forever.
Probably forever.
You can never go back. Truer words…
With that lovely thought rattling around in my head, I headed up the dais and took the elevator down into the core room. There was someone else down here that understood all too well these sort of feelings, and misery does generally like company. I’m not sure when exactly I’d begun feeling miserable—sometime between the first Methol savaging and the reminder of my own mortality while climbing the stairs—but for now I chose to blame it all on the adjustments I was undergoing.
Melenith hadn’t moved from where I’d last seen her. She knelt next to her crystals and was speaking when I arrived. I didn’t catch the words. Tried not to eaves drop. Coughed loudly.
She rose in one, fluid motion, and turned red eyes on me. Salt streaked down her cheeks, twin white lines on her dark skin. If anything, I could swear she looked surprised to see me.
“Are your friends well?” Her voice was coarse with the rust of crying.
“They are.” I stepped off the platform, not really sure what I was doing down here. “Things are okay top-side. I expect trouble tomorrow, but for now things look well. Nobody’s dead. The villagers are all out cold for now. Could’ve been far worse, I guess.”
Her eyes did not stray away and I wilted a bit under the intensity of that gaze. “I… err… learned a few things about you, actually.”
Her fire limbs glowed in the sterile light of the core. But her hair just lay down her shoulders, not glowing or moving. Whatever power had animated it during the fight seemed dormant now.
I expect she’d asked what I’d learned, or who from. Instead, she sighed and spoke softly, “And why are you here, then, and not up there? What is left for you to do here?”
Well, I’d been stupidly honest to her before. May as well keep the streak going.
“I was told I need to lull you back to sleep. That it’s not good for you to be awake and by yourself.” I shrugged as her eyes narrowed and a slight glitter ran down the long locks of blood-red hair. “Didn’t come for that, though. Just wanted to check in and see if you were well. If I can do anything for you.”
This time, she laughed. It was a forlorn sound, like a shadow of mirth. I knew full well there wasn’t anything I could do, not in a moment like this, with a wound so raw. The loneliness of loss is such that you can’t escape through company. Only time dulls it, if at all, and an hour was not nearly enough.
Did she know what her condition actually was? That she was imprisoned after all? That she could never leave?
“Little one, you can’t do anything.” She squatted in front of me and her face came level with mine. Close enough that I could smell the scent of wood smoke in her hair and feel the heat coming off her burning arm. “But I will not go to sleep. Not yet. I know I must, but I do not want to.”
“Fair.” I held her gaze. “I can leave if you’d like.”
That got me a black-toothed smile and a gentle softening of her face. “I would like you to stay, Klaus. For a time.”
“Of course. Don’t you want to head up, maybe?” I thumbed over my shoulder. “More room in the temple. You can stretch your legs properly.”
At that, Melenith plopped down on her behind and folded her legs underneath her body. The burning one guttered out and left behind just the cauterised stump. The sight of it made my stomach tighten with guilt, but she didn’t say anything, and I thought it better not to draw attention to what I’d done.
“Here is fine,” she said and reached out a hand. An exquisitely sharp claw tapped on my scabbard. “Bring this out. I wish to teach you the working of my rune, so it may serve you properly.”
“You don’t need to do that,” I said, almost defensively. I hadn’t come down here to get something from her, and definitely not to pester her to teach me.
A part of me pointed out how Melenith was the only person I’d met so far that knew anything about runes. Crystal had only taught me if paid. The godling in front of me demanded nothing for her knowledge.
Another part of me grabbed the former by the ears and shook it until it shut up. I wasn’t there to take advantage of a grieving woman.
“I need not do anything, but want to do this.” She tapped my sword again. “I want to leave behind something of myself. Something to survive me once I go to a sleep I may never wake from.”
Oh.
I unlatched the whole scabbard from my waist, then sat in front of Melenith. She pretty much towered over me while I’d been standing and she seated. Now I felt like a child in front of an adult, ready to be taught how to tie my shoes.
A playful glint entered Melenith’s eyes when I drew out the sword. Her rune shone with inner light, as if drawn in glittering strands of fibre wire. It hadn’t done that before and I felt an ember in the weapon, as if it was drawing heat from somewhere.
When I held the weapon out to her, Melenith tutted. “I have changed my mind, human,” she said. “I will not teach you for free. I will trade you my knowledge.”
“For what?” By now, the prospect of being taught some actual skills had my heart racing. Being denied felt a little like getting kicked in the ass.
“I ask for stories of your home. Of your life on your world.” She was smiling now, thought it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I need exotic dreams to lose myself into, so I may never remember why I went to sleep in the first place. In return, I will teach you how to craft my runes and how to use them.”
I extended my hand out to her, “On my world, it’s customary to shake hands when you agree on a deal. What would you like to know?”