1080 - Wailing Dirge II (Patreon)

Our Home, a Field of Aesus

Sought in dreams, Found in need

Tested and Pursued, We built our Home

Foundations of blood and bones, Cast aside were our chains of iron and fear

Ten free generations lived and loved here

But now for us comes a wailing dirge

The words on the monolith raced through Leon’s mind, unsettling him deeply.  The runic scratches of the six lines marred the monolith’s mirror-smooth surface, perfectly placed to warp the reflection of Leon’s face into something inhuman and monstrous.  He felt pain and sorrow in the words, a sense of deep loss and regret from the graver’s hand left upon the glassy stone.

His visceral reaction, however, wasn’t shared by everyone around him.

“Incredible!” Cassandra breathed as she rushed forward to stare at the words.  Frantically, a notebook appeared in her hand, and after flipping it open, she hurriedly copied down not only the lines in their entirety but also her observations of the monolith.  “Carved by earth magic most likely,” she whispered as she wrote.  “No signs of chiseling, the lines are too natural…”

She paused for a moment only just long enough to reach out to touch the monolith, and Leon’s breath hitched in his throat.  He couldn’t consciously sense anything in or around the monolith that was dangerous, but after reading those words, something began tingling in the back of his mind that engendered extreme wariness about their environment.  He almost snapped out to stop her from touching the monolith, but the logical side of his brain that couldn’t identify any danger won that particular battle, and he remained silent.

Thankfully, nothing happened when Cassandra’s hand lightly brushed against the monolith.

“Definitely not engraved by hand…” she murmured before returning to her notes.

Leon left her to it, stepping away from the monolith to submerge the cavern beneath his new home in his magic senses once again.  Valeria moved to join him, her glittering blue eyes narrowed slightly.

“Something’s off here,” Leon quietly stated.

“Something more than the river of dead souls, ghost trees, and toxic magic?” she replied in similarly hushed tones.

Without missing a beat, Leon answered, “Yes.”

“We’re in a tomb,” Valeria said.  “I think anyone would feel uncomfortable here.”

Leon frowned but had nothing more to add.  He just felt… off.  A presence in the back of his mind, something he couldn’t place.  He felt like he was being watched.  His heart rate had been slowly rising since entering the cavern, but only now was he starting to notice.  His hands shook slightly, and his head was starting to pound with every heartbeat.

“Should I have the knights start securing the area?” Valeria muttered to him, her tone taking on a more worried tenor.

Leon opened his mouth to respond, but a gasp of elation from Cassandra stole his attention for a moment.  The purple-haired Imperial Princess had gone from the monolith to the murals on the walls behind the columns of the courtyard’s peristyle, her ruby-red eyes all but glowing with excitement as she took as many notes as she possibly could with only one hand.

Turning back to his silver-haired wife, Leon simply replied, “Keep them on alert.”

Valeria frowned slightly as her eyes met his, and she slowly nodded before turning and walking over to the captain leading their contingent of Tempest Knights.  Leon, meanwhile, followed Cassandra over to the frescos.  He didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt her flow, but he drank in the art on display.

Firstly, he noticed that the frescos had no words, leaving the interpretation of their content somewhat open.  Secondly, as his eyes raced over the murals from left to right, he started seeing something that greatly disturbed him.

The murals began with a monster of hideous proportions—some reptilian creature with dark brown scales and a head like an angler fish.  Its head was large compared to the rest of its body, with enormous teeth that he hoped the fresco was only exaggerating.  A long neck attached it to its muscular body; its shoulders were broad with arms like tree trunks, and instead of human-like fingers, the creature had vicious claws.  Its legs were comparatively short and terminated in shorter claws.  It stood hunched over like a gorilla, with its foreclaws helping to hold it up, though Leon could see it standing up straighter in later frescos.  Behind the creature extended a long tail that ended in a brutal stinger longer than its claws.  Most of the creature had been rendered in paint, but its eyes were the sole exception, notably made of a pair of finger-nail-sized carnelians.

As fearsome as the creature appeared, however, Leon didn’t think it was supposed to be a terrible monster—behind it was a golden halo that glittered like the paint had included gold leaf.  The rest of this part of the mural was rendered in simple red and orange geometric shapes, complementing the gold halo and brown monster well, though drawing less attention.

When Cassandra began moving down the wall, Leon slowly followed her, taking in every scene that the people here deemed important enough to place in such a prominent place.

The next scene showed the monster extending a claw toward a burning city while at its feet were half a dozen human figures—all of whom, Leon noted, were prostrating themselves fully before the monster, and were only tall enough to maybe reach the creature’s midsection if everyone were standing straight.

“Was it helping these people?  Or attacking them?” Cassandra wondered aloud.

The scene that followed didn’t give her any questions, showing the creature facing the fresco’s point of view, while surrounding it were golden pillars and more worshipping humans.

“Whatever happened, it seems this thing was placed in charge of these people,” Leon observed.

“It might have already been in charge,” Cassandra suggested.  “History never starts.  We only pick it up at certain points.  Something always comes before.”

The fourth scene was, perhaps, a little clearer.  The monster was gone, leaving a man of prodigious height, dark skin, and a severe countenance as the primary subject—the art style was highly exaggerated, leaving the man looking long of face with gaunt cheeks barely hidden by a black beard trimmed close to his jawline, with all of these features made by solid colors that lacked much in the way of lighting or detail.  Given the red carnelian eyes and the golden halo glittering behind the man’s head, Leon thought he knew what this meant: the beast had ascended to a high enough tier to assume human form.  Behind the man were a dozen women, all dressed in white and wearing veils that obscured their faces.

“Harem?” Cassandra speculated.  “Priestesses?  Maybe political leaders…”  She paused before turning toward Leon.  “If we get the chance, remind me to commission less ambiguous art of our family!  If we ever leave stuff like this behind, I want them to know who we were!”

“Planning that far ahead, are you?” Leon asked, his amusement only somewhat dampened by the slowly intensifying pounding in his head.

“Our legacy shouldn’t be neglected,” she haughtily replied as she turned back to the fresco.

Leon almost argued, but he thought back to the Thunderbird Clan ruins he’d been in.  All of their art had been even more heavily stylized than this, leaving it essentially impossible for someone like him, with no cultural knowledge that might’ve been inherent to the old Clan, without much of a way to guess as to the subjects of all those murals.

Focusing again on the fresco, he saw that they’d reached the final fresco before the doorway opposite the courtyard’s entrance.  The halfway point ended this first half of the story on a rather morose note, with the man in the previous fresco laying on a stone slab, the gold halo behind him now a deep black.  Surrounding him were not women in white, but a dozen different figures, half male and the other half female, now wearing black.  Notably, all had shared the man’s skin tone, though their eyes were now rendered in plain red rather than with carnelians set into the wall.

“Looks like it was a harem,” Cassandra remarked.  “Children, I think.”

“The start of an Inherited Bloodline,” Leon agreed.

From within his soul realm, he felt the Thunderbird’s attention fall upon him.

[Where are you, Leon?] she asked.

Leon quickly filled her in on the situation.

[Watch yourself,] she cautioned.  [Nothing in the Nexus is without danger.  These caves are known dangers; do not remain long.]

Leon hummed his agreement before moving to the other side of the door leading into the palace, following Cassandra as she did her best to document the frescos in excruciating detail.

The next scene showed all three figures leading a vast migration to the Nexus if Leon interpreted it correctly.  The Nexus was a great shining ball of light before the dark-skinned figures, while behind them were dozens of what Leon thought to be arks, though with smoother, more organic lines than the angular designs that the Ravens and the Thunderbird Clan favored.

An exciting journey, to be sure, but for these people, it seemed it was one doomed to heartbreak, for in the following scene, two of the leading figures lay face-down, black halos denoting their likely deaths.  The final figure was on his knees before a bronze-skinned man in golden robes, while behind him the organic-looking arks burned.

This scene smoothly transitioned into the next, where large groups of dark-skinned people with red eyes stood side-by-side, connected by black chains and overseen by several men in identical silver masks and gold robes.  One of these opulently-dressed figures was graphically gouging out the eyes of one of the now-slaves.

[Hardly a unique story in the Nexus,] the Thunderbird drawled.  [Those who come here unprepared, or who pose a risk to the status quo, are often ruthlessly suppressed, especially by those who are more proactive in defending their power.  Take note of this, Leon.  Regard all outside the Clan to be potential threats.]

Leon didn’t need to bite back a retort.  He could easily argue about the morality of mistrusting everyone else, or of how treating everyone else like a potential enemy might turn potential threats into enemies, but he knew what his blood represented and how his presence had the potential to upset the power structures in the Nexus.  Worse, he wasn’t even close to being among the strongest mages in the Nexus, which made him vulnerable to all those stronger than him.

His eyes lingered on the people in chains in front of him, especially on the figure having his eyes cut out.  Even in the simple style, the agony on his face was unmistakable.

In the next scene, a group of slaves were arrayed against a smaller number of figures in gold robes and silver masks.  Leading the slaves was a blindfolded man.

[Even the lowest of us can rise,] the Thunderbird observed.  [Those beneath you will not necessarily always remain powerless.  Do what you must to ensure they can never threaten your position.]

Leon didn’t immediately respond, his eyes drawn to the next scene.

The blindfolded man, leading a group of other now-former slaves, if the broken chains attached to their wrists were any indication, to a mountain with nine peaks.  The final scene showed that same mountain, but now with the nine pillars beneath it, the spiraling cities crawling up toward the cavern roof already there.

“That ended well,” Cassandra said with a grin.

Echoing her earlier statement, Leon said, “History never ends.”  His eyes flickered from the fresco to his wife, then to the dark cavern, illuminated only by the river, the ghostly trees, and the degraded ceiling enchantment.

“All glories are temporary,” she somberly agreed.

When Leon’s eyes returned to the fresco, he noticed something.  “Looks like this place wasn’t filled with these trees back when this place was inhabited.”  Indeed, the nine city-pillars on the fresco didn’t have a field of translucent bluish-white trees beneath them.

“Or,” Cassandra offered, “they simply didn’t include the trees.  Could be they were only focused on their own glories rather than showing the world around them.”  She nodded to each of the other scenes.  “None of the other frescos have shown the environment, either.”

Leon nodded, accepting her observation.

Reinforcing his position, however, the Thunderbird stated, [Places such as these appear in places of great death and sorrow.  As best as can be guessed, strong enough emotions might resonate with the Origin Spark, and the Nexus changes in response.  The trees grow to mourn the passing of millions, and the rivers flow to carry their souls onward.  Or so more superstitious people believe.]

[What do you believe?] Leon asked.

[I think that such superstitions are nonsense.  So many people rarely die peacefully; perhaps the magic used interacts with the magic of the Nexus in a way that leads to this phenomenon?  I’ve never studied it personally, nor have I taken much time to research it.  Honestly, Krith’is would’ve been perhaps the most knowledgeable about such things.]

Leon wryly grinned while a shudder ran down his spine.  [Not going to be getting many words from him anytime soon.]

[Better this way,] the Thunderbird smugly added.  [We benefitted from his knowledge, while the universe benefits from his absence.  Much knowledge was lost, but knowledge can always be rediscovered.]

Leon nodded, about to agree with her when something happened.  He couldn’t say what, but he suddenly felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice into his veins.  He trembled, the pounding in his head rapidly intensifying until he felt like a monk was banging a gong in the center of his brain.  He almost fell to his knees, but Cassandra noticed and dropped her notebook to catch him with a steadying hand.

“Leon!” she cried in alarm, drawing everyone else’s attention.

Before he could say a word, a distant, sonorous roar filled the cavern.  It was melodious, eerie, terrible, and inhuman.  More than anything, it sounded mournful, and around the city-pillars, the ghostly trees began to sway.

Leon gritted his teeth and stood straight up.  Silver-blue lightning raced through his head, relieving much of his pain and discomfort, and he began barking orders.

“Get into the air!  Ready yourselves for battle!  Any other groups in the cavern are to assemble upon us!  Keep an eye out for anything that moves!”

His people immediately shot upward, leaving him with Cassandra and Valeria in the courtyard.  His wives looked at him with great concern, but he simply took a deep breath, gave them both a reassuring look, and followed the others into the air, closely followed by his ladies.

In the few seconds it took for him to join the others, the distant wailing had died down, and with it, most of Leon’s discomfort.  Strangely, it didn’t seem anyone else had been affected by it.  Red had even assumed her wyvern form and started flying laps around their city-pillar, filling the air with challenging roars of her own.  In the distance, Leon could see Anastasios and Eva’s group racing his way, while from another direction, he could see a third group of his that found their way down into the titanic cavern doing likewise.  In all, he had a force of some four hundred, all fairly high-tier mages, led by three post-Apotheosis mages; a formidable force if ever there was one.

Questioning words were thrown around as the other two groups met up with Leon’s, but any answers were delayed as another haunting wail filled the cavern.  Again, the trees swayed in time with the wail’s notes, and rather disturbingly, the mist that covered the cavern floor began to roil and churn.

This, however, worked in Leon’s favor, for he could follow the waves back to their source: a gateway to another tunnel, behind which he couldn’t sense anything save for waves of weak, incredibly odd power.

“Pilots!” Leon shouted.  “Into your suits!”

Of his four hundred people, fifty were Ulta suit pilots, and from their soul realms came the suits.  All were already hovering thanks to the giants within, and it was an easy thing for the pilots to jump into their ten to fifteen-foot-tall suits.

Leon did likewise, calling his suit from his soul realm and quietly hoping that sealing himself into it might help isolate himself from whatever seemed to be affecting him.

“How are you, Siddi?” Leon asked.

“Ready for a fight,” the giant answered, sounding like she was eagerly anticipating some kind of scuffle.

“Good,” Leon replied.  “I think that’s exactly what we’re going to get.”

The gates of the distant portico burst open, revealing to Leon’s surprise a somewhat familiar sight: a huge reptilian creature with a head like an angler fish.  Its far too numerous teeth were far too long, preventing the creature from closing its mouth, while its hunched-over posture helped it to move like a gorilla, using its too-short legs and too-long arms to propel itself out of the gates like a bolt from a Lightning Lance.

It was easy to see the resemblance to the creature depicted in the frescos, and even easier for Leon to become immediately concerned about those implications.  After a moment, though, he noticed that while the creature on the frescos held itself with a kind of primal dignity, this creature seemed feral, its head twitching every which way, its enormous stinger on its tail following the direction it was twitching with unerring accuracy, while its eyes, instead of dark red like the fresco’s carnelians, were milky white.  Its scales, meanwhile, instead of forming a smooth brown coat, were jagged and rough, not appearing to fit well with each other, as if each scale had stopped growing before or after it was supposed to.

Most worryingly, its aura was flickering and utterly incomprehensible to Leon, though not in the sense that the creature was obviously stronger than he was.  Rather, every fraction of a second, the creature’s aura seemed to change, going from second-tier one moment to seventh-tier in the next, and then to ninth-tier, and then down to fifth.  It never moved past the tenth, but it flickered through the entire tier spectrum so rapidly that Leon found it impossible to pin down exactly how strong this creature was.

After several seconds, the creature stopped twitching and its head turned in Leon’s direction.  It was distant, but Leon felt a chill descend upon him as the creature’s blind eyes seemingly locked onto his own, despite the plates of his Ulta suit separating him from it.

And then a rune on the creature’s head began to glow.  Its scales were so jagged and broken that Leon hadn’t noticed it before then, but the rune seemed to have been carved into the creature’s forehead.

It was an ancient rune, one that Leon hadn’t encountered before.  Though he wasn’t sure, he thought the rune meant something like ‘Lord’, or perhaps ‘King’.

After a moment seemingly staring at Leon, the creature opened its vicious maw and screeched, filling the air with a third mournful wail that shook the entire cavern, then madly charged.

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