[The Twining] 18. Legacy’s Burden (Patreon)

When the walls converged, Isen wasn’t crushed. Instead, he felt something filling him from the inside, seeping into his core and racing through his meridians, then saturating his flesh. He was powerless against it, but the sensation left as soon as it had come.

When he woke, he was on the roof of the temple—no, the Compass of Legacy. The upper reach of the structure was a flat expanse of black stone. At the center, the large column loomed far into the distant darkness, its violet energy cutting through the murk.

Below, he saw the radiant lake.

He’d escaped. Or more accurately, he’d been released. For a moment, he just sat there, taking it all in. The Compass of Legacy… and the grave danger he’d encountered within it. And what had he gained for his efforts?

He didn’t know. He trusted that the opportunity had been real, and that he’d taken steps to seize it, but he didn’t feel any different. He was exhausted, his throat was aflame from thirst, and his body hurt, protesting every small motion.

Somehow, none of that mattered. Ros wasn’t here. He sniffled, his eyes watering, then rubbed his good hand across his face, as though he could wipe his emotions away. With stilted steps, he walked to the edge of the platform, then estimated how much force he’d need to launch himself off the platform and into the water.

Exhausted and injured as he was, at least he didn’t have to worry about sticking the landing. He just needed to slow his fall enough that he wouldn’t hit the water too hard.

He started cycling, intending to gather just enough energy to get him through this final stretch. As the energy thrummed through his body, a voice echoed in his head, bringing him to absolute stillness. “The burden of Legacy is to create a future better than that of the past.”

Eyes wide, he tried to control his breathing. It was those universal words again.

“You now bear the torch. Ignite the past to light the way forward. May it guide you through the ever changing mysteries.”

Suddenly, Isen could sense something with a sensation beyond sight, beyond even the uncanny sixth sense. Almost like the universal words, but less intrusive. As he stared at the roof, it felt like the words emanated from within the building, their meaning defined by the structure and its history.

The Seventh Compass of Legacy. Many may carry the burden of Legacy; only one needs to succeed.

Isen shuddered. What… was this? He looked down at his hands, but didn’t see—hear?—anything. He turned to the bone dagger dragging behind him on the stone.

Tempered Shard of Erasmus. A mighty beast formed its divine spark but lost its freedom on a wager. Consigned to darkness, its life was misery until the end. Its bones yearn for vengeance. Legacy lights the way.

Sinew of Erasmus. The sinew of a nascent divine beast.

Even as he stared, enamored by the descriptions, he staggered from his weakness. He didn’t have the energy to figure this out now.

He gathered energy in his good hand and his mouth, then sprinted to the edge, leaping off. Wind surged behind him, boosting his arc. A few feet from the water, he released the energy in his mouth, pushing himself back up. He cried when the rapid change in motion jerked his arm and shoulder, but he fell into the healing water a beat later.

He had never been so parched in his life. The quenching of his thirst overwhelmed even the burning sensation in his broken bones and ruined skin as they healed. He didn’t have energy to do more than drift, his face contorted in a grimace, his teeth clenched tightly.

When the rejuvenation was done, he dragged himself up on the pier and passed out from exhaustion.

***

Isen’s gaze was stony as he walked through the lone opening to the Compass of Legacy. Where before he was transported to the dark room with the statue and mural, now he just entered a single bare room, lightless and cold.

He slumped against the wall. He thought he remembered everything that had transpired, but he had so many unanswered questions. First among them was how he and Ros had been separated. They’d walked in together, his hand on Ros’s forearm. He’d been so certain of it.

Isen walked aimlessly from the room, over the icon of Legacy—a book embracing flames—and down the massive steps, leaping from stone to stone. He stopped on the pier, then looked behind him at the immaculate black fortress.

Maybe the Compass of Legacy had provided Ros what it needed to break through to the next tier. Based on some of the hints Ros dropped… it sounded like divine power might be able to carve a way out of the Twining. It was why there weren’t any divine beasts here, aside from the bear—but that monster didn’t count because it had probably been enslaved.

Isen didn’t think Ros would just leave him, even if it had broken through. It had Isen’s books, his clothes, and his spear all wrapped up in the rucksack around its neck. Ros would also know that Isen was alive, courtesy of the sharing of blood, so it wasn’t like Ros would’ve left because of a mistaken assumption that the teen was dead. If it had gained the ability to leave the Twining whenever it wanted, waiting for Isen shouldn’t have been an issue.

Isen groaned in frustration. He still needed to figure out what the Compass of Legacy had done to him, but for now, Ros was the priority. He tried to feel Ros’s blood within his own, to help him sense the monster’s location. Three hours later, he lashed out at the ground with his fist. His eyebrows were drawn together and his eyes were red. He still hadn’t felt anything, even with three rings in his core.

What was he supposed to do in this place without Ros? How on earth was he supposed to escape the center of the lake?

He resigned himself to wait for the beast—at least for as long as he could.

***

The small skiff tied to the pier was the only other object in the vicinity that had a description.

Ebonwood Dinghy. A dreamer sailed in search of knowledge, not for herself, but for her cruel master. Her journey ended at the Arch of Ember.

Isen had never seen a boat. He’d heard about them in stories, and knew the general idea was to propel the boat along the water without capsizing while steering it in the desired direction.

The dinghy didn’t have a sail and even lacked a pair of oars, which was slightly concerning. It didn’t even have a bench to sit on. It did have a rudder that reached up to his chest and could be pulled left and right. It looked like a shark fin with two handles on either side.

It can’t just be a boat, Isen thought. It’s a magic boat. Frowning, he began to cycle, his hands pressing loosely against the grips. He cycled energy into his palms, but it just flowed into the air, stirring up a wind over the wood.

It was the issue he had with the radiant water all over again—he couldn’t imbue his energy into anything more solid than air. It was a serious limitation, and he wasn’t sure if the problem was his cultivation level or more of a skill issue.

Enter the echo of the Ebonwood Dinghy?

Isen froze. What?

You can only enter an echo once.

He stared at the handholds, then backed away, scrutinizing the skiff. He obviously didn’t know what entering an echo entailed, but he didn’t feel any danger from the prompt. He decided to give it a shot.

“Yes,” he whispered.

Suddenly, his gaze wasn’t his own. He was watching the approach of the skiff from a distance. A woman was at the rudder, her robes fluttering in the wind of her passage. The skiff swayed through the water as she twisted the grips and shifted her feet. She appeared middle aged, her skin tanned and leathery. As she neared, he could make out a backpack placed on the boat’s floor and three weapons—pitchforks?—leaned up against the side, their sharp tips glinting in the golden light.

As Isen had suspected, the woman seemed to be imbuing energy directly into the grips, where it flowed down the rudder and produced a strong backward current, pushing the boat forward. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see how she was doing it.

She pulled the boat up next to the pier, twisting the grips upwards to slow the craft down. When they faced ninety degrees up, the boat fell still. While it bobbed, the woman unwrapped a rope that hung like a garland across her body, leapt to the pier, and tied the boat. She shouldered the backpack, then slid one of the three-pronged spears diagonally behind it, slotting another in the opposite direction to form an X. The backpack seemed to be made for holding the weapons in place, as they didn’t jostle as the woman moved toward the imposing black steps of the Compass of Legacy. Each step launched her an effortless five feet in the air, and soon she stood before the icon of the book embracing a flame.

She released her grip on the third pitchfork and leaned it on a pillar, then reached back into her pack and pulled free a journal. She sat and traced the icon’s design, copying it perfectly into the page. She also decided to draw a rendition of the temple-like façade.

Isen experienced all of this as though in a dream. Time moved inconsistently, and what must have taken her minutes to sketch felt like only seconds.

She put the journal away and approached the lone archway.

She tossed an excess piece of rope through it, holding onto one end. She pulled it back and gave it a quick glance. Next, she threw her three-pronged spear through the arch. Her brow furrowed and she seemed uncertain whether she should proceed, evidently not liking the results of whatever experiment she’d conducted.

The woman unloaded her pack, pored through numerous documents, and sat down to cycle. Ultimately, she decided to enter.

Time passed. The perspective slowly crept back to the empty dinghy. It bobbed alone for an uncountable number of years, silently waiting for the return of its mistress.

Isen found himself thrust back in his own body. Eyes wide, he grasped the side of the boat to support himself, sending it rocking. Droplets of water dripped down his arms. To center himself, he stared at his hands. They were small—a boy’s hands, rather than a man’s—and uncalloused. The fire had burned away the top layer of skin, leaving only soft, new growth to replace it. The burns hadn’t left scars, but Isen sensed an almost subtle iridescence to his nails, like the new coloration on the tempered dagger.

It was subtle, so he didn’t mind the change—it shouldn’t attract undue notice.

He took a deep breath. So. He’d seen the echo of the dinghy.

What had he learned?

Some people enter the Compass… and never return. He’d also seen how the woman had controlled the skiff, adjusting the grips to slow it down and change its direction.

Too bad he couldn’t send energy into it yet. He comforted himself with the knowledge that the woman was probably at least in the third tier, if she was strong enough to navigate her boat across the radiant lake alone.

The echo clarified some things, but Isen didn’t feel any surer of his path forward. He couldn’t use the boat and he didn’t know Ros’s status.

He bent down and reached for the dagger.

Enter the echo of the Tempered Shard of Erasmus?

He still had the distinct impression that the echo could only be used once. He debated whether to use it, but his sixth sense seemed… hesitant. If he waited, he felt like he might gain more.

It made sense—he was at the bottom of the hollow ring stage. If the shard showed him an echo of the divine bear’s life, then he’d likely gain more from the experience later, at a higher tier. Of course, if he lost the dagger before he consumed its echo, he’d never benefit at all. Risk and reward.

For now, he held off. He approached the dark fortress next, but no matter how intensely he stared at it, there was no prompt. Frowning, he stared at the sinew. No prompt. He stared at the dagger again. At first there was nothing, but after a few seconds the prompt reappeared.

After seeing the prompt once, I must actively will for it to show itself again, he realized, and more significantly, not all objects have echoes.

He didn’t know what to think about the power from the Compass of Legacy. The last remnant of a bygone era blessed him with the ability to see vestiges of the past. It was undoubtedly a profound blessing, but part of him wondered if this was really… it? The Compasses of Legacy were supposedly the only things that the ancient divinities could save. Isen figured they hadn’t sent them without a good reason, and they’d been fashioned from the energy of Legacy herself if what he’d seen in the Compass was true.

He considered anew the description of the black fortress: Many may carry the burden of Legacy; only one needs succeed.

To succeed in carrying the burden of Legacy sounded like the end goal of the bygone gods. Many people would carry the burden, like Isen, but only one would succeed. It implied that the burden of Legacy wasn’t just something to statically bear, but more of a journey, with one desired destination.

It was a power that would reveal more of itself over time... and hopefully, Legacy’s true purpose.

[ Yes, the name I'm leaning toward, Severed Divinity, has something to do with Legacy's power... to be further revealed in time. If people want to speculate go ahead, it'll be fun. ]