"So, did your parents bring any news?"
I asked Warfarin as she read a letter delivered by one of her parents' servants. Considering the proximity of the Moonfang ruins to her clan's territory, it wasn't surprising that they knew of our arrival.
I momentarily looked around, seeing the small camp set up at the foot of the hill.
"No, nothing new, they just asked a few questions: How are you? Have you been eating and sleeping properly? How's your business going? Things like that, and they also talked about how things are at the castle, everything's fine for now."
"I see, I'm glad you're getting closer. Did they mention anything about our supposed romantic relationship?"
I leaned against a pillar beside her, crossing my arms as I waited for the dreaded answer.
"HA, not this time. Hopefully they'll forget about it."
I didn't share the vampire's sense of humor, but I couldn't help but sigh in relief.
"That's a relief. I don't want the reputation of an old man who married a woman much younger than him."
I offered an amused smile, but to my confusion, a frustrated expression appeared on my friend's face.
"Is there a problem?"
"Actually, the rumors are the opposite. The races of Terra have different life expectancies, and because I'm a vampire, everyone automatically assumes I'm almost a millennium old, and you, being from Sargon, are probably one or two centuries old, so from other people's point of view, I'm the insecure old hag married to a man younger than her."
Momentarily, I froze like a statue, processing the information. Then, with wide eyes in disbelief, I stared at Warfarin, waiting for confirmation, which came in the form of a slow nod and a dejected look.
As much as I'm ashamed to admit it, I couldn't hold back.
"HAHAHAHA!"
I laughed with all my might.
"Hey, that's not funny! Do you have any idea what people said when we started traveling together?!"
"They were talking about you?! HAHAHA!"
The vampire growled, grinding her teeth, and with her pale face red with shame, jumped to her feet and started hitting me.
I put my hand in the way, pathetically defending myself while flinching with each blow, not from pain, but from the tickling they caused, which intensified my laughter and the vampire's fury.
"I'm not old! I'm too young to get married yet! I want to enjoy my life, see the world, meet new people!"
No matter how hard she tried, it was impossible to turn the situation around now.
-XXXXXX-
I chuckled slightly at the sight of Alden and Warfarin's antics in the distance, but, as much as I wanted to keep watching, I had more important things to do at the moment.
I entered one of the tunnels on the side of the hill, crouching slightly to prevent my antlers from dragging on the ceiling.
Eventually, I reached the central chamber where the flame burned, surrounded by revenants . There, the Banshees sounded their whistles to appease the ancient fury while the Liches wrote on scrolls and the other members of the expedition analyzed the inscriptions on the walls.
If I remember correctly, the Liches possess the knowledge of how to communicate with the spirits of our ancestors to obtain advice, knowledge, and divine the future.
Just now, one of them threw one of their scrolls into the flame. The paper turned to ashes and the spirits howled, swirling in a violent whirlwind.
Like magic, the ashes gathered together and the scroll returned as good as new, likely bearing the answer to the question asked. The other members of the group did the same, each throwing their scroll and receiving their answer immediately.
I approached slowly, observing the display with reverence, and glancing over the Lich's shoulder, I tilted my head in confusion, unable to understand what was written.
"The revenants speak a different language from ours, if that's what you wish to do. We Liches can understand it."
One of the Liches, the oldest and leader of his group, spoke before I could even ask.
"And what is written?"
"First, I asked a basic question: What should we expect on our expedition? However, the answers are always vague, like prophecies: Upon reaching the place where earth and sky meet, the winged beast will appear, guarding an ancient treasure."
"I suppose that could mean anything."
"Exactly, should I interpret the message literally or not? Unfortunately, this isn't the only thing that could happen during our journey, as the future is uncertain. Consider another example: On the tenth day, when the sun reaches its peak, two beasts will clash, bringing death and ruin, destroying what both wished to conquer. How about another? An ancient poison spreads through Kazdel, filled with resentment; it desires to reclaim what was taken."
"Hm… This last one worries me more than the others."
"For this reason, we will send the prophecies to Your Majesty, so that the Royal Court and their advisors may take action."
"Isn't there a possibility that the prophecies will come true precisely because we prepared for them?"
"Ah! It seems you've read enough stories to know that."
"These, and the ones about being careful what you wish for, because it might come true."
"You can't imagine how many of these stories we have in the Temple of Knowledge. Now, forgive me for the abrupt change of subject, but could you call your friend? We'd like his opinion on the matter; after all, he was here when it all happened."
I nodded and returned the way I came, calling Alden, and consequently, Warfarin. The return was quick, and soon we were back in the brazier chamber.
However, there was something different this time, and I wasn't the only one to notice. Bloodstains covered the floor, pulsing slightly as if they were alive.
Out of curiosity, one of the knights touched the stain with his sword, retreating and assuming a fighting stance when a ghost appeared before him, extending a hand before falling to the ground.
This display caused agitated voices to reverberate off the walls, but one person acted as if it were normal.
"Alden, do you know what this is?"
My question made everyone look towards the man for answers. Sighing, he stepped forward, answering my question.
"I've encountered these bloodstains numerous times in the past, and what we're seeing are the final moments of an individual before their death."
A series of sighs echoed through the room, the redhead's words primarily piquing the curiosity of the Banshees and Liches.
"And since Kazdel is a land of conflict, there's no shortage of blood. I suppose this must be a soldier of Ursus."
Touching a stain with his staff, the apparition of a strong man in military uniform emerged.
"This must be a Leithanian Caster."
A slender woman with long horns appeared when he touched the next stain.
"And this one, a Sarkaz warrior."
Finally, an armored individual with horns protruding from the sides of his head.
"What we're seeing is a remnant of the battles that took place in this region, of the many enemy invasions and the blood that was spilled in this sacred place."
The Liches, ever in their quest for knowledge, noted down every word that was said, while the Banshees had different concerns.
"These remnants, are they aware of what's happening around them?" one of them asked.
"If you're worried about whether they're trapped spirits, then the answer is no. Their souls departed long ago for the afterlife."
"How do you know that, exactly?" Ephram asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
"As you must know, I'm a foreigner, but I've traveled the world and seen many strange things. These bloodstains are just one more. I'd like to give a clearer answer, but what I know has been learned through constant observation."
"Hm… And do they represent any threat?"
"No, the bloodstains are completely harmless, but I don't recommend going around touching the blood you find on the floor; who knows what kind of disease you might catch?"
"To be honest, it's very convenient that they appeared the moment you set foot in the chamber, but you've been cooperating and somehow captured the interest of the Royal Court, so I won't insist on the matter for now."
"Thank you for your vote of confidence. Now, how about you tell me why I was summoned here?"
The Lich from before approached Alden, pointing to the brazier.
"You were the one who rekindled the flame, so I'd like you to come closer and demonstrate your Fire Arts to the revenants . Try to get some kind of reaction from them."
With a murmur of acceptance, Alden approached the flame while the rest of the members present kept their distance and watched in anticipation.
The revenants stopped flying aimlessly and stared at the man in silence, yet they floated around him as soon as the fire in his hand burned.
It might have been my imagination, but they seemed calmer.
"Interesting, the spirits seem to react differently to your Arts."
"Is there a reason behind this?"
"Forgive me, but your suggestion is as good as mine, but this opens the way for a new interaction between the living and the dead. Since we are here, is there anything you would like to ask them?"
"Ask what I need to do to return to the land from whence I came."
The Lich did as Alden asked, writing on the parchment and throwing it into the fire, receiving the answer moments later.
"What did he say?"
"Wait."
"Just that?"
"I'm afraid so."
The redhead clicked his tongue and continued using his arts. When the fire burned most intensely, the ghosts stirred, but as it diminished, they calmed down, following its movements as if in a dance.
I left them both behind and approached the other members of the expedition, mostly the Gargoyles and Sarkaz, analyzing the walls covered in ornaments, symbols, and inscriptions, one of them being a feline woman with a kind of giant spider emerging from her back.
I suppose the former are using their expertise in minerals and soil to discover the extent of the ruins and their composition, however, what Joel and Dafna were doing was what interested me most.
If I remember correctly, they are archaeologists and historians, so they must possess knowledge of the history of this place.
My footsteps caught their attention; Joel stopped removing dust from the inscriptions with a brush, and Dafna stopped writing in her notebook.
"Forgive me for interrupting, but I'm curious about this place. What can you tell me about it?"
The couple seemed to enjoy their work, as they perked up as soon as I finished speaking. And soon I was told the long history of the Moonfang.
A ruin dating back to the war against invaders from the sky, built by vampire clans who sacrificed the blood of their enemies to the moon during certain times of the year, thus empowering their blood arts to the highest degree—or so the books and stories said.
Even if it wasn't true, each wall and pillar served as a record for those who passed through here, with the names of the workers who built them, the kings and priests who performed rituals here, the dates of the rituals and lunar cycles, the battles fought, and the suffering of the Sarkaz in search of a place to call home.
Legends, stories, poems, prophecies—information was abundant on these walls. This place was a mine of ancient knowledge and culture.
The ruins changed hands for centuries, sometimes controlled by a different clan or enemy nation, each making its own alterations and using the site for its own rituals.
The eternal flame and forth on the hill are recent additions in all respects, the first dating back two thousand years and the second three hundred years.
Right now, the couple was working on creating a coherent timeline of events, but they expressed disappointment with the fate of the treasures found in a room full of corpses, as they would likely be added to the royal vaults.
I thanked them both for the shared knowledge and turned toward the man who initiated the chain of events that brought us here. The Lich and he were still testing the revenants ' movements, now walking away from the brazier as the spirits followed them.
I approached Zohara, making the little Lich jump in fear. I knew I was intimidating, but I felt a pang in my chest whenever she acted like this. Her cowardice would become a problem in the kind of country Kazdel was.
"M-Mr. Buldrokkas'tee, how can I help?"
I looked at Alden again, noticing that neither he nor Warfarin were paying attention to me, and I crouched beside the Lich, whispering in her ear.
"Could you do me a favor? Ask the revenants who Alden is."
She hesitated momentarily, but I knew she was curious too. Swallowing hard and nodding, she wrote on a piece of parchment and threw it into the flames, receiving a reply, though something seemed amiss, judging by her furrowed brow.
"What did they say?"
"Pygmy born from the abyss, frail human limited by greater forces, Undead cursed by the gods, Bearer of the Curse, Champion of the Rock, Warrior of Sunlight, Blue Sentinel, Pilgrim of the Abyss, Protector of the Bell, Protector of the Rat King, Champion of Blood, sorcerer, hexer, pyromancer, cleric, warrior, archer, assassin, spearman, crossbowman, knight, alchemist, blacksmith, conqueror of adversity, True Monarch, Slayer of Gods, Traveler of Worlds, Tarnished, Friend, Savior, Slayer of Demigods and Dragons, Future Elden Lord, Future Lord of the Night, Future Lord of the Frenzied Flame. The future is uncertain."
I would have frowned if I could; if those were Alden's titles, they meant nothing to me. My knowledge of other nations was limited, but I had never heard anything like it. Did he come from a different continent?
Then I remembered a peculiar detail.
"Ask who Alden was before he lost his memories."
Zohara nodded and repeated the process, but she hesitated before giving an answer.
"Born in the land of magic, prodigal son, savior of the lineage, child with the weight of his predecessors on his shoulders, husband, father, grandfather, warrior, conqueror, monster, you brought glory and prosperity in the name of your king, wonders to allies and horrors to enemies, but you painted the land red. In the land of the sands of your beloved, you lost everything facing the scarlet lion, now you wander the world, without memories and without knowing why. Was it worth it?"
"I think… I think that's enough, Zohara, thank you for your help. If possible, don't tell anyone what happened, alright?"
The Lich nodded quickly, a gesture I returned, then I retreated to a corner and observed the entire chamber, especially the red-haired man.
Was it true? According to my interpretation, the prophecy defined him as a good man who became cruel, fell from grace, and lost everything. But now he is so different. If he wanted to do evil, he had countless opportunities to act, but he didn't.
Honestly, he has done good more than anything else, and in the end, who are we to judge? We are Sarkaz, hatred is what drives us, and that same hatred motivates us to commit atrocities against our own people, be it the various warlords or the King.
I am not blind, and I do not justify my actions. The blood of my brothers and sisters is on my hands, and if someone so terrible managed to redeem themselves, become a better person, and find peace, then I can only feel envy. However, I will keep my eyes open for any sign of betrayal; my loyalty was still to my king and land.
Then, time passed, and each fulfilled their role. Eventually, night fell, and we found ourselves around campfires again, roasting meat this time. And again, Alden proved to be a man full of surprises, pulling a wardrobe and a pair of beds from his bag, allowing Warfarin to change clothes behind the ruins.
I still thought that bag was a miracle of Arts and would love to have one.
The second surprise was less shocking, enough to jolt the rest of the expedition out of their stupor: an instrument called a ravanahatha, which, according to Alden, he had bought from a merchant friend named Kále, whose people were known for playing such instruments.
Then, gliding the bow across the strings, a melancholy melody echoed through the night, and it wasn't long before other instruments joined in, courtesy of the expedition members.
Drums and flutes mingled with an ancient song sung by everyone, and in that moment, for just an instant, the hatred vanished.
END OF CHAPTER