"Report," The being on the golden throne said, the back of the throne facing Amon and Val.
Amon let a moment of silence pass between them. He gave a light sigh and began to speak.
"The mission went well, and I have retrieved the sealed artifact," He said as he summoned his inventory, and placed his hand into it and grabbed the artifact out. A sudden breeze swayed the artifact from his hands and took it away; it disappeared without sound.
"Is that all?" The being on the golden throne said.
"No, in fact, there are many more things for me to report." Amon quickly replied.
"Go on."
"I encountered some corruptions during my search for the Artifact. These ones were filled with mouths, eyes, ears and other humanly qualities, though they were quite unstable and radiated a repelling aura." He continued. "On my way upstairs, I found a room with strange markings on the floor," He added.
"Describe," The being on the throne said. The Throne seemed to pulse like a heartbeat in anticipation, as if it knew what Amon was about to say.
"If I am to be completely accurate," Amon began, "seven skeletons gathered around a circle. The circle was carved from dead flesh and the blood of fallen animals.
Three eyes overlapped at its centre, layered one within another, each perceiving a different truth. Six wings fused into a single sigil: three on the right, angelic, white, and pure; three on the left, infernal, dark and grim.
Dots, runes, scars, and markings crawled across its surface; symbols and words beyond comprehension, etched into the ground. Three triangles interlocked, pointing both inward and outward at once.
Around the circle lay blood, dark red, thick, ancient, saturated with sacrifice. It pulsed faintly, as if remembering the lives it had consumed.
The seven skeletons stood veiled, forms obscured, their presence oppressive. Golden crosses hung from their necks. Each radiated a different aspect: seven colours, seven authorities, seven fragments of divinity.
Above them loomed structures like crosses, towering and silent. Upon each cross hung a skeleton, broken and offered, withered by time, and nailed by fate itself.
These were neither sacrifices nor victims in the usual sense. They were something older, more enigmatic, their purpose unresolved, left for another time."
He continued, "I suppose this was a ritual of calling, or a sacrifice for the descent of a god. Though it has failed, it doesn't seem like it was done a long time ago." "I told Val about it, and he mentioned something that had to do with the Endorian Empire…" Amon said.
"Val, it seems the Endorian Empire has begun to unknown acts. I just hope the royal families don't get involved, or else we might have to deal with another wipe out or even the chance of war," the being on the throne said. "Boy you have gotten good Information, keep it up."
"As a reward for completing your tasks I shall provide you with information about the Endorian Empire."
"Three hundred years ago, in what history now calls the Great Hardship, there was a war. That is the polite word for it.
The world was divided then into five great regions, the Southern, Northern, Eastern, Western Worlds, and those lands few dared name. Humanity was already starving, already broken, and only beginning to sense the Great Convergence. Corruptions were stronger in those days. Calamities did not arrive one by one; they overlapped, fed upon each other, and left no time to recover.
War was never meant to come. Not between nations. Not then. We argued. We pleaded. We warned our rulers that humanity could not endure another blade. They did not listen. The Philistine state marched against the Israelite state, and the Southern World was dragged into a conflict with the Northern World, our so-called common enemy.
On the final day, we believed we had survived. Victory stood before us, fragile but real. Then the Endorian Empire turned. Whether it was betrayal, desperation, or foresight, history chose its word and moved on.
The Western World rejected them. They tried to return. Too late. Too exposed.
The royal families were furious. Fear dressed itself as justice. Orders were given that were never written down. By the time the dust settled, the Endorian Empire no longer existed. Its cities erased. Its bloodlines drowned in blood. Its name reduced to a warning spoken in low voices. Because of the incident, the war between the philistines and Israelites were suspended immediately." The being revealed
"That is the memory permitted to us. The truth is sealed with those who perished." The being added, a ting of guilt in his tone.
"Though," it continued in a deep, low, authoritative tone, "I trust that you will be able to uncover even the truths that have long been sealed and lost."
Mysteries buried with the dead?
What did it mean by that? That is the memory permitted to them. Did that mean they had taken an oath, one that forbade them from speaking the truth? If so, why speak now? Did this realm grant them freedom of speech, or had the oath itself weakened with time?
Was the Endorian Empire truly wiped out?
Questions flooded Amon's mind as he tried to discern the meaning behind the being's words. Other fragments surfaced as well. Who were the Philistines? Who were the Israelites, and why had they waged war against themselves? Was it manipulation from the Northern World?
"Urgh," he murmured quietly. "This is what happens when you seclude your son and only give him fragments of history."
His expression dulled, eyes heavy with fatigue. Too many questions, none answered.
A faint chime echoed in his mind. A quest notification, most likely. Amon ignored it for now. There were more important things to process.
"Well, done," the being said, its tone carrying measured praise. "Although this was your first task, you have performed exceedingly well."
"Dismissed," it commanded.
The world around Amon, began to blur intensively, the light he saw began to dim, and the clusters of stars and constellations vanished. The veil could not be seen anymore, but neither the back of the beings, or the thrones could be seen. Even the black circular platforms began to dissolve and dissipate, scattering like milk spilled on floor. The space around him melted, and he was no longer there.
| Outside, The Temple |
Amon and Val stood together outside the temple. The courtyard had thinned, most people already gone. Ministers and officials had departed first, leaving behind the Awakeners and the poor, those who continued their searches for coin or lingered in quiet, begging rituals.
The atmosphere had grown damp, the air heavier against the skin. The sun was already sinking, its light fading as evening settled in. Night approached, unhurried and inevitable. The day had come to an end.
"You have done well today, rest." Val said, with a smile on his face.
"Thank you," Amon replied, allowing himself a small smile.
Following that, Val snapped his fingers with meticulous rhythm. The space around him warped violently, folding in on itself before consuming him. He vanished without a sound, leaving behind only the faint rustle of leaves.
Amon stood alone in the courtyard, gazing toward an unknowable future. He waited until every awakener had departed, until night descended in quiet splendour.
"It's time to go home," he muttered.
At once, a massive white door rose before him, a portal wreathed in drifting pale smoke that seeped from its frame. The air was drawn toward it, space itself warping, shattering, and reassembling into indefinite fragments of reality. He stepped forward, and the portal absorbed him completely.
He emerged into an open field, the hem of his robe brushing softly against the grass, producing a faint hum. The sun shone in full brilliance, its light so intense that to stare at it for too long felt as though the mind itself might be blinded. Birds whistled in careful rhythm, their song settling calm into the air.
"Home," Amon said, allowing himself a rare, bright smile.