Chapter 42: A Wicked Witch To Be The First
Sylas-
"I have come far haven't I"
The air was cold in the woods and there was a low hanging fog thick and wet.
"For a long time my friend I have felt like a ship, a ship sailing through the ocean, a ship pushed forward only by the wind, no compass, no vision for this ship was cast in the dark heavy fog of the seas, I can not see."
And yet this wind has pushed me forward since we found that cave that wall those words
"And yet I still wonder….."
"Ahhh, Sylas… we meet again in this place."
"Dormu," Sylas said, voice rough. He cleared his throat.. "What have you to share with me?"
They stood at the base of the mountain at Forever Crest. Tonight was alive with noises of animals in the forest.
"The ash speaks," Dormu rasped. "And yet… I do not understand it.
It tells me things,too many things. None answers. Only whispers.
It whispers that something is wrong, that we are walking a path already worn thin.
It says the world remembers more than we do.
That what we call "now" is only a surface, stretched over something older.
And still, I cannot grasp its meaning. Because I am me. I feel like me.
I wake. I breathe. I remember.
So I wonder if the ash only tells me what I want to hear.
If I am mistaking my own thoughts for truth.
But look…the same ash that i cast in doubt it also shows me this "
She raised a wrinkled hand. Pale skin shimmered under the moonlight. Her tired blue eyes glinted as something formed between her palms,a wet, shapeless blob of water. It sloshed and moved, dripping across her fingertips.
Sylas's eyes widened, a smile breaking across his face at the miracle.
"Is this even possible?" he whispered. "Tell me how."
Dormu was short, plump, long gray hair flowing ragged past her shoulders. A fat black spot sat on her nose. Heavy bags hung beneath her eyes. And yet there was something alive in her face now,something dangerous.
"If you listen to the ash," she said, lips curling, eyes wide, "you begin to see patterns. I do not understand the whole of it, but scraps… whispers of wisdom. We are puppets, Sylas. Puppets to its will."
"Something in the world has changed sylas we have already began to see that, all the events that have happened are no coincidence.
"What of the door on the beach?" Sylas asked, voice low it was a mask. He wouldn't let her see his curiosity, wouldn't let her see how much he cared.
Dormu spun round in a sudden dance , one arm flailing, one foot stomping as she stared wild at the moon. "The gate is beyond us. Beyond anything we can comprehend. It too speaks,but its words are not meant for our ears."
Sylas sighed, straightening his coat. "Well… continue. Make sure the girls are ready. I'll need strong warriors in this pursuit of knowledge." He turned and walked on.
From here, the blackened cold door stood at the beachside. Its surface wet with sea salt, the wind strong with the scent of the ocean. Sylas breathed deep,the smell of the world's wonder.
He walked north along the mountain's edge. Forever Cresth sat at the center of a vast ocean, a lone island, home of the elves. At its heart rose a singular mountain, piercing the skies. Huts and homes clung to its sides, pathways carved from stone, lanterns strung like stars, wooden balconies, clay walls, straw roofs, doors of bark. A civilization thriving at the mountain's skin.
But Sylas dreamed different. He had another vision.
On one sheer face of the mountain, an entire slab had been carved out, tunneling deep. A doorway to something greater.
"Valley Low," he muttered. "That's what I'll name it when I'm done."
From the shadows, a blonde girl appeared, bowing low.
"That's a lovely name," she said softly. "To be expected from someone as exceptional as yourself, Lord Sylas."
"No, no,what did I say, Okonabe? No need for all the pleasantries. I am no lord. The true lord… I hope to meet one day."
She smiled, as she always did. "As wise as ever." she said
Sylas stepped into the tunnel. The sound of hammers striking stone. Sparks, dirt, the grunts of laborers filled the air. The mountain's core was hollowing,braces of steel and mesh held the dome.
This was his pride. His joy. Valley Low.
Dormu waddled in behind, her face glowing with pride. "Look how far we've come, Sylas! Look at what we've built!"
Sylas, as always, kept his mask,few words, hardened face. He trained his followers the same: hide yourself, cast the mask, show nothing. For until one finds their true purpose, life is meaningless.
And maybe… maybe he had found his.
"While only a stepping stone look what we have built i have a dream of a nation that seeks to find true purpose, a nation dedicated to find the knowledge of this world for the first time sylas screamed out found a smile on his face as he raised his arms for all to see he laughed this is only the beginning.
Later, deep beneath Valley Low, he stood in a cold chamber. Jagged walls wet with condensation, sharp to the touch. Droplets dripped in uneven rhythm, echoing. He waited. Watching.
And then,magic.
Dots scratched themselves into the wall. Dots to lines. Lines to patterns. Patterns to images. The gate appeared,the very same from the beach at Forever Crest.
Then words:
Sylas looked at the words his smile fell away for all but a single moment
Dormu smiled from behind him.
Sylas noticed her presents and snapped back into his hardened self.
He spun. "We have much to do, Dormu." He walked out, her quick steps following.
The things that happened here at Forever Crest lined up with things elsewhere,with Magnus, or rather Rosavolt, in the tree-dome. Both would shape the world forever. Both sins.
And without Rosavolt, Dormu would never have cast water. The actions of the burning and the first sin that cast magic back into the world not only affected those of the dome but the world as a whole.
They went deeper still, into another chamber. Shelves lined with glass bottles,animal eyes, jars of blood, dirt, sea water. Strange things. The room smelled of herbs and iron.
A deer laid on the table, bleeding, broken, breaths shallow, life almost gone.
"Watch this," Dormu hissed, a grin splitting her face. "If water was a miracle to you… then this.."
Before Sylas could speak, she cut her palm. Blood splattered,on the deer, the floor, on Sylas's face.
"What are you doing?" he barked, stumbling back, wiping the blood.
The deer convulsed. Its bones cracked, reshaping. Flesh split and knitted. The blood flowed back into its veins. And then,life. It leapt up, tossing the tools aside, galloping out of the chamber renewed.
Sylas staggered, eyes wide, words failing. "How…?"
Dormu cackled, mad with joy. A witch's laugh, sharp .
We are changing sylas this world is changing she laughed louder and louder sinister and ugly
Dormu
The first. The very first...
A wicked witch to be the first.
And they say the ash delivered everlasting life, flowing through the veins of the elves.
Fifty years became nothing more than a passing moment to them.
As long as their bellies were full and their bodies rested, they could live longer than most.
For on that day, the ash cast everlasting life,
and the elves were never the same again.
And even if the scholars did not know the extent of this gift, the bodies of the elves could feel it. Who would not?
For this was a great gift.
While the mind did not understand, the soul did,for now the blood carried everlasting years, and through its touch, even brought what was once dead back to life.
Truly wonderful.
A gift that shone brighter than all the rest.
For what more could one want than life?