74

--Enclave--

“There is, isn’t there, for you have gone to the Catacombs and seen the writing on the walls — quite literally, I imagine.”

Narrowing her eyes, Guin confirmed, “I did.”

“And what did it mean?”

Guin bit her lip recalling bits of what she had seen — but it was so overlayed with her dreams of the golden lights, it was hard to separate them.

So, she settled on a different conversation: “I saw similar carvings throughout the Catacombs,” she said, thinking back on the walls of the golden hall whose carvings were similar, if not their reaction to her touch. “In these kinds of carvings, who is the man holding the hammer marked with the compass of the Tenmath?” Pausing, she continued to ask, “Is the Tenmath ‘ancient culture’?”

“The Tenmath are remnants of a civilization from about 900 years ago. Following the Tenmath is still done to this day, though not something that is done often; at least by those who have no relation to the Veil,” the Head Scribe told her, then smirked. “Not by that name, at least. There are pockets, here and there, who would still call it that, but others would call it ‘going questing’ or the like. The meaning is different to them. In the Veil, however, the Tenmath aren’t just legend — they are very real. Following their path is a tradition that is alive and well, for, Candidate, the Veil is in need of a ruler. You know the story, do you not?”

“I do,” Guin said. “At least… I’ve heard it.”

“I’ll leave you to your own research. What I can tell you is that the man with the hammer is the icon of ‘The Creator’, the heart of the Compass of the Sun, followers of the Lady of Sun,” the old woman said. “Of course, on those walls, each of the Tenmath has its representations. You needn’t go down there to see them, though. Each library has a section devoted to the ancient cultures. Why is it you ask about that one in particular?”

Guin shook her head. “I don’t really know,” she said. “I was drawn to that one, for some reason. The carvings around it looks happy and joyful — but when I touched the carvings on the wall, they began to glow…”

“So,” the Head Scribe’s eyes began to burn with an unsettling glow, and Guin leaned back at the smile that spread across her face. “You are a catalyst, afterall. The Lady shall be pleased indeed.”

“What?”

“You should be wary, girl,” the old scribe said, leaning back and touching her fingers to each other. “You are our hope, but the Tenmath will seek you out. You are a threat to their gods, to their way of life, more than you are to them — and I do not know how time has changed them. Rumors say that some have abandoned their posts. Rumors say some have gone mad. But if your existence becomes known, surely they will all gather around you. For, should you become the Grand Heart, their world shall come crashing around their ears, whether they wish it to, or not.”

Furrowing her brow, Guin asked, “What does that even mean?”

The Head Scribe’s eyes went out of focus as she murmured, “Peace. Peace at last…”

“Huh?”

“I know who you are, Candidate,” the old woman leaned forward again, hissing over her desk, looking crazed. “I know what you are. And what you aren’t. Find the meaning of the inscriptions — the true meaning — for only you can. Find them — Find them and set us free!”

“Do you… know about… the dreams?” Guin asked, gambling on sounding crazy for the simple reason that this woman sounded even crazier.

But the Head Scribe just smiled. “Seek the Lady, child, for all your answers lie with her.”

“Where do I find her?” Guin demanded to know. She was getting tired of the NPCs in this game going crazy on her at the mention of her candidacy.

“In the light and in the darkness. Under rocks and bark and mountains. Buried deep within the ocean, and high above the sky. Nestled in the roots of trees. In the arms of fathers, at the breasts of mothers,” the old woman cited as if it were a tale from somewhere. “The Lady is everywhere. The Lady is nowhere. In truth, you do not seek the Lady — she seeks you. But, if you do not look for her, it does not matter if she finds you, for you will never see her. So, Candidate,” she said, leaning back in her chair again. “Will you seek her?”

———————-

[Seeking the Lady (Fate Quest)]

Having this Fate Quest active enables you to receive special quests, meet special NPCs, and receive bonuses during spirit-related quests.

You have been marked.

Others with a Fate Quest of the same name can find you in order to exchange information.

Once accepted, this quest cannot be removed, or skipped. (Difficulty: S)>>

———————-

Though her mind was rife with hesitation, Guin answered, “I will.”

If there was even the slightest chance that her dreams had something to do with the game, then this was the only real way that she would be able to find out. At least, it was the only way that she knew of. Of course, as she accepted, it dawned on her: If this was a quest that was connected to her dreams, and her dreams really were connected with the TheirWorld system, then maybe there were other people like her who had experienced these kinds of dreams.

It also occurred to her that if it was connected to being a candidate, then the only other candidate she knew of was Ibraxis. But should I ask him? she wondered, alongside: Could I ask him?

Annoyance with the situation started to build up again.

The Head Scribe simply nodded in her place. “Good,” she said. “Now, go away.” As if she had been possessed, the old woman returned to the state she had been in before Tea had left. “What are you still doing here?” she snapped. “Be on your way!”

Licking her lips, Guin moved to leave — but she decided to turn and say, “You know, you could be nicer about things.”

The old woman raised a single eyebrow at her. Rolling her eyes, Guin just left.

The bell chimed and the door slammed as she left in her huff. She saw Tea jump off to the side as she slapped the creaky sign of the building in her frustration.

The whole thing hed been totally and completely unsatisfying.

“That told me absolutely nothing!” She realized, putting her hands on her hips. “Liorax! What the hell was that about?”

The little fox appeared floating around her. “Why, how should I have the faintest idea?” he mused lazily, which only served to tick her off further. “After all, I am merely a small, meek, little fox from the forest.”

“Gods be damned,” she cursed. “If Ibraxis hadn’t suddenly decided to PK me, I might have had the chance to ask you the questions when we were there, so I would have had more to offer in exchange for answers!”

“That’s nothing that can be helped now, Candidate,” the fox drawled. “Even if you learned nothing, you still learned something.”

Guin glared at him as she paced. “Like what?”

“You mean other than the fact that you have some anger issues you should really work on resolving?” he went as he floated in the air. “Other than the fact you should be more careful about who you choose to trust? You have learned that you appear to have a connection with the Creator.”

“And how does that help me, exactly?” she asked him. “Should I spend hours in a library looking for clues?”

Liorax shrugged. “The Creator is a reasonable man,” he told her with a yawn. “A tragic one, really, because of that kind heart of his, but very reasonable. Perhaps you could find him and ask him about what you want to know.”

Pausing, she asked, “The Creator… is alive? He’s… in the game?”

“G-Guin…?” Tea went, raising a hand. “Who are you talking to? A-Are there ghosts?”

“Of course he is,” Liorax chided. “Where did you get the impression he was dead? No one ever truly dies in Uldarin — especially those we’ve labeled ‘gods’ or ‘heroes’, and he holds both titles. They do have such a title for a reason, you know.”