Golden Sun: The Broken Seal
Chapter 24: The Light in the Darkness
Irony was one of the rare factors of one's existence that had the potential to be humorous, sickening or in some occasions, both at the same time. Pleasant irony might come from something like a snowball fight, where one may miss their target only to hit another equally valid one. Sickening irony could come from studying for one of Kraden's tests, only to find that you'd misheard the topic being studied (something that Garet could relate to). As for the third option…well, such circumstances tended to be extreme, those experiencing them few and far between.
Walking through Goma Cave, Isaac knew that he was experiencing irony in a sense, yet with a splitting headache and a general sense of unease, he couldn't have cared what kind of irony it was. Although concentrating on the here and now was a characteristic of Garet and one that Isaac wasn't particularly keen on following, he had to admit that it did have its uses in keeping his mind off the throbbing in his forehead that his attempts to heal had done nothing to allay, drawing his attention to the more pressing issues. It was funny how even the most uncouth of people could have shards of worth.
"Yet another shard of irony," Isaac thought as he reflected on the first shard of many, that as a Venus adept under a mountain, he should feel at home. At ease. Still, that wasn't the case and having taken up the rear of the trio as they walked through the cave, seeing no reason to change such status, Isaac reflected why.
The first cause of his unease came from the knowledge that a demon lurked in his head, one who was liable to send him into a coma if he had another outburst like the one he'd had outside the cave entrance a few hours ago. Isaac grimaced as he remembered Garet's inability to get along with the Venus djinn, an animosity that Isaac generally considered unfounded. Considering Flint's mental outburst and his unapologetic nature however, Isaac had to admit that Garet probably had the right idea.
The Valean winced as the other two boys burst into fits of laughter up ahead, no doubt due to one of Garet's bad jokes. Isaac wouldn't have minded under normal circumstances, especially considering that Ivan seemed like the type that had experienced little laughter in his life, but with the 'music of the soul' being drastically out of key and cutting through Isaac's forehead like a knife through butter, it was something that the Valean could have done without.
"Guess this proves the saying that silence is golden," mused Isaac bitterly as Garet continued to flog a dead horse. Indeed, silence was something that the teenager was beginning to yearn for, a desire to be free from piercing laughter and djinn that refused to exist in the here and now, lashing out at you if they were brought back to reality.
"And to think there could be more of the flying rodents out there," Isaac thought, remembering the Wise One's words back in Sol Sanctum;
"The djinn have returned," said the Wise One, unconcerned by the rising magma and rocks falling from above. Still, it was hardly surprising. The majesty the boulder emanated was so…grand. It was as if he had the world itself under his command, the very essence of existence at his…well, fingertips if he had any.
"Djinn?" asked Isaac, still unable to get over the fact that there was a flying boulder that was simultaneously talking and holding back an eruption. Even the shock of Felix's return and Jenna's kidnapping had already faded.
"Elemental spirits, each in tune with one of the four elements," the Wise One answered, his, no, its deep voice reverberating across the chamber, the earth itself seemingly moving. "Once again, they have returned to help mankind."
Isaac actually did snort this time, the sound only going unnoticed by it coinciding with another bout of laughter from Garet and Ivan-something about Garet somehow convincing Kay that Aaron had actually been responsible for crushing her flowers and thus worming out of another verbal beratement session. In truth, Isaac experienced a flicker of humor in memory of the experience, but it was overshadowed by a different type.
"The djinn have returned to help mankind?" Isaac wondered. "Either their method is some twisted of self improvement or the Wise One is beginning to lose his marbles." While Isaac wouldn't have been surprised if it was the second case, not sure how much confidence he could give a cryptic boulder that sent young boys after thieves and murderers in order to prevent alchemy's return, the Venus adept didn't dwell on it, unease once again trickling back into his being.
It was memories of Sol Sanctum that prompted such a return; looking at the passages of the cave, Isaac could not help but appreciate the similarities, how for a route that was the only one left that led through the mountain range apart from the now sealed Goma Pass, it was…well, it was beautiful really. Smooth walls that glistened in the flickering light due to a high moisture content (at least based on the texture when Isaac had felt it), a crystal clear stream that flowed calmly by the path… It was like Sol Sanctum all over again.
And that was what made Isaac uneasy. Sol Sanctum had been an artificial structure built in the days of the Golden Age of Man, a relic of the past that had been designed to withstand the slow decay of time. Based on his memories of Sol's temple, its white marble walls, glowing torches, violet tiles and entire chambers dedicated to the sun and moon, Isaac could appreciate that Sol Sanctum had represented perfection, a type of eloquence that had been lost forever as part of the sacrifice made in the sealing of alchemy, thus saving the world from destruction." So why should Goma Cave get the same treatment?" Isaac wondered, so wrapped up in his pondering that the latest bout of laughter from his fellow adepts washed over him completely. "Walls that show no sign of erosion, a pathway that's completely smooth, a stream that runs parallel to it… Either this cave is immune to the effects of time or…" Isaac trailed off. With everything that had happened in recent times, he didn't want to consider that possibility.
Unfortunately, reality wasn't making it easy for him, given what was casting the light throughout the passage, what was seemingly evident to Isaac alone…
Yet even that wasn't the main issue which was making the Valean uneasy, unease having begun as soon as the adepts had entered the cave, unease that had been at the back of Isaac's mind even before he'd noticed the apparent maintenance of the tunnel. Overall, it was a sense of unease that stood in contrast to everything that Sol Sanctum had made Isaac feel, a feeling of wrongness that permeated the cave's stone, the very roots of the mountain. While Sol Sanctum had drawn Isaac into its depths, the result often being visions of some kind, everything about Goma Range made Isaac want to leave immediately, to put as much distance between himself and the mountain range.
"But why though?" the adept wondered, knowing that he'd asked himself that question before and would probably do so again. Isaac knew that a connection with rock wasn't as strange as one might think; adepts were often attuned with their own element and/or sensitive to its counterpart, Garet's hydrophobia being a perfect example. At least in the 'wrongness' that the stone was seeped in, Isaac could forgive Garet and Ivan for being ignorant, given their elements of fire and wind respectively. Still, that didn't place the teenager any closer to finding the answer to the question, and all things considered, he wasn't sure if he wanted to. The feeling was eerily familiar… the same feeling that Isaac had when he faced the zombies…
"Isaac, did you here me?"
Isaac blinked a few times, unsure as to where the question had come from. Regaining his bearings, he guessed that it was Ivan who had asked it, concern etched on his features. After all, considering that Garet was looking down at a chasm, the Mars adept was hardly the likely-…
"Isaac?"
"Hmm?" the Venus adept responded, turning to face Ivan.
"I asked if you were alright," Ivan said, slightly more forceful than before, but still with a timid tone overall. "You haven't said anything since we entered the cave."
"And whose fault is that?" Isaac wondered bitterly, remembering Flint's mental backlash.
"No, nothing's wrong," the Valean lied. "Should there be?"
Ivan shrugged. "Not really. You were just unusually quiet."
If Isaac really had been alright, he would have pointed out that it was rather hypocritical of Ivan to point out such things, not to mention that silence was pretty much a given when it came to his interaction. Still, considering that he wasn't alright, the Valean put on a fake smile.
"I'm fine, don't worry," he murmured. He looked at his other friend, "What's up with you Garet?" Isaac asked, noticing how tense the Mars adept seemed as he stared down at the abyss in front of him.
No answer.
"Garet?" asked Isaac, a little more forcibly.
Slowly but surely, Garet turned away from the chasm, looking at his fellow adepts with fake calm. "Nothing," he half whispered. "Which way should we go?"
Isaac was caught off guard, not only from the surprise at seeing Garet so unsettled but due to only just realizing that they'd approached a T junction, the chasm lying straight ahead with a choice of heading left or right.
"Right," said Isaac, wanting to be removed from the unease that resulted from Garet being uneasy himself. After all, for Garet to be unsettled about anything would have to be a first. With a nod, Garet strode off, not noticing that his fellow adepts stood and watched.
"What's up with him?" Ivan asked Isaac. "He was fine until we reached the chasm."
"Why are you asking me?" Isaac murmured, walking after Garet. "You're the one who can read minds.
"What!?" Ivan exclaimed. "I promised not to do that back in Vault, I'm not about to-…"
"I was being sarcastic."
Ivan fell silent, causing Isaac to smirk despite the wrongness that permeated the cave. The Kalayan servant may have become more sociable since they'd first met him in Vault, but he still had a long way to go, both in social skills and, based on what he was seemingly only aware of, observational skills…
"Not that I can talk," Isaac mused, reflecting on his inadequacies in hiding his emotions. He looked back at Ivan. "Maybe it's time to cut to the chase…"
"Ivan, how much do you know about Goma Range?"
The Jupiter adept raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"
"You've passed through Goma Pass before right?" Isaac asked, not knowing nor caring whether Garet was aware that he was being left out of the conversation. "You must have heard some tales of the region's history."
Ivan shrugged uneasily. "Not much. I was never one to pester Master Hammet. After all, I-…"
"Ivan, answer me this," growled Isaac, causing the servant to recoil and even Garet to stop his brisk stride and glance back. "Reassure me that I'm not going insane."
"Um, sure…" said the Jupiter adept slowly, wondering if it wasn't a case of "going insane" but a case of "gone insane," given the almost fanatical look in Isaac's eyes.
"This place, if it was ever inhabited, would have been abandoned for thousands of years, the recent collapse of Goma Pass being testament to this.
"Your point being?" Garet asked slowly, making it clear that he wanted to keep moving. Isaac turned to face him, his sky blue eyes blazing.
"My point, Garet, a point that I'm the only one to have noticed, is that a series of tunnels should not feature lit torches."
Light…
Light had been brought to her realm, much against her will.
No-one defied her will. No-one.
Justice would be dispensed on the one who had brought such fire, not to mention those who dwelt in its baleful glow.
The adept of earth, the one who could sense her power…
The adept of fire, who could sense his kindred spirit…
The adept of wind, who had begun to delve into friendship…
The lone wanderer, the one who knew of her existence…
Death, slow and final, would greet them all in the end.
"Root?"
"Hmm?"
"What are you doing exactly?"
Root sighed, gripping his psy staff and began toying with the idea of incinerating Tinker where he stood, a fantasy that had popped into his head many times before and without a doubt, would do so again. "Was it written into the books of fate that elder brothers be slaves to their younger ones?" he wondered, beginning to spin his staff, giving him something to do rather than actually use it. "Or did the cosmic order go out of whack at some point? After all, I-…"
"Well?"
Root's shoulders sagged, turning to face his younger brother. A vein throbbing in his temple, Root could see that Tinker definitely matched the younger sibling stereotype. Blue robes rather than the more venerable purple his kind wore, bright, sparkly yellow eyes with spirit that should have faded away by now, clutching his blunderbuss like…well, like someone who actually used such a weapon in this day and age.
"Tinker, don't you have some rocks to shoot at or something?" Root asked, glad of the elevation that the ledge he was standing on gave him.
"Nah, not really," the little runt replied, grinning like a delusional twat. "You told me to save ammo, remember?"
"Yes, I do remember," Root snarled, recalling how Tinker had gone wild against a pack of dirges a few days ago, wasting valuable ammunition on the most minor threat that the cave system could provide. "I took me days to craft enough shrapnel to replace it."
Tinker grinned sheepishly, twirling the firearm around as if to imitate his elder brother's earlier actions. Scowling, Root turned back to his task, hoping that the dweeb behind him wasn't going to spurt out any more nonsense. It was a long shot, but Root had learnt to hold onto hope.
"Right, like the hope that Goma Cave would never again be disturbed by man?" he wondered bitterly, concentrating on the cave face that he'd been examining for the last few hours, or more accurately, what was left of it.
It had come as a shock to both of the brothers that an entire section of cliff wall could collapse just like that. When they'd first heard the sound, even Root had jumped, clutching his psy staff in a manner that he usually reserved for fights with vermin. Tinker had wanted to go home there and then, but Root, being made of sterner stuff, insisted that they check it out.
The source was…surprising, to say the least. A huge gaping hole had opened up in the cave walls, courtesy of an entire section of cliff collapsing to block one of the passes through the Goma Range. At first he couldn't believe it, unable to comprehend that the Goma Range, the place where he had been born and where he knew he would die could give way like that. True, he'd seen some horrific acts in his time, virtually all of them due to vermin or in the rare occasion, the handiwork of the Haunting Queen, but somehow, none of them in his thirty-three years of life compared to this. Still, looking out into the outside world, land where Sol cast his benevolent glow, the source could not be mistaken…
Humans.
True, Root couldn't be exactly sure, what with being situated hundreds of meters above the ground, but there was no mistaking the physique of the six individuals who were traveling down below, individuals that made him want to jump down and take vengeance three thousand years overdue.
"Probably vengeance a few hours overdue also," Tinker thought bitterly, gazing back at the scar in the cave wall as his psy staff made a humming sound. "What with the brutality their kind is capable of on the living, it's hardly a surprise that they'd do the same to the natural world."
Feeling older than he really was, Root slowly turned back to his twenty-eight year old brother, still two years from adulthood.
"Venus psynergy," Root declared, showing the orb on the tip of his staff as proof, the yellow glow evident. "Seems that there's still adepts around in mankind."
"Isn't that impossible?" Tinker asked.
Root shrugged. "Hell if I know." He jumped down off the ledge, facing his sibling. "Hell if I care either."
As naive as Tinker could be, he could appreciate that his brother was not in the mood to discuss the issue any further. After all, one didn't slump down against a ledge and pulling out some mushrooms, uncaring of the dirt that that his purple robes were gathering. There were times when Tinker accused his brother of being a pessimist, but considering what had transpired, he could understand.
"Such is our lot I suppose," Tinker thought, lying down against the adjacent cave wall. "Such is the life of a gnome."
Gnomes...a race that was a mystery to even themselves. A race that both Root, with his earth brown skin and amber eyes and Tinker with his orange skin and yellow eyes belonged to. A race that bordered on extinction…
Despite being a long lived race, reaching adulthood at the age of thirty and having a maximum lifespan of around 150 years, much of gnomish history had faded into the currents of time, never to be retrieved. It was believed that the diminutive humanoids had originated in the Goma Range and/or the lands around it, as evidenced by cave paintings in the depths of the mountain range, a trait in habitation that had never been broken.
"It shows too…" thought Root bitterly, pulling out his own mushrooms. The fungi crumpled in his hands as he twisted it harder than was necessary, reflecting how far his race had fallen since they were unified under the leadership of Goma the Great, the mountain range bearing his name. Or the other way round. Historical accounts varied on the subject.
Root snorted as he remembered such debates, half of them ending with the debaters lunging at each others throats. "It must be in our blood," the midget reflected, remembering how, at least according to what accounted for historians these days, the gnomes had been caught up in internal conflict before, a civil war that heralded their emergence into the Third Age. With-…
"Hey Root, you hear that?" Tinker asked, rising to his feet and clutching his blunderbuss.
"Hmm?" Root asked, still mulling over gnome history. From what he remembered, the Third Age had been one of the ascension of man, an ascension that gnomish kind could either reap the benefits of or continue their traditional isolation.
"Root?" asked the gnome's brother, this time a bit more forcefully.
Tinker's sibling remained silent, his mind only operating in the melodrama department. In the end the isolationists had lost out, although had been granted a compromise that while gnomish civilization would open itself up to trade, any other form of contact with man or any other species for that matter would be limited.
"And it worked too," Root thought sadly, remembering how the so-called 'Golden Age of Man' could be applied to gnomes as well. "At least it worked right up to-…"
"Root!"
"What!?" Root asked, glaring at his younger brother.
"Listen," whispered Tinker, shifting his eyes towards the passage that would take them to the southern entrance. Following suit, Root could hear what had caught his brother's attention…
Footsteps.
Slowly rising to his feet and taking his psy staff with him, Root did a quick calculation-about half a second between each footfall. Too slow for a vermin, or even a member of his fellow species. That only left one possibility, a possibility that until recently, Root would have considered impossible…
A human.
"Tinker, take cover," Root whispered, gesturing his neck to a nearby rock. Without protest his brother obliged, arming his blunderbuss.
"Don't bother," Root murmured, seeing such preparations.
"What?" Tinker asked indignantly.
"I want to take the honors for myself," Root whispered, warming up his psy staff, appreciating the feeling of warmth in his hands.
"Vengeance three-thousand years overdue should be done by a gnomish weapon after all."
Psynergy…
It was building up in her realm, driven by righteous hatred. After all, when usurpers and murders entered your kingdom, it was to be expected. Such emotions were appropriate in these circumstances.
Not to mention that said psynergy was traceable also.
Perfect.
It was undeniable that language changed with the times. Such changes could be found everyday, with members of an older generation sometimes having trouble communicating with those of younger ones, using terms and phrases that were no longer "with it."
Yet some terms did remain, Isaac knowing that "déjà vu" was one of them. Such a word was not of the common language of course, a language which, according to Kraden, all of Weyard's sentient creatures shared. If there ever were dialects limited to a particular group or species, they'd long since faded. For all Isaac knew, déjà vu could have been uttered by beret wearing, wine drinking frogs or something.
Yet déjà vu, unlike his experiences outside Goma Cave, was not the word he would use to describe his situation right now. With Ivan looking around in embarrassed perplexion and Garet simply looking uneasy, another word had come to Isaac's mind, a word that described how he was feeling…
Schadenfreude-the feeling of elation that comes from the suffering of others.
Isaac knew that such a feeling was not something he should embrace and was glad that it didn't conform one hundred percent to the feeling of…well, something like pride, but with a snideness that he was experiencing. For what felt like the past five minutes, ever since he had mentioned the lit torches, Ivan had been looking up and down the stone passages, only having just realized that the torches were lit. As for Garet…well, Isaac wasn't sure. He simply stood against the wall, his slant making it clear that he wanted to move on.
With Isaac the only one fully in control of himself, the only one who had noticed the torches lit and thus embarrassing his friends in this revelation, the Venus adept had schadenfreude in buckets.
"This makes no sense," Ivan said eventually, repeating himself for the fifth time. "How could I have not noticed these torches?"
"Search me," Isaac murmured, although had an idea as to the answer. Ivan was the type of person who, from what he could tell in Vault, the type of person who kept in his own world, content to read the minds of people without interacting with them. It was perhaps fitting in a way that when he engaged in conversation the rest of the world would be shut off from him. That was life was like for a dreamer.
"Anyway, that's not really the issue here," Isaac continued. "What is the issue is that we're in an abandoned cave with lit torches." He smiled faintly. "Certainly raises some interesting possibilities."
"Hardly," Garet murmured, his fellow adepts turning to him in surprise. "Anyone could have come down here and lit them."
Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Garet, the entrance to the tunnel was blocked."
"So? They could have sealed it themselves."
Ivan stepped forward. "Perhaps, but that doesn't explain why someone would take the time and effort to light every single torch available."
Garet looked around uneasily, followed suit by his friends. Sure enough, every single torch was lit in the hallway, half of them unnecessarily. If someone had gone down these passages and needed illumination, he or she had gone overboard. Only one out of every three torches would have to be lit to provide sufficient illumination, perhaps even less.
"So someone got a little flame happy," said Garet hastily. "Besides, what does it matter? The torches are going out anyway."
Isaac and Ivan turned to follow his gaze, seeing that Garet was partly right. However, considering that the torches were going out one at a time from both ends of the passageway, "snuffed" out would have been a better term.
"What's happening?" Ivan whispered, clutching his staff.
Isaac remained quiet, not knowing the answer. All he knew was that the feeling of wrongness was growing in intensity, that the fading light was not natural, the light fading from all sides…
…that the encroaching darkness was mere prelude as to what was coming…
Los was uneasy.
It was a feeling that he'd become used to over the last few weeks, a feeling that had begun when the seal on alchemy had been broken. After all, when the world was threatened with the return of such a force, with a return to conflict at best and worldwide destruction at worst (or even worse things…), to be uneasy was pretty much a given. Considering that Kite's death, a form of alliance with adepts, the freaky appearance of Nalu and the information he provided, Los was surprised that he hadn't descended into hysteria.
Goma Cave was no exception to this trend, Los' unease having increased even further. After all, one did not walk into an abandoned series of tunnels that housed the ruins of gnomish civilization and expect torches to be lit throughout the cave system, anymore than the faint trace of psynergetic residue in the air.
"What the hell happened here?" the traveler wondered, his right hand clutching the hilt of one of his shortswords. "I'm walking through the ruins of an ancient civilization. People don't just light torches in order to welcome travelers."
Or perhaps they did, considering it was at this point that a fireball shot down the tunnel, Los diving to one side, taking cover behind a rock.
"I knew I should have taken the right path," Los thought, remembering his choice to turn left when he'd approached the T junction. "Still, I knew the risks of traveling through here, or at least remembered them when facing the landslide." He glanced up the passageway, the light providing ample illumination to see two diminutive figures, each of them hiding behind a rock.
"Oh hell…"
"Not very sporting to fire on an unarmed opponent," Los called out, toying with the idea of drawing his pistol. He decided against it-there were only two shots left, having wasted the first on Nalu. There was no point in wasting them on tunnel dwellers.
"What do you know of fair play?" a voice shouted, sounding fairly deep, yet different to that of a human. "Why are you even in these tunnels?"
"I dunno, the light show looked inviting," Los called back, deciding it was best to maintain a degree of confidence. "Lit torches and all, I thought that-…"
"We'd never do a light show for the likes of you!" came a different voice, slightly lighter than the first, but still similar. "What makes you think you have the right to-…"
"Had to take a detour," Los murmured, remembering the landslide at Goma Pass. "I was hoping that I could gain passage through here instead." He leaned slightly out towards the passage. "Am I allowed to?"
A shot from what sounded like a blunderbuss was the only response.
"I'll take that as a no…" Los thought, rising to his feet and walking down the passage.
"Stop right there!" came one of the voices. "Come any closer and we'll shoot!"
"I beg to differ," the human said, coming within sight of the gnomes. "Not only have you failed to hit me so far, but you're both too trigger happy for your own good to threaten people." He came within sight of the two gnomes, breaking out into a smile.
"What are you smiling at?" snarled the one with the psy staff, still pointing it in Los' direction. The other was busy shoving shrapnel into his blunderbuss as if his life depended on it. "Can't really blame him I guess," Los thought before turning to face the psy staff, purple robed one.
"Nothing really. It's just…well, this is a rather unique experience," Los smiled, actually being genuine. "After all, sealing off Goma Range for 2,700 years doesn't really leave many chances for interaction.
"2,600 years actually," replied the head gnome, slightly lowering his staff. His features softened slightly. "And no, it doesn't."
"Root…you do realize that you're talking to a human here aren't you?" the blue robed gnome asked cautiously, bewilderment showing in his eyes. "You know, a member of the race that-…"
"That sent gnome civilization crashing down at the end of the Third Age," Los interrupted, his smile now due to amusement at the perplexion showing on both gnomes' features.
"You…know of our history?" the one apparently named Root asked, lowering his psy staff. Things were moving too quickly for him, or too slowly for that matter. He'd expected at least one corpse on their hands by now.
Los shrugged. "A bit. I remember how it was an invasion of the Kingdom of Vault in 3A- 2001 that ruined your civilization, slaughtering Queen E'tara and most of your population with her, thus ending your royal line and the lives of many others." His features softened. "Alchemy was a curse upon my kind. But that still doesn't excuse what we did."
"Of course, it would never have happened at all if that blonde bitch hadn't led her merry gang through the mountains…"
"No, it doesn't…" said Root slowly. He gazed up at the man in front of him. "Ever since that dark day, we gnomes have been a scattered people, having to deal with infestations of vermin, keeping to the upper kingdom and letting them take the bottom..." He sighed. "Hardly an ideal life. Still, we've pulled through."
An uneasy silence descended upon the three humanoids gathered, man and gnome for once not at each other's throats. It was to be expected in a sense, considering that alchemy had been sealed long ago, preventing humanity from destroying itself in conflict driven by greed and lust for power. Yet even so, that didn't quite explain why Root was so forgiving. Perhaps it was part of the man's charm, knowing that he didn't stand a chance against two armed gnomes. After all, a blunderbuss that had lasted since the day of the Vault invasion and one of the few remaining psy staffs in gnomish civilization certainly presented a formidable defense…
"How do you know so much about us?" Root asked eventually. "From what I understood, human civilization is a mere shadow of what it once was. How were you-…"
"I have my ways," Los interrupted. "I've heard stories, some of them factual, some of them mere legend." He glanced around. "Still, factual or not, nothing of what I've read accounts for the light show you have here." He turned back to face them. "For a shattered civilization, you certainly have a lot of torches, especially since-…"
"We didn't light them."
Los glanced down at the blunderbuss armed gnome, wondering how he'd managed to retrieve such a weapon, considering that the secrets of blackpowder based weaponry having somewhat fortunately been lost long ago. It had probably retained from a corpse of one of the Vault soldiers, passed down through the generations. However, such questions were put on the backburner.
"You didn't light them?" Los asked slowly, his first assumption melting away. "You mean a vermin did it?"
"I doubt it," Root murmured. "The torches haven't been lit in millennia, given how darkness allows us to slip by unnoticed from vermin and…" He trailed off, remaining silent for a few seconds. "Well, from other things. Regardless, they suddenly flickered on about two weeks ago."
"Two weeks ago?" Los wondered. "That would roughly coincide with the breaking of alchemy's seal. Yet what could have done such a thing?"
"I'm wondering the same thing myself."
Three pairs of eyes glanced around in surprise, two of the three in fear also. "No…it can't be…" Root whispered.
"Hmm?" Los asked. "What's the problem? Did one of your voices break or something?"
"Do not mistake the master for the servant you pathetic worm!"
Los spun around again, fear beginning to creep into his soul. "Who…who's there?"
Unearthly laughter echoed throughout the passageway. "Oh I think you know. Haven't the traitors informed you as to my existence? Haven't your precious scrolls enlightened you as to the nastier aspects of your species? Regicide is a common trait in human history after all."
Los remained quiet, slowly drawing out his pistol. This was for two reasons. The first was that…well, something was in their midst. Female by the sound of the voice, and a powerful one at that, but certainly not natural.
The second was that, one by one, the light of the torches was being snuffed out, darkness slowly creeping up the passageways.
"The living cling to light, do they not?" the voice sneered. "Even with my brethren living in darkness, they have always yearned for it. After all, Goma Range used to be a place of beauty, a place where the living enjoyed fulfilling lives."
"Root…I think that we should get out of here…" whimpered Tinker.
"It's a bit late for that don't you think?" Root murmured, clutching his staff like a lifeline. Unlike Tinker, he could see exactly what was coming, what was inevitable…the snuffing out of the flames was mere herald.
"My subject is correct," the voice gloated. "You cannot avoid death any more than your own shadow. I would know…"
"You seem to know a lot of things?" said Los, trying to sound braver than he felt. "Care to explain how?"
"I do not grant the demands of creation's filth!" the voice thundered. "Or gnomes who forget where their loyalties lie."
"What?" Root asked. "But we haven't done anything wrong, why would you-…"
"You have associated the enemy of our people. Such a crime warrants the punishment that only your queen can administer."
"Like the rest of your so-called punishments over the millennia?" Root snarled.
"Of course. Have you forgotten our history? Did you not view the handiwork of a Venus adept a few hours ago, the landslide being testament to the destruction that comes hand in hand with man?"
"Venus adept? Landslide" Los wondered. His forehead creased. "So it was Saturos's band that was responsible for it…" He shook the thoughts away. He had far more pressing issues to deal with, considering that it was at this point that all of the torches had been snuffed out.
"Who the hell are you?" Los snarled, gazing around in the darkness.
"I?" the voice asked, this time with a discernable source. "I am the monument to all your sins, a tribute to the darker recesses of your being, a reminder that death is not necessary the end of all things."
Three pairs of eyes turned to the source. Bands of sweat glistened on each forehead at the figure before them, not to mention the various skeletal figures behind her, some human some gnome, all having risen from their earthly slumber, all with a hatred of all life.
"This is impossible," Los whispered, seeing that the figures were closing in from both sides.
"Not impossible. Inevitable. Just as inevitable as the fading of the light that the fire spirit brought two weeks ago." The ethereal being laughed. "Such is the cruelty of existence. All things fade in time. It's just a question of when."
"But this makes no sense!" Los exclaimed. "You died when Vault's soldiers invaded, your body hacked into ribbons."
The ghost of the past smiled. "Hell had no vacancies I'm afraid." The smile faded. "Unlike you three however…"
Neither man nor gnome somehow doubted that. After all, when presented with the manifestation of your nightmares, a being that you believed was just a myth, acceptance, when it finally arrived, worked swiftly.
Or maybe it was just that the ghost of E'tara, deceased queen of the gnomes and their last monarch, the one who haunted the darkest recesses of Goma Range and dispensed 'justice,' had that effect on people...
A/N
I was beginning to wonder if this would be updated myself. That's what comes from school stuff, pondering at least three other possible chapter titles, raking through developed lore and selecting what to include and what not to and how to work it into readable narrative and prevent the temptation to simply copy the King of the Dead scene from RotK. Hopefully I pulled it off, although there were some references to Halo 2 and Blade Runner in this chapter. Go figure.
I did say that this chapter was going to give me problems didn't I?
Anyway, as for the stuff that was featured…
-I think it's safe to assume that if Goma Cave was ever inhabited in the game, its inhabitants had long since gone. So why were there lit torches in the game?
-3A-2001 is an example of a dating system I developed awhile ago. Logically, saying that "x occurred in the y year of the z age" can get a bit clunky. As such, I developed a system that makes easier reading and writing. You can probably tell what it means without my explanation but just in case;
First Digit: Corresponds to age number.
A: Age
0000: The actual year of the age. At least, there will be at least two digits for a date (e.g. 01 is the lowest).
So as such, Broken Seal, taking place in the year 3000 of the Fourth Age, would be written as 4A-3000
Issue Responses
Another decision I made awhile ago was to include " issue responses"-kinda like review responses within a fic, although answering questions that others may be wondering about. I'll continue to send review replies via the PM system, but at the start/end of each chapter (varies depending on response length and/or chapter ending, I'll answer questions that take on a sort of' universal meaning.'
Interestingly enough, there isn't that many. Maybe these author notes are paying off.
-This is probably obvious, but it was Los by Felix's house, not Felix himself.
-Iblis's cape is/was not actually drenched in blood, it was simply dyed that color.
-I understand that some fics which deal with Jenna losing her family have her living with her grandparents or something and for all I know, this may be true. I never really explored Vale that much in the initial stages of the game and have never done so since-the early stages of GS1 progress rather slowly after all. Still, that doesn't exclude the possibility that Jenna's grandparents were lurking around somewhere.
Still, even if they do exist, it's a change that I'd like to keep. The idea of Jenna losing her whole family (seemingly) rather than just her immediate family is more appealing to me. No, I don't really imagine Jenna as a Mary Sue, but it just seems more…intense or something. The inclusion of other relatives would water down the feelings of loss and such and would reduce the basis of hatred she had/has towards Felix.
So yeah. Jenna, for all she knew, lost her entire family on the night of the storm in this fic.
-Many of the early chapters were written using Microsoft WordPad rather than Word, the former lacking a spell-check. As such, my lack of spelling ability shows in those early chapters. Apologies for any grammar nuts out there.
-Actually my exclusion of the Wise One casting psynergy on the Mars Star was an error on my part. Still, like Jenna's family, it's an error I intend to keep. Let's face it, if the Wise One did visibly cast psynergy on the Mars Star, wouldn't Isaac wonder why?
-I probably go a bit overboard with Garet at times. There's a fine line between simplicity and stupidity after all.
-I think it's reasonable to assume that Felix had training over the three years that he was in Prox, both in psynergy and martial prowess. I've certainly tried to convey it, showing him as a whiny bookworm in flashbacks and much 'tougher' and perhaps cold hearted in the present.
As such, Felix is actually more powerful than Isaac, Garet or Jenna at this stage, his training having been more intense. I've tried to show this with his personality also-although he has some moral qualms over certain issues, I've tried to convey him as a bit of an amoral bastard at times, Saturos and Menardi having rubbed off on him. Exactly how this develops…well, time will tell.
-I think it's become obvious by now, but I'll declare it once and for all that I'm NOT making declarations on any pairings. Hints is all I'm giving, and cryptic ones at that. The only thing I can guarantee is that unless I have a switch of sexual preferences, there won't be slash, yaoi, yuri, etc. of any kind.
Anyway, that's it. I may have missed some points but hopefully not too many.
As for future updates…well, don't expect too many, what with academic stuff, namely the end of secondary school looming down on me. However, I'll still be working on this fic in one way or another, if only in drafting (I'm currently up to Xian). Unless my computer stuffs up, I can promise that I'm working on this unless a tag says otherwise.
Yarg!