Chapter 99: Chapter 103: The Tomb of the Naless King
The evening bells rang three tis, and before the third toll, Fenna had already arrived at the cathedral.
The old bishop Valentin had been waiting there, a highly respected elder draped in a black cleric’s robe, silently standing in prayer before the statue of the Storm Goddess Gomona. Hearing soone enter the sanctuary, he didn’t turn around, knowing it was Fenna.
“Fenna the Judge,” Valentin said gravely, “The Storm Cathedral has issued an order to summon the Listener.”
“The Storm Cathedral itself?” Fenna exclaid in surprise, quickly stepping in front of the statue, bathing herself in the bright glow of the lamps. “Can it be that they’ve found new anomalies or ons?”
“If it were rely new anomalies or ons, the bells would not have rung three tis,” Valentin shook his head. “It is the Tomb Guardian from the ‘Crypt’ who has sent the ssage directly, stating that there is so activity with the body of the unnad king. Although it’s still unclear what ssage He intends to convey, it seems… the existing list of nas is undergoing changes.”
As he spoke, the old bishop turned his head and quietly looked into Fenna’s eyes.
“This ti we need to send a Listener into the inner parts of the Crypt, to receive intelligence directly from the body of the unnad king. Currently, the rotation falls to the Deep Sea Church, and the Listener will be selected from the followers of the Storm Goddess— the specific individual has not yet been determined, both you and I are on the list of candidates.”
Fenna composed herself and calmly asked, “When do we depart?”
“Now,” Valentin nodded and gestured for Fenna to follow. He walked towards the back of the goddess’s statue, where a door embellished with many Holy Symbols was already open, revealing a long and profound corridor beyond. “The Spiritual Energy channel is ready.”
Fenna bowed to the statue of Gomona, then turned and followed the old bishop’s footsteps.
They passed through that door, and the long corridor, until two devout Believers reached the deepest part of the ancient church—a special chamber located at the end of the corridor.
This was a small room, unlike the cent and brick structure of the main church, this diminutive chamber was constructed entirely of stone. The gray, irregular stones fitted tightly together to form the walls and roof of the room. In the center of the room was a recessed fire pit where flas crackled and burnt vigorously—but no fuel could be seen at the base of the flas, as if they were conjured from the air.
Aside from the central fla, there was no furniture in the entire chamber, only the continuous, faint sound of flowing water coming from nowhere in particular. Every wall appeared damp, and even the floor seed constantly traversed by tiny flowing streams—giving the sensation that this stone chamber wasn’t just any room within the cathedral, but rather… a subrged cavern beneath the sea.
Fenna, not her first ti in this chamber—as a Judge of the City-State, with status equal to a bishop’s, she also had the right to use the “Spiritual Energy channel” here. This inconspicuous room was, in fact, the “portal” for constructing the Spiritual Energy channel.
In the central church of each City-State, there were facilities like this, and each congregation had similar technologies—the priests of the Storm Goddess used such “subrged caverns,” whereas the priests of the God of Death constructed interconnected pathways in “pale crypts.” These seemingly grim and oppressive installations actually perford a miraculous function: they could extract the user’s spirit and transport it into a vast, interconnected realm of Spiritual Energy. No matter how distant these City-States lay from one another, no matter how fierce the storms on the Endless Sea.
It was a miracle realized with the gods’ blessings, allowing churches spread far across the Endless Sea to communicate promptly, and in more ancient tis, when ocean-going vessels were not as reliable as they are now, this was the only ans many City-States had to maintain communication and confirm each other’s survival.
The door to the chamber slowly closed, the heavy, dark tal door emitting a dull thud. The complex runes inscribed on the twin doors began to race across the surface, intertwining and gnashing like living entities, sealing the room completely.
Fenna and Valentin stood together by the fire pit at the center of the room. They lowered their heads, gazing at the leaping sacred flas, silently reciting the holy na of the Storm Goddess Gomona.
The phantom sound of flowing water ca continuously from all around, growing louder with the chanting of the holy na. Gradually, the sound of flowing water rged into the sound of waves, even starting to roar, while a damp scent filled the room. As the heaviness of the moist air intensified, Fenna saw the trickling streams on the ground suddenly swell into churning waves, rising rapidly.
She watched the flas in the center of the room, burning fiercely as ever amid the rising waves.
Fenna closed her eyes, serenely allowing the illusory seawater to completely subrge her.
The icy sensation quickly vanished, and when she opened her eyes again, she no longer saw the rock chamber like a subrged cavern, but instead a vastly wide space of chaos—an apparent plaza, boundless and majestic, supported by nurous grand columns in the distance. The tops of these columns appeared shattered and dispersed into the distant sky, and a muddled flow of light shrouded the space above the plaza. Sothing seed hidden in the depths of that light, yet it was beyond the reach of mortal eyes.
Fenna steadied her spirit, and she saw that the plaza was already filled with many figures—rely silhouettes of black shadows. Although their faces were indiscernible, through the familiar aura each shadow radiated, she could confirm that they were all devout saints of the Storm Goddess—from various City-States as well as from the various mobile cathedrals and even the saints from the Storm Cathedral.
Only “saints” could beco the alternative “Listeners”—because so “voices” can only be fully heard by powerful saints while maintaining clarity of mind.
“It seems we are the last to arrive,” a shadowy figure approached, drifting in and out of solidity. Fenna recognized him as Bishop Valentin before he even spoke. The old man’s tone seed slightly embarrassed, “The last ti there was a eting, I was also the last to arrive…”
“Do the saints from other City-States live in secret chambers or what…” Fenna muttered under her breath, “every ti the convocation is announced, it takes less than ten minutes for them to gather half the people…”
“Since twenty years ago, when Saint Folson wrote ‘first’ on the register at the eting site, they’ve started competing to arrive early,” Valentin shook his head, “Honestly, I can’t understand it… the Goddess won’t grant any special attention for this.”
Fenna expressed neither agreent nor disagreent, but at that mont, a sudden roar arose from the end of the crowd, interrupting her thoughts as well as the conversations among the shadowy saints.
Fenna and Valentin simultaneously looked up, only to see the ground in the center of the plaza rising—an ancient, shattered cobblestone began to ripple like water waves. Amidst the overlapping ripples, a massive object rose rapidly, first the pale spire, followed by its tilting stone walls and primitive columns.
In almost an instant, the object entered Fenna’s full view—a massive building constructed of giant pale stones.
It was a gloomy “palace,” a structure erected in an already lost epoch, its silhouette embodying a pyramid at the core, surrounded by nurous obelisks and towers. No City-State on earth featured such an architectural style, and its low and oppressive atmosphere did not seem designed for the living.
To call it a palace was perhaps less accurate than calling it a vast tomb.
In fact, it was indeed a tomb—a mausoleum belonging to so ancient and powerful being.
Like everyone else, Fenna’s gaze uncontrollably fell upon the base of the great pyramid. Under the watch of countless eyes, the mausoleum’s gates finally began to open slowly.
The heavy, pale stone doors receded to either side, revealing a very tall figure slowly walking out from within.
That was the Tomb Guardian of the Naless King’s burial chamber.
In Fenna’s eyes, it was difficult to say whether “he” was still a living human.
His body was wrapped in layers of mummification linen, half of his body and linen blackened as though scorched. The other half was entwined with heavy rune shackles, the somber chains extending directly from his flesh, their tips twined with pulsating veins and nerves—this ancient Tomb Guardian, a terrifying creature made of flesh, iron restraint, and deathly curse, stepped out from the Naless King’s tomb, taking heavy footsteps towards the gathered shadows in the plaza.
Despite it not being her first ti seeing the “Tomb Guardian,” Fenna subconsciously took a breath, feeling her muscles tense.
Then, she saw the Tomb Guardian head straight towards her.
The choice had been made.
Without hesitation, the Tomb Guardian passed by everyone in the plaza, halting before Fenna. His head, entwined with linen and chains, bore only one exposed eye, which calmly looked at her—even though Fenna was already quite tall, the Tomb Guardian still towered a full head above her.
“You, may enter the burial chamber,” the Tomb Guardian spoke, his voice as hoarse as if coming from a corpse. He then raised his right hand, which looked scorched by fire, clutching a feathered pen and a roll of parchnt.
“Record what you hear,” the Tomb Guardian instructed succinctly.
(Mama mia!)
Reviews
All reviews (0)