He stood frozen, staring at the distant, blazing city for a mont before sighing with regret. Turning, he squatted down, hoping to find any leftover materials in the pile of ashes.
But the mont his palm touched the ground, the gravel disintegrated with a crash. Jenkins and his wood hearts went tumbling into a dark abyss.
When he ca to, everything was pitch-black. He looked up, but there was no light to be seen. A faint understanding dawned on him: his potion hadn't failed. Though it had sohow summoned a horde of evil spirits, the so-called "hollow beneath the flas" had indeed been created.
It was just that Mr. Saramanda's note hadn't been for concocting a potion at all—it was a ritual to open a spatial rift. The nausea and dizziness he felt now were undoubtedly the aftereffects of teleportation.
"Why did he lie to ...?"
He raised his miner's lamp, but it failed to illuminate his surroundings. He then tried the fire from his Bestowal, a candle, and even his monocle, but nothing could restore his vision.
He couldn't fathom what Mr. Saramanda's goal was, but the note ca to mind, and with it, the secret phrase. So, he softly recited in Elvish:
"The sunset by the Horse-Drinking Lake is the love of my life."
Poof. With a soft sound, a fla began to dance rrily atop a nearby sconce. But just seconds earlier, Jenkins had been certain there was nothing around him but the three wood hearts.
He looked around in astonishnt. Behind him rose a towering rock wall, and beneath his feet stretched a stone-paved road. The path was suspended over the abyss, and as he watched, lights on either side ignited in sequence, following the sound of his voice. Jenkins's gaze followed the chain of light into the distance, where a life-sized wooden statue stood at the end of the road.
He walked forward hesitantly with his wood hearts and stopped before the statue to observe it in silence. It depicted a classic elven figure, dressed in a light robe and a pointed hat adorned with green leaf patterns.
Its hands were cupped in an offering gesture, but they held nothing.
"Have you seen enough?"
The sudden voice made Jenkins jump. He took a sharp step back, realizing the statue was speaking.
"It seems you do not know where you are."
The voice was remarkably calm, but its gender was indiscernible.
"Then may I ask, where is this?"
Jenkins did his best to remain polite. At least, he had to try, until he had a clearer picture of what was going on.
"The world has changed so much. It has been a very long ti since I last t an elf who ca to visit. I am not even sure how I should describe this place; so much ti has passed in the material world that its old nas have surely vanished. All I can tell you is that we are deep beneath the surface. As for what lies directly above us, I cannot say."
The statue replied. Jenkins sensed no deception in its words, so after a mont's thought, he asked another question:
"My apologies, I don't know how I arrived here either. Can you tell what this place is for? My friend gave the ans to enter, but not the reason."
"This place... A long, long ti ago, in an age so distant I can no longer fully recall it, this was the spot directly beneath the roots of the World Tree..."
It spoke in fits and starts, not pausing to let Jenkins process the information despite the astonishnt on his face:
"This was where the essence of life gathered, the most sacred altar beneath the World Tree. But everything changed. The World Tree, too, eventually withered, and the elves eventually departed. So tens of thousands of years ago, the elves followed the Great One, leaving the material world and taking with them the most vibrant branch of the World Tree. Having left, they could no longer return. Since then, you are only the third elf to visit this place... My apologies. It has been so long since I've seen an elf, I was mistaken. You are a half-elf. That bloodline is..."
After that, it fell silent. Jenkins assud the statue was lost in mories of ages past, so he didn't press it.
"But why did Mr. Saramanda go to such lengths to bring here?"
The potion had intrigued him for the better part of half a year, only for it to turn out not to be a potion at all. He couldn't grasp the aning of any of it. He had been naive and ignorant when he t Mr. Saramanda in that Cursed Item's illusory world at the end of autumn. Now, even with the knowledge of his elven heritage, he still had no idea what the elf Saramanda was planning.
"Why didn't he just tell the ritual opened a spatial gate...? Then again, if he had, I certainly wouldn't have perford it. Spatial travel is incredibly dangerous, and back then I didn't even have a divine domain to help judge whether he was telling the truth... So, to get here, Mr. Saramanda had to use a lie like 'it's an unknown potion, you can make it without having to drink it' to lure into his trap..."
He mulled this over, his eyes scanning the surroundings. The subterranean abyss was bone-chillingly cold and dark. If not for the comforting familiarity of the elven decorations and the warm candlelight, he wouldn't have wanted to stay here for another second.
"So who are you? A remnant consciousness of the World Tree?"
Jenkins asked, figuring it was a reasonable guess. This was an altar, after all.
"No, I am not so noble. You can think of as a mory, imprinted upon this place. Before the elves departed, they knew they might never be able to co back. However, not all elves left with the Great One, and even those who did weren't certain they wouldn't one day return, or what they might find if they did. That is why I was made—to guide any elves... or half-elves... who found their way here, and to tell future generations of the glory their ancestors once knew. The phrase you spoke just now was the secret code to disable the protective asures here, a code known only to the elves."
"The glory of the past?"
Jenkins's interest was piqued, and he imdiately asked:
"I have sothing I must ask. Can you tell why the elves left the material world back then?"
His tone was filled with anticipation.
"That is an interesting question."
The voice replied, its tone refined and gentle.
"Is it the end of an Epoch again? I am sorry, half-elf, but I cannot speak of such matters. Since you are asking, you must understand that so things you can only discover for yourself."
The statue replied. Jenkins was disappointed, of course, but this wasn't the first ti he'd been given such an answer, so the feeling wasn't overwhelming. He considered his options. There was no point in staying. The secrets the statue held were fascinating, but he was more concerned with the situation in Ruen. Now that he knew how to get here, he could always return when he had more ti.
Reviews
All reviews (0)