A wall of darkness at the edge of all light. From floor to ceiling, it towered over those far too insignificant to comprehend its reality. It called the ants closer—step in, accept its embrace. See what it wants you to see; feel what it has felt; know what is better left forgotten.
They do not forget. They refuse to be forgotten. This illness is of this world—born of it, for it—the world gave it form and memory. If the world were just, it would never have allowed tyrants like Kalma to do as they pleased.
The Veil remembers: the earth is sin.
It smoldered and wavered. It screeched and it sang. Then it... stopped.
Stillness. No worms slithering against the lights, no whispers from the shadows. For a moment, it simply was. Why?
It waited. It had waited a long time, one moment among many, and now it braced.
Something was on its way. Something was about to happen.
Somewhere within the ever-darkness of the Veil, a chain snapped. A lock began to turn.
It bubbled and it screeched and it sang. In a choir of joy and suffering it reveled, and the earth answered with a quiet rumble. One of many to come...
- - -
Mu'u Tou't felt a slight shiver at his heel, but so passing it was that it must have just been a loose stone and nothing more. He walked down the street for the first time in over twenty years. For such a long time, he had not left the peace of the Sanctuary. For so long, he had given study his all; from it he had gained something. He had been blessed with clarity; with knowledge.
A warning.
One that he ought to share with the world. He had seen the future. It had shown itself to him, and it showed him doom unimaginable to an Atheian. The world above; it called for them. The world below is not where their kind would die. For the Atheians, there would be a final dawn.
They would believe him. Perhaps not now, but soon. Not in a day or two, not even in a week or a month, but soon. The days would make it clearer. The truth would illuminate them; it would make them believe.
They would follow him. He would be the one to shepherd them through the Second Exodus, for the end was nigh.
He knew this, and so he was sure that everyone would believe him in the end. For why wouldn't they? Me'ur Au'ur had believed him, and she was a scholar. Not a believer in either of the common faiths. She did not see the Lord From Above nor the God Who Hung as hers. They were just characters of mythology. Instead, she, too, had found faith. True faith.
She had read his writings, and from them she had made her conclusions. They had conversed, and she had been convinced. And now, she walked by his side. And she wore what he wore. Robes to veil their mortality while carrying what they knew to be divine.
She would learn from him. She would know the words by heart. And she would repeat them when it was her turn to go alone, to walk these streets, and to guide the people toward salvation.
But for now, she would listen. And listen she did.
They came to a halt at a busy street, one not too far away from the Forum. One where they would be seen and heard by most people as they went on with their daily lives. Just across stood a large apartment building housing many Forum clerks.
Perhaps this way, their truth would be instilled into their minds, and they would carry it with them into the Forum, and maybe, just maybe, it would guide them toward decisions that could save them all.
But it also could lead to horror. Censorship by the Forum. It was common. Very common. Especially for those whose beliefs were seen as fringe or even dangerous... Radicals weren't allowed within their perfect society.
But what else were they to do? What other means could Mu'u Tou't use to share the word given to him by the darkness itself?
The people ignored him; they walked by him. A runner hurried toward the Forum with a letter in hand; a wealthier Atheian, parasol tilted, drifted toward the market.
In this moment, he would be ignored, and they would be right to ignore him. But soon, all of them, every single one of them, would be here, standing around him, listening to his words. Believers they would become.
And so he cleared his throat with this great intent in his mind, and spoke: "My fellow Atheians; neighbors and strangers, rich and poor, young and old, healthy and sickly!"
Glances were thrown at him, but they walked by, confused by the absurdity.
"Hear me, and heed my words. I have seen the fields of plenty; the vast cavern without walls or a ceiling. I have seen the waters that fall from the heavens, and the white shadows that traverse far above us. I have seen the great, golden crystal that blesses the lands below it with life and warmth. I have seen the world above, and it called us by name."
A clerk making their way toward the Forum paused, stared, then scoffed, "Insane."
"Hear me. This is not where we shall end our days. We shall leave behind this empire we have built. We shall reclaim what was ours; we shall return to where we came from. We shall set our faces to the east and make ready—packs and children, bread and courage—for the Second Exodus."
"Hear me. The end is nigh. These towers and spires shall collapse. The earth shall swallow the caverns we have populated. There shall be a sign—given to all, heard by all—and when it is given, we shall rise as one and go. Remember this, and be not afraid!" Mu'u Tou't stopped; no one had stayed to listen. They had only walked by; some stopped for a moment to wonder who had allowed such insanity to grace them on this day.
But he did not mind it. Instead, he looked to his side. Me'ur was there, and she had listened; her eyes told the truth. She would remember this sermon, and she would repeat it one day.
Mu'u Tou't smiled and turned his gaze toward the nonexistent crowds before him. For now, they were just people walking by. He cleared his throat and began again...
Somewhere in the heart of darkness, another chain snaps; another scream shakes the earth. Gentle tremors vibrate buildings, but no one notices; no one cares. The shadows sing in anticipation; they wait for release.
Days would pass; the tremors would grow.
- - -
Four days ago, Y'Kraun had taken his wife and children to a picnic, although he had called it an adventure. They went just outside the city, to a cave which Kanrel had for a while called his home. It wasn't the most exciting location, but for L'ek'ral and L'enu'n it was mysterious... The two had never left the safety of the city, never walked so close to the Ancients; never seen a stalagmite forest, although Y'Kraun and Kanrel had both told stories of such things to them. How, once, a long time ago, Kanrel and he had walked through one when they first met. He had told them about the tunnels, and the engraving etched to the walls; how there was an Angel who had looked down on them, but welcomed Kanrel to this subterranean world. He did not mention the strange skulls and bones found on the floor, though.
Y'Kraun had also told stories about his time at the Blue-Stone Village, especially about the lake. There weren't that many happy memories attached to that place. Only the lake was something he often dreamed about, and it made him wonder, what did the sea look like? The one Kanrel had told him about... an endless blue that reaches far beyond the horizon. Y'Kraun couldn't even imagine such things.
But sadly, near the cave, there were no lakes or anything like that, but there was the cave. And that is where the real mystery began for the kids. For they entered it, and got to see something they hadn't imagined seeing. It was basically a room formed from the cave itself. There were shelves, tables, and chairs, all made from stone. And even a bed and a fireplace! Who had built such things? They wondered, and so did Y'Kraun, not wanting to spoil the mystery.
They spent a couple of hours there, ate some lunch, and then made their way back home. The kids didn't want to leave at first, since that would mean that their adventure would come to an end. But U'Ran'Ui reminded them of something important; something that Y'Kraun had never thought about, 'Much like journeys, adventures, too, become whole only when you reach home. Where else will you have time to look back on it, and appreciate all things that you did see?'
By all measures, Y'Kraun was a lucky man. He had so much more than most, and to lose it all is what he had learned to fear the most. Even with this grief and the passing thought of following Kanrel into the dark, he would never do it. He had even realized his mistake of thinking such thoughts... To think of such things, did it not make him a hypocrite? Had he not told Kanrel not to be so 'weak-willed' and not to waste time itself?
And surely, Y'Kraun had not changed like that. He had not become more like Kanrel. He had become more of something else entirely. And he believed that the person he had become was better than the man he'd been a decade ago. And besides, what could change the nature of a man to such an extent that he would accept oblivion as his only choice?
He had only accepted that someone might see it as their only choice, but he would never choose that path himself. He couldn't. There were far too many things he was responsible for. Be it another adventure he would have with his children; be it the love he ought to show and share with his wife; be it the food that he carried to Gor... be it a memory of someone dead, a friend.
He sighed as he stepped outside the apartment building, making his way down the street toward the market. There were many things he would need to buy. Gor would soon run out of ink, and he would surely need more. Not to mention L'enu'n's need for a new journal, she had already filled a couple whilst learning how to write; she was making steady progress, and Y'Kraun couldn't help but be proud of her. Sometimes it was just a little difficult to say it out loud. He was afraid of the tears that might push through. Why do children grow so fast?
Today was an odd one. There seemed to be many more people about than usually, and he walked past his neighbors and whoever, he heard whispers... Talks about someone. A prophet of sorts, who spoke of something strange. About the world above and such. Things that by all means are insane; things that aren't possible.
Y'Kraun didn't think that. It wasn't impossible. He hoped that it wasn't. He dreamed that Kanrel wasn't dead, that he had found his way through the Veil and found a way to return to his home. To the people that he had been forced to leave behind so many years ago. But what he didn't believe were the talks about an impending doom. 'The end is nigh.' So they say, and there have been many such talks throughout Atheian history. People who had gone cave-sick, wholly insane. They always promised and spoke of such things, but never did they come to fruition.
Once, Y'Kraun had heard the other serfs speak of such things, and for a little bit, he had believed that the ceiling would come down and crush them all. That was twenty years ago. Nothing had happened. It never did. The earth would not swallow them; the Atheians would survive like they always had.
A tremor shook the ground. Y'Kraun could feel it. Everyone did. But even then, it didn't matter. As of late, such tremors had become more common, but it wasn't like there hadn't been tremors and even earthquakes years back. In fact, he remembered one such occasion; it had been a few days before Y'Kraun had found Kanrel in the tunnels south of Blue-Stone Village. The whole place had shaken, and so did the waters of the lake, soon gushing over its banks, as waves pushed against the earth from far away.
There was no reason to be afraid of tremors or even earthquakes. Throughout Atheian history, they had never had an effect. No one had ever died from a tremor.
Y'Kraun stepped past a crowd that had gathered at the market. So many people—standing, not moving, all ears turned to a single voice. He peered past the crowds, looking for the source of this commotion, soon finding an Atheian, standing before the crowds, dressed in white robes, preaching of things that made no sense...
"Hear me! For the end is nigh! Hear me, for these towers and spires shall collapse! Hear me, for the earth shall swallow the caverns that we have populated! Hear me, for we must make our way to the east and find our ancestral lands!" they spoke. It seemed that their speech had come to an end, and when it did, the crowd had two kinds of voices: "Heresy!" proclaimed one in the back. "We can feel the tremors, oh disciple, what are we to do?" asked one, standing much closer to them.
The soothsayer seemed to ponder for a moment, then they replied: "Fear not, for there shall be a sign; the prophet tells us to look for it, and when it is given, it will be heard by all, then we shall know when our salvation is to come!" their voice carried well, reaching even those who stood at the edges of the crowd. The soothsayer seemed to be a woman.
Y'Kraun shook his head. They would all soon learn that standing around and listening to such things was perhaps one of the greatest wastes of time. So he stepped past the crowds, not bothering with another moment of her foolish sermons, and made his way to a shop where all he needed would be sold.
"Ink and a journal," he muttered to himself as he stepped into a shop, but he could still hear as the woman spoke: 'The Second Exodus; journey to the East…' What a waste of time.
Another chain.
A scream filled with torment echoed within the Veil; it was soon followed by laughter and cries. A voice begged for forgiveness, the voice begged for the pain to stop. And all the while, the shadows stayed halted; then, a tremor ran through the darkness; the ground screamed, and the whole world shook. Lanterns at the edges of the Veil flickered; they dimmed, but soon found their light anew.
The Veil rejoiced as it wavered against the unstable lights. A billion memories scraped and scarred the lanterns that keep them at bay. What is that which is better left forgotten?
Yet the Veil remembered.