Chronicles Chapter II

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As Above, So Below

The archeologists published their findings. They would name it the End’s Beginning City. A conclusion was reached; an age of kin unknown to modern-day Ptithians once lived on Ptitheros. The ancient kin had come and gone, likely gone extinct. In murals amongst the city and from statues on temples and homes, the old kin worshipped the four Cardinals too. But, the question is, why did these ancient kin leave no trace? Actually, they did. The End’s Beginning City is massive, far out of proportion to the average Ptithian, but a perfect fit for the few Colossal skeletons that have been found.

The Colossals were the Cardinal’s first kin.

It was preached that the Colossals were here, just like “us”, but now they were gone and left to rot. Few traces left behind and this was intentional and the Cardinals’ doing. The Cardinals gave up on their ancient kin, leaving them to slowly disappear from their world. If this happened in the past, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again. . . after all, all of the Cardinals no longer directly influence the modern-day kin.

No one can say for sure if history will repeat itself, but the End’s Beginning City foretells a fate far worse than a natural downfall of civilization. Stained murals depict a doomsday, detailing that when an Architect stops caring for its world, another one can try to sabotage or take it.

Information and rumors are spreading like wildfire. Only a few believe there is truly a doomsday around the corner, but many desire to rekindle a connection with the Cardinals just in case. Ptithians desire to bring Ptitheros back to its former glory, back to what it once was and push it a bit farther into the next age. Architects working with mortal kin is a new concept now sweeping the globe.

Ptithians become deeply afraid that their world may one day collapse or another Architect will arrive to steal it. Some brave Ptithians decided that there must be something they can do, right? If such a rumored doomsday is coming then there must be a way to prevent it.

These brave, likely stupid, Ptithians have set out on a quest to meet face-to-face with the one Cardinal they still know the whereabouts of. The elegant Sage of the North, Edenlline, mother of wyverns, gryphons, and rubasyns. Deity of the Sagekin religion and creator of the ancient capital.

It is said she lies deep within the ruins of Chavei, the ancient capital. Hidden away through crumbling corridors and cavern pathways covered in gravel and fragments of bone from the once rotting corpses of her previous devotees. Beyond such, there she exists in her temple; alone and emotionally depraved from the attention she once thrived upon. She is empty of life and will. She has lost everything, but she continues to protect the shattered remains of what she once loved.

Despite the dangers, Ptithians desiring this mission ventured into the honeycomb forest. The honeycomb forest, also known as the aurix caesin, was once a glorious, amber-leaved haven full of beauty and life. It is now a root-infested, accursed landscape filled with grief. Somber cries bellow from the husks of dead trees, fog settles on the ground every night, and monster shrieks echo from their burrows beneath the dry soil.

Windiages wander this landscape. Terrifying monsters, once residents of Chaveri who worshipped Edenlline, now cursed to forever remain a rotting body hungry for endless blood. They constantly seek their next meal and will attack anything on-sight. It is absolutely necessary to carry a weapon in order to survive a treck through this golden hell.

The broadest path through the forest, en route to the most used cavern entrance from previous adventurers and research teams, passes by the chasm that was once the place of a bustling clan called the Aurix. The now-territory of Woarii is all that remains of the lineage who created the Aurix Clan, a large group of Ptithians who called the golden forest home. They resided there long before the windiages began crawling out from the subterranean darkness. The Aurix members thrived here… until the cursed lands pulled them down too.

The clan’s homes and bodies collapsed, crumbled into the ruins below. Windiage were released through the wound in the ground, forcing those who survived to move quickly. Most went south in search of safety. Old houses can still be found on the outskirts made from burrowed-out trees. Some of the venturers may have family history to discover in these recent ruins, especially those native to Woarii.

The so-called safe cavern entrance is located on the broken plateau. Even with some construction and ropes leading down from past expeditions, skills in spelunking are certainly recommended, even with wings. The caverns are lined with steep slopes and dark corridors. The lights from fire and foe lanterns can barely penetrate the shadows. The venturers know that death could lurk around every corner, ready to attack and snap their legs or neck. As they get closer to the city, pits of coal and long-dead torches can be found and lit, but the light provides almost nothing. The glow pulsates down the tunnels, edging the Ptithians further and further towards their inevitable end.

As the adventurers approach the outskirts of the once-city, the caverns begin to show their age. Mining efforts, crumbling walls, piles of stone bricks. Then small buildings, little houses and poor district shops. Banners with writing catch the breeze blowing through the tunnels. Small houses turn into full-fledged streets, with abandoned fountains, plazas, and rotted wooden doorways into large cathedrals and apartment complexes. The inner city may be desolate, but it is still as grand as it once was. The ceiling rests high, high above, a great wound in the hearth now covered in only roots and canopy rather than solid rock. At one point in time, the sky was visible… this place, easily escapable, but no longer. The structures tower above and signs creak, the skeletons of those lucky enough to truly die litter room corners alongside dust and sand. Glowing eyes stare from the windows high above, growls echo in the distance, water drips rhythmically and the wind continues to howl.

Crushed corpses litter the entrance to the magnificent marble temple. It looks as if it were taken straight out of the stories of Babylua, these once praying Ptithians spent their final moments on their knees and begging for their god to save them. She did not. Even within these dreary caves, the temple shines. Free of dust, but not free of cracks and scratches caused by the windiage trying to tear it apart.

A god lies within.

Edenlline, Sage of the North, rests atop the massive marble staircase. Clouds, dreamy as can be, drift across the floor and the ceiling high above mimics false stars and holy light. The walls extend all around, filled with books and artifacts. Shattered glass covers the edges of shelves and gold glints from the fiery glow coming from the Architect’s flame-slicked mane and eyes.

Edenlline begins to move as She sensed a presence enter Her final domain. Oh, how She wished to be left alone, desiring Her rotten beasts to kill the adventurers. Nonetheless, She allowed them time to speak about their worries to Her.

“Are any of you Sagekin?” She asked, then fell silent, the glow in Her eyes dimming.

The Architect was informed about the recent archeological discoveries, as if She did not already know exactly what the explorers were here for. They snapped at Her, grasping for stable words in an air of potent silencing magic and uncertainty, telling Her that they now knew about the collossals and that She had let something utterly terrible happen to them.

Would you also let something so terrible happen to us?

. . . “The collosals did exist before you. They called Ptitheros home, with many of the other creatures you now reside with as well. However, they were not the final product. You see, there is always a method at hand. The universe guides us into what a world should appear to be, and it is simply said: the kin before you were a mistake. Thus, they were removed, and the process was started yet again. You may call it an extinction if you so desire, but be aware, the process has been conducted many, many times on the very ground you walk upon.”

Edenlline bowed Her head, “Be not afraid of your end. None of us have intentions of wiping the slate again. Since our last agreement, you are the final product.”

The adventurers were left the think. She said the gods had no intentions towards purposefully causing the downfall of the current kin, but all of them had still abandoned their world. Some sort of answer had to be reached, or else, would the mural’s depiction of the end-times be true? Would the gods’ abandonment lead to a disaster cause by outside forces?

They requested what they had come all this way to do: ask if Edenlline could return to be with the kin. They begged for such unity to be achieved, in order to ensure a safe future.

The Architect dismissed the idea. “My dears, I alone cannot provide everyone protection from the universe’s grand dangers. I would need them all to be by my side to ever accomplish what I once did in the ancient past. . .” She huffed, becoming irritated, “I would especially need Veduro, ‘else I refuse to continue so frivolously. I miss Them.”

And what if we find Swa, would you then choose to return?

“You seek a quest that you have no records for. Veduro has been missing for many, many centuries. Ever since such pitiful battles between the bulbous blue monstrum and the volcano-dwelling worm, Swa vanished, as if into thin air.”

She took a shaky breath, sounding defeated, “I do not know where They are. But. . . I know that Cymer would have witnessed Their final moments. If there is anyone to know, it would be Him.”

“Unfortunately, Cymer has long since been locked away. Locked away somewhere that is unreachable even by His own children, His demi-gods. Only something just as powerful and in tandem; something connected to his dreamworld of Sallenin would know how to locate Cymer. . . A god of dreams. A god of nightmares.”

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