A promise? Do such things, even if they are just words in the grand scheme of things, mean so little to the Darshi?
Gor paced his apartment, stepping over books and scattered pages. Plans raced through his head, even though annoyance kept on irking him to curse out loud the very name of his presumed friend, Kanrel.
The bastard had promised—sworn—that Gor would be allowed to help him when he was to step into the Veil... but instead, he had gone behind their backs, and left behind only a letter. A suicide note.
Dread stopped him. He sank to the floor, surrounded by papers. Again, tears wanted to break through; they wanted to change the storm within his eyes into one with another meaning altogether.
Lord From Above. He had lost a friend. Surely, he had perished within the Veil, leaving behind only memory, and a wound too vast to be filled by anything else. He couldn't fill it. Couldn't think about anything else. Weeks it had been.
Gor had found the letter; he had been the first to read it, then to share it with Y'Kraun. And together they had traveled to the other side of the city, to the edge of the Veil... And oh, they had both peered deep into it. Only to see that darkness gaze back at them. Only to hear the whispers that taunted them, as if the shadows themselves knew who they were there to look for.
Y'Kraun had almost stepped into it. He had been so angry as he muttered about having to save a suicidal fool once again, but thankfully, Gor had managed to keep him from following suit. Instead, they spent about an hour there. Sitting at the edge of darkness. Not really talking much; not really even crying or anything like it.
They had just sat in silence and stared at it. Gor wasn't sure about the range of emotions that had run through Y'Kraun's mind, but he could imagine that they had been similar to his own.
Anger. Despair. Sadness. A realization that... he might be dead. No. That he was probably dead, and they could do nothing about it. It was too late. Before lunch, they walked back home, still in silence.
That day, and a few days after, the shop stayed closed.
It had been weeks since that day, and during that time, they had been summoned before the Council to explain themselves. Vaur'Kou'n was there, too. And apparently, the infamous Vaur'Kou'n had been there, just moments before Kanrel had stepped into the Veil, and had not stopped him.
During the meeting, Y'Kraun jumped from his knees and attacked the very dangerous Captain Vaur'Kou'n. He had shouted it over and over—'Why? Why did you let him go!?'—until his voice broke, until all that remained was a man on his knees, sobbing into the robes of the one who had let Kanrel walk away.
The Atheian had let him do just that, and he hadn't even budged. But he did give an answer, soft and even: 'He just didn't seem happy, so I let him go.' He let Y'Kraun cry and soon after accepted the Council's judgment, and departed the City of Last Light the very same day, making his way toward the City of Creation.
Gor sighed, and he could feel how it wavered. Tears remained thick in his throat, wanting to be cried out, but they just wouldn't... they refused to. He refused to cry. He still wanted to believe; he still kept deluding himself that Kanrel might still be alive, somewhere there, past the Veil. And he might be trapped. He might be starving, waiting for rations to fail, for his last lantern to die. Waiting for someone to save him.
And all that Gor could think about now was this: How am I to save him?
He was a scholar, a friend. Not a hero. He wasn't brave, not really. In fact, he was afraid to his very core. Just what if his fears were correct, and he chose to do nothing, could he bear with himself? Could he continue existing in such a case?
No. He wouldn't.
Gor's long, gray legs shook as he got back up from the floor.
Grief soured into anger. Perhaps Kanrel had been a terrible friend. Not only to him, but to Y'Kraun, and seemingly to Vaur'Kou'n as well. For he had placed the onus of grief onto them, not taking into account everyone that would be left behind; everyone that still loved him; that still would have to exist after him.
He bit down on his teeth, still holding onto his tears, but now forcing them away. He would not cry. He refused.
These tears he would only shed if there were proof of his demise. He was a scholar, after all. And in his mind, Kanrel existed in a paradox of sorts: He either was alive or dead, and no one knew if he was or wasn't. Only Kanrel himself could possibly know such a thing. Not him. And if Gor truly were a scholar, although one that no longer worked in the Grand Library, he would seek such proof. He would take this hypothetical notion of death and disprove it if he had to.
He would go through the papers and books that Kanrel left behind, and from them, he would derive every ounce of information that he could. Perhaps among them, he would find a way to survive the Veil, for who knows? It might be more than possible that Kanrel had found a way to navigate through something most knew to fear. After all... the Darshi had spent a year within the Sanctuary, never telling him or Y'Kraun much of the things that he had learned within.
By now, he had reached the doorway. A threshold where plans formed almost purely from emotions would force themselves into reality, into things more than just thoughts and words; into more than just promises. If he were to walk through it today and go to Kanrel's room at their shop, he believed that there would be no turning back. Gor would have to go through with it all.
And he would make sure not to make the same mistakes Kanrel had made. Y'Kraun deserved to know of his plans; he deserves to have a chance to sway him to not go or to accept that he would go.
The door opened, and he stepped outside of his apartment for the first time in a few days. Surely, he had gone mad, but how else could he bear to exist with himself?
- - -
Their shop had become like a time capsule of a life lived before Kanrel's departure. His things were still within, and so were memories of him. Shelves that he had helped shape, books that were written by him, and maps of the world above, drawn by him. Explanations of things like trees and apples, the very shape of the world above them, what it was composed of, what its people were like, and just what the sun felt like, or the rain as it dripped down from the heavens, and the dark clouds that at times populated it.
He paused in the doorway. Could it be that Kanrel had found a way back home? That he stood under the sun he once dreamed of, rain soaking his hair, embraced by the wind? Gor hoped it was true. At least then... at least then, the selfish friend had found the desire that had pulled him away from all they had built.
Gor stepped past these memories, afraid that they might be too fragile, too momentary, and easily forgotten, to stare at. What if all these things, their time spent together, the work they did, the business they had built, what if he were to forget it all?
Kanrel's room was small. Organized, even optimized, one could claim, for all things within it had a definitive purpose for being where they were. Just like the journal Kanrel had left behind, it had been closed as if trying to hide away where he had left his message.
'Goodbye, dear friends,' it had said, followed by, 'Do not follow me into the dark.'
Gor scoffed at the thought of it, but even then, he couldn't help but stand and stare at the table, the very spot where the journal had been placed. The curiosity that had swelled within him, to go ahead and break someone's privacy, to take a peek within, to see someone else's thoughts, when they themself weren't there to give him the right to do so.
And now... he would do it again.
His gaze moved from the table to the bed—untouched, tidy, as if Kanrel had prepared the room for mourning—and then to the shelves that dominated the rest of the small room.
The sheer volume of them testified to how much Kanrel had written—how obsessively he had documented his time here. And these books, they weren't just about the world above. There was a whole section of it that was just journals, a collection of his thoughts and experiences since arriving in the Land of Shadows Below. But perhaps more importantly, there should be a collection of books that focused on his theory of magic…
Gor distinctly remembered Kanrel's time at the cave just outside the city. The same one he had made his home for a long while. He remembered the number of empty journals that he had to bring Kanrel whenever he ran out. They never really discussed them that much, but he did show some things.
How long would it take? He wondered for a moment. The last few thoughts of hesitation that he allowed himself. Then, he sighed and rolled up his sleeves, as if they would get in the way, and picked a random book from the first shelf that he could reach. He opened it to the very first page and read it: Forests and Their Inhabitants...
He placed it to the side and picked up the next one, and the next, and the next one, always reading the first few words, to find out which books or journals he had to actually read, and which were by all means useless to him at the moment.
The first shelf focused on just that. The world above, its 'flora and fauna', its rivers and its mountains. The next shelf focused on history and culture, mentioning things like the Priesthood and religious rituals and teachings that they might offer; funeral customs and how they were different in the south and the north. The grand cities the Darshi had built, and much, much more. But still, things he didn't need to learn, not at the moment.
It was the very last shelf at the other side of the room that offered him what he needed as he read the first few words, and soon after the whole first page, of a journal he picked up: 'The very concept of time seems to be convoluted at the time of writing, for I cannot, for the life of me, say how many years have passed since I set out on this foolish adventure. Only by the condition of my beard can I make an assumption, but such an assumption could never be accurate, for I cannot say for certain how much a beard grows in a day. Nor do I know if there are other conditions that might affect how quickly a beard may grow.'
This was the beginning of the first entry, and it went on to describe things Kanrel had noticed about the Atheians, critiquing their systems of hierarchy, comparing similarities and differences between his own culture, the Atheian culture, as well as the "Sharan" culture... He also mentioned someone who was known as "Kalma," likening him to a powerful tyrant of sorts, or perhaps a god?
Gor was a lover of history. It was his field of study; as far as he was aware, he had read most of the history books that were available to him at the Grand Library, and not once had anyone ever mentioned the name Kalma... the Sharan on the other hand, they had received frequent mentions, after all, they were the "heavenly" that had exiled his people below the earth.
Gor kept reading. The first few entries focused on much of the same, mentioning people like Y'Kraun, A'Trou'n, as well as a scholar named Lou'Deu'n. There seemed to be two simultaneous commentaries going on at the same time: the first one, which focused on the observations about the world that Kanrel had so suddenly found himself in, and the second, which focused on the things that he did, and more notably, the things that he had shared with the Atheians. He had clearly wanted to make sure that he was always aware of what he had told, and just how much he could tell, and what he should tell about. It seemed that Kanrel tried to keep from talking about the Sharan, especially. Often mentioning that a conversational misstep could easily lead to his death, for when it came to the Atheians, he was unsure if they would use violence against him, and when the novelty of his existence would run dry.
And as there were more entries, the mention of the shadows became more frequent, as well as dreams that were filled with them. How the shadows would bubble and quiver... Later came the whispers…
The first journal ended at the arrival of Vaur'Kou'n, their sudden departure for the City of Creation, as well as a whisper: We died for nothing... Kanrel's ill-advised curiosity, as he left their camp behind, to scout further ahead, as well as to observe the Veil around them... the lanterns that kept it and its shadows at bay.
The flickering lantern, how it dwindled, how the darkness violently rushed in, assaulting him... touching him, screaming at him, accusations that became louder and louder, the feeling of suffocation, and then, that which he could see... the darkness itself, this new form of light that did not exist, yet spread before his eyes. It was everywhere... only to be banished by an unlikely hero... Vaur'Kou'n, and his stern advice: 'You will not mention this to anyone…'
Gor read for hours, journal after journal, reading through Kanrel's experiences; his observations about the alien culture around him. His time at the City of Creation... soiled with a particular memory, one that Gor had no prior knowledge of. He hadn't known the trauma he and Y'Kraun had experienced... How the scholar, Lou'Deu'n, met the ceiling with great force, and the warm blood that rained on them that day…
A'Daur'Kra, someone that Gor had heard of. Most who knew some things about the politics of the Atheian lands knew of him in some way. They called him crazy for a reason. His complicated relationship with his sister was well known. Gor couldn't help but feel somewhat bad for Vaur'Kou'n, even when the bastard had allowed Kanrel to step into the Veil without truly trying to keep him here.
Questions of love and murder. Regrets of which Gor had never heard. Kanrel's true relation to the world above. So much that he had never known of. And you think that you know someone. Lies and truths, things so complicated, mixed together in entries written quite frequently. It seemed that Kanrel seldom failed to sit down and write. Even if it was only to lament the man he had become, the memories he was afraid to lose, or the things he had done.
Pain, there was so much pain. So much more than Gor had been aware of. But then... There were other things as well. Things you couldn't believe. Entries that were like history, of things that had happened apparently thousands of years ago, but as if seen from Kanrel's point of view. As if he had been there to witness them. The fall of a city known as N'Sharan. The nine godly figures known as the Magi. The dragon, who was revered and known as Kalma. And the murderer, who had killed his own father, Ignar Orcun.
He couldn't stop reading. And often he found that he could barely understand the words that spread before his eyes. The worlds that it painted before him, the history that had transpired. The things that Kanrel had experienced, but not as Kanrel, instead as someone who was like Kanrel, but wasn't quite him, but at the same time was.
The loss caused by the Ritual and later the death of one of his friends, Yirn. How it all had changed him; how these things that he had learned to regret and bitterly remember had shaped him into the man that he had been forced to become. It was then Y'Kraun entered the room, calling for Gor's name; seeing him sitting on the floor of Kanrel's room, with a stack of read books by his side.
"Gor? What are you doing?" he asked, and came closer. A worried, tired expression was all that was left of the once jovial Y'Kraun. The past two weeks hadn't served him well either. He had even lost weight. When was the last time he had slept? Was he alright? Did the memory of Lou'Deu'n's death still haunt him to this day?
Gor's whole body shook as he got up from the floor; his steps were fragile as he walked toward him. He stumbled forth, almost falling over, but managed to safely reach Y'Kraun, who seemed somewhat scared for him.
He placed a hand on Y'Kraun's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I never knew," he whispered. "There's so much I never knew." Then, the world spun and went dark. There was no sound or light; no memory of his own after the fact.
Y'Kraun quickly knelt down with him, Gor's weight bringing them both down. He placed his hand on his chest, feeling his elevated heartbeat, how his chest rose and fell. "Gor... what did you find?" he asked, but Gor could no longer answer.