My mind continued to race as I stared at the palace, wondering why I said that.
"Why did I say that?"
There was one answer I got, maybe a muscle memory.
"Now that I think about it, who am I?"
Several thoughts came to my mind as I tried to remember who I was. My face was dark, not because the place was dark, but because there was no memory in my mind of who I was.
The only thing I could think of is the submarine and the palace that was floating in the air.
I kept trying to remember, but it was like trying to hold on to water with your bare hand. Difficult. Slipping through my fingers the harder I squeezed.
I stared at the palace. It looks like it was calling me. A faint distant hum echoed in the area like a gentle breeze. I felt a subtle connection to the building, not a shallow one but a deep connection. Like it knew my name before I forgot it.
"It looks like I have no choice but to enter the palace, but how?" I asked.
It was impossible to jump from the mountain to the palace due to the distance and the height especially.
"I just have to look for another way," I said as my heart blazed with curiosity and interest.
Anything that could draw me had to have something valuable in it.
I started brainstorming on how to get there.
Before I tried to think about how to get to the palace, I first surveyed the mountain, looking for anything valuable, any information, and potential danger.
The mountain looked peaceful, but I wasn't fooled by the peace. Nobody would be. So, it was better to scout the mountain.
The mountain wasn't as wide as I thought it would be. The size was how a standard village would be. There wasn't much room to find resources, and the strangest thing is that there wasn't anything on the mountain.
After hours of searching the entire mountain, I couldn't find anything. The mountain was as good as dead. Nothing was on it except the tree and me.
"This is starting to get me crazy. If I stay on this mountain any longer, I might get truly crazy," I concluded as I spoke to myself.
Several days passed with fruitless effort. Everything I tried didn't work. I kept staring at the palace like a distant dream that couldn't be achieved.
With no significant breakthrough, I gave up. On normal occasions, I wouldn't give up easily, but this. This doesn't have a solution. It was as if I was sent here to suffer.
"Ah, Mister Quinn, how would you solve this problem?" I spoke to the tree which I named Quinn.
Strangely it was the only name I could think of when I looked at the tree. The bark had knots like eyes. Judging me. If people could see me, I am sure that they would be seeing a psychotic person talking to a tree.
It wasn't my fault. Being stuck in this place for more than a week has truly put me in this position. Nobody could last a week in this strangely quiet place without turning insane or having a few screws loose.
On a particular day when I was about to truly lose my sanity, I saw a leaf falling from the tree onto the cloud. Instead of it continuing to fall, it stayed on the cloud like resting on a surface.
"What!!"
I have been here for about a week and a few days, and the answer to the problem that I have been trying to solve was right in front of me — literally right in front of me.
I didn't know whether to be happy or sad or both. It just didn't matter. I steeled my mind and prepared for what was ahead of me.
"Let's see what you have in store for me."
****
We continued to move, going deeper underground, until we finally got to the room. At first we thought there wouldn't be anything special about the room, but when we got there we were greeted by a gigantic door.
None of us has seen any door as large as this door, and the pressure the door gave us was something else entirely.
It was both mysterious and chaotic. The pattern on the door even confirmed the claim. Each pattern was like a story depicting human and beast in an eerily clear way.
Nobody knew what it meant, but we understood it. I couldn't put my finger on how we understood what it said. It wasn't reading. It was remembering. Like a nightmare we all shared.
Darok, unfazed by our reaction, signaled for the guards to prepare for the opening of the door.
They gave a nod and began the preparation. First, they lit the surroundings with fire. The flames of the fire danced acutely as they brought out torches.
With the torches lit, they began to move in a series of movements. They moved with the same rhythm as if they were extensions of the same body. This wouldn't be possible unless they have trained for this for all their lives.
The movement looked to be random, but I could notice series of patterns in it.
"Are they dancing?" Mark asked, looking at the guards.
"It seems so," Edward answered.
It looks like they are dancing, but there was a subtle difference. There wasn't any beat played. This couldn't be classified as dancing. It looked more than that. An ancient technique. A prayer made of footsteps.
For about fifteen minutes they continued to move in the same pattern until the door gave a response, glowing faintly.
When the guards saw it, they were reenergized, putting more effort into their movement.
It took some time for the glow to be bright. Only then did they stop. They gasped for air as they recomposed themselves and began the final stage.
They stood in front of the door and brought out a knife, holding it by their side.
Within few seconds, we were given a shock. The guards brought the knife to their necks and slit their throats with it.
Their bodies, which have now been devoid of life, fell to the floor, bathing itself with its blood. The blood which was supposed to dry on the floor, flowed towards the door.
The door was sucking every single drop of blood in their body. It left the body of the guards only when the corpses didn't have any blood in it again.
The bodies which still had vitality before they were sucked were quite different now. The bodies were dry, only the bones were visible, showing us how dangerous the door was.
'What is this door made of?'
The door shone brightly as if pleased by the blood offering given unto it. With a loud groan, the door began to open.