Revaramek the Resplendent - Missing Chapter K (Patreon)

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Chapter K

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Revaramek shuddered, his scales rustling. He could not blame Jekk for fearing the worst. Why wouldn’t Asterbury’s father want revenge on one of the few people left alone from those years of endless torment? But truth of it was, the entity they were discussing was a god. Or, at least something akin to one, Revaramek thought. There was little doubt he did not already know Jekk was here. He’d simply chosen to leave him be.

“Jekk,” Revaramek said. “I only imagine he already knows you’re here. Take solace in the fact he hasn’t made himself known until now. I don’t think he wants anything to do with anyone here. I think I’m just forcing the issue, in his mind.”

“Perhaps.” Jekk rubbed his face with a bony hand. “Just the same, I’d prefer not to find myself face to face with him.”

“Wasn’t asking you to sit down to afternoon tea.” Revaramek idly flipped through one of the books, pertaining to another world. Occasional sketches broke up the swathes of text. He paused at the sight of a few rather short looking lizards. “Oh, look. Va’chaak children.”

Jekk glanced down. “Think those are kobolds, actually. Like va’chaak, but smaller.” He scratched at his beard. “Haven’t seen many of them in the marsh, but there’s a few in some of the northern villages, I think.”

“Oh, is that what those were?” Revaramek pinned back his ears. “I met some of them on my last goodwill trip out that way. No wonder they seemed offended when I called them children.”

Jekk snorted, arching a brow. “And you call me-”

“An old man, which is what you are.” Revaramek quickly flipped through a few more pages, pausing at another sketch. This one depicted a roughly circular object, shaded to look dark, and inscribed with stylized dragons. “Jekk, is that what I think it is?”

A deep scowl further creased Jekk’s already wrinkled face. “Yes. That looks like the sort that used to put on your ancestors. The ones that eventually used to imprison Vakaal and his further were heavily modified. Although…” Jekk leaned in closer. “Something about that one looks off. Maybe it’s just my memory going. But I don’t remember the ones I saw on dragons as a child looking so…fancy. Maybe that’s one of the originals.”

“Originals?”

Jekk held his hands up. “You realize of course, that any information I give you may lack veracity, given-”

“Yes, Jekk,” Revaramek said, waving a paw. “That’s a fancy way of saying you’re full of shit.”

Jekk glared at him. “It’s a fancy way of saying I was a child the last time I saw dragons wearing those. And any further information I’ve gained since then was based on my own research, in archives, from volumes that may or may not be the least bit accurate.”

“Like I said.” Revaramek shrugged his wings. “Full of shit. But do go on.”

Jekk furrowed his bushy white brows. “It’s moments like this that make me wish I could banish you all over again.”

Revaramek cackled. “Then mission accomplished! Really, though.” He eased his tone. “Go on.”

Jekk sighed and rolled his eyes. “My understanding, limited as it may be, is that the collars placed upon your ancestors, and Vakaal, were adapted from an artefact found elsewhere. Now, there were several schools of thought about it’s origin. One was that the storytellers had created it, many lifetimes ago, in a timeline that ended. An ‘everyone dies’ version of the world, if you prefer. And then, sometime later…” Jekk brought his hands together. “One of their world jumps brought them into that dead world, where they discovered it, perhaps without realizing another version of their ancestors created it.”

Revaramek gave an irritable grunt. “I want to say that gives me a headache, but at this point, it’s just about par for the course. It’s easier to follow logic than some of the things we’ve discovered over the years. And really, it’s not unlike what the storytellers kept doing in Vakaal’s world, right?”

“More or less, yes.” Jekk dusted his hands off, as if ridding himself of the idea. “Another theory was that the original inhabitants of that world forged it from Gods-Blood. Which is like shadowstone, but…” Jekk trailed off, pursing his lips. “Do you really want to hear all this technical mumbo jumbo?”

“Perhaps if you stick the most pertinent details, for now.” Revaramek idly stretched a wing, glancing towards the Va’chaak’s Grand Temple. Several of their guards and workers had clustered around the main entryway. “Something may be happening. I hope Enora hasn’t raised too much of a ruckus.”

Jekk studied the sketch of the collar. “I’d be shocked if she hadn’t. Very well, then. The pertinent bits. This world, unlike ours, has magic. Not just the spark, but actual magic.”

“You mentioned all this before, didn’t you.” Revaramek turned his attention back to the old man, tilting his head. “It actually sounds like it would make for quiet a fascinating tale, sometime.”

“I did, yes.” Jekk shot him a glare. “And you immediately shushed me, and dismissed it all as irrelevant to the current problem.” Jekk’s expression softened. “Which, admittedly, it is. But unfortunately…” He waved at the books they’d already covered. “That’s about all we’ve found thus far that’s relevant. There are other accounts of guardians there, if you’d like to read them. And we’ll keep looking.”

“Thank you.” Revaramek gently tapped the image on the page. “Finish telling me about this, then?”

Jekk traced his fingers over the image. “Magic, as I was saying. Works differently than the spark, or anything you’d be familiar with. That collar is made of shadowstone, a rare material found to have extremely magic-conducive properties. It’s adept at both channeling it, and suppressing it. The purest form of it known was referred to as Gods-Blood. Theorized as such to have been created from the actual transmuted blood of a god. Which is why-”

Revaramek stilled, a chill building in his belly. “From what now?”

Jekk held up a single finger. “Theorized, only. Mostly by people like the Grand Historian who held Vakaal and his father captive. And a few other highly learned but rather far out there scholars. There were…a million theories for how shadowstone was formed, and why some of it was even stronger than others. And one such theory was that one of the older gods, believed to have dwelled for a time on world 5, gave unto the inhabitants the blood of his mortal vessel, forged into something incredibly powerful. There’s even an artefact named after it, a Gods-Blood Box.”

Revaramek flicked his ears back. “You mentioned that before, too.”

“I did.” Jekk nodded once. A smirk twitched at his lips. “And you shut me down. Rightly, mind you, as I sincerely doubt it has anything to do with us. I’m only telling you because I thought you might find it interesting. And you asked.”

Revaramek bowed his head. “I do, and I did. In fact, despite my myriad jests and japes-”

“Now you sound like the tea kettle.”

“Oooh!” Revaramek jerked his head back up, grinning. “Have you started calling him that too?”

Jekk merely shrugged, nonchalant. “Not to his face, anyway.”

“Good man!” Revaramek rumbled his amusement. “Anyway, when time is not of the essence, and my mate isn’t convalescing and awaiting my return, I should like to pick your brain on all this. It makes for some fine tales. For now, though. The short version.”

Jekk narrowed his eyes. “I’ve been trying to give you the short version, but you keep interrupting me to ask follow up questions that further derail the conversation.” When Revaramek remained silence, Jekk cleared his throat, and continued. “As I was attempting to say a short while ago…” He thumped the picture of the collar. “This, I believe, was made of Gods-Blood, the purer form of shadowstone. If the theory about it’s name is true, that would help explain why it was so good at both conducting and suppressing not only world 5’s magic, but our spark as well.” Jekk clasped his hands together, waiting.

Revaramek stared at him, silent.

After a moment, Jekk grunted. “Well?”

The dragon tilted his head. “Well, what?”

“Well, aren’t you going to ask a question?”

Revaramek blinked. “I thought you didn’t want me asking anymore questions?”

Jekk gave a long, slow sigh. “I was expecting you to ask me to explain the ‘why’ of that statement.”

“If you were planning to explain it anyway, then just explain it to me.” Revaramek thumped his tail. “You’re so obtuse sometimes, Jekk.”

Jekk scowled, then muttered something under his breath Rev couldn’t quite catch.

“What was that, old man?”

“Oh, stuff it under your tail, lizard.”

Revaramek turned his head, staring at the image of the collar. “Somehow I rather doubt it would fit.”

Jekk groaned in frustration, waving the dragon off. “I’ll just pretend you’ve asked me why, then, shall I?”

Revaramek looked back and forth between the picture of the collar, and his hind end. “Because that thing’s way to big.”

“Not that!” Jekk threw his hands up. “I don’t know how Mirelle puts up with you, sometimes.”

Revaramek cackled. “That’s easy, Jekk. She doesn’t!”

“Perhaps I should just explain this to her, then.” Jekk folded his arms. “And she can explain to you herself, if she deigns to waste the effort.”

Revaramek laughed a little more, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry, Jekk. I’m just…” The dragon growled to himself, wings twitching. “I’m tightly wound, right now. Everything has me on edge. Especially…” He glanced down the table, towards the books about the desert. “Him. But this?” He gestured at himself with a paw. “This is just how I deal with it, sometimes. By being an asshole.”

Jekk’s face twisted a little. “I can understand that, dragon. But perhaps there are healthier ways to deal with your stress than revert to pissing off everyone around you. Have you tried excessive drinking?”

“I don’t know…” Revaramek rubbed the back of his neck with a forepaw. “Doesn’t seem to do Mirelle any good.”

“Careful now, lizard,” Jekk said, chuckling just a little. “She catches you talking about her that way, and she might be in the market for a new pair of boots.”

Revaramek only snorted. “At this rate, I think their entire generations of cobblers she’s personally kept in business.” He returned his attention to the book spread before them. “Alright, Jekk, I’ll bite. Tell me why the name Gods-Blood may explain why it suppresses the spark.”

“It’s rather self-explanatory, actually.” Jekk flipped the page. Several more drawings of the same collar filled them, each a different angle or visual detail. “If the name is correct, then it’s made from something that was once a direct part of a Creator Deity Level Entity.” His countenance darkened. “That’s a Storyteller term, by the way. Something from the Codex. It’s what they dubbed the original Storyteller their ancestors first encountered, based on his supposed ability to spin life from nothingness. It was theorized that if one could exist, why not two?” Jekk slowly flipped through the pages. “Or, if there was only one, had their ever been another? And if their had been, had it ever made life elsewhere?”

Revaramek splayed his ears. Something cold and unsettled twisted inside his belly. “Jekk, as admittedly fascinating as that line of thinking is, you’re drifting further from shore. You’re supposed to be giving me the short version.”

Jekk held a hand up. “Right you are, Dragon. Following that thread, though…” Jekk stopped on a page with a drawing of a strange, ebony box upon it. Stylized dragons were depicted all around it, bathing the world in flame. “It was theorized that before The Storyteller, there must have been another deity like him. Some believed that deity may even have…” He slowly his gaze up to Revaramek. “Have taken to the dragons, the way Asterbury and his Father had taken to the urd’thin. Perhaps he even built them a world.”

Revaramek’s spines shot up. “Wait, they believed there was a dragon deity?”

Jekk shrugged. “Some believed something like that.”

“But why the hell would such a being make a collar to control dragons?” Revaramek cocked his head, his eyes ridges knitted. “That’d be like if Vakaal’s father made the manacles and shackles to control his own shapers.”

“The belief,” Jekk said, adjusting his sleeves. “And I’ll caution you that it’s only an old theory, was that the original collar was not designed to control dragons, but for dragons to control this.” He tapped the picture of the box. “The so-called Gods-Blood Box. Further believed to be in essence, an engine of creation, given to the dragons by their god. So that, in his absence, should their world know calamity, they could repair it.”

Revaramek’s blood went cold. “That’s why your people went there. To steal what was meant to save their world, and use it for yours, instead.”

Jekk took a slow breath, only to let it back out in a long sigh. “The truth is, we were probably in World 5 long before we ever captured Asterbury.”

Revaramek stared down at the page. “Given someone drew this, I take it they found it.”

“What they found, Dragon…” Jekk’s voice twisted into a ravaged whisper, all fear and quiet dread. “Was calamity. Whatever god may have forged the box and collar was long since departed, and the world was in its death throes.” He reached out, and brushed his fingers across the picture. “Exactly the sort of thing this was intended to fix. But whatever that box and its collar were meant to be, they’d been…” He slowly shook his head. “Twisted, into something terrible. Something they couldn’t stop. So, they took as much shadowstone as they could, captured as many dragons as possible, and abandoned their colonies. And they took to trying to emulate the effects, instead, by forging their own collars with the spark.”

The dragon forced himself to swallow. Everything about Jekk’s words left him ill at ease, despite never once setting foot on that world. “It sounds as if your people simply exported one world’s misfortune to another. Rather a recurring theme with them, isn’t it.”

“Unfortunately so.” Jekk wrung his hands. “Not that you’ve ever wondered why I became so eager to cut ties with them. But learning about things like that always made me even more glad I’d done so.” For a moment, he simply stared out across the horizon, as if relieving some old horror. Eventually, he licked his lips and continued. “Some of this I was taught by the Grand Historian assigned to this colony, as part of my preparation for becoming the Colony Commander. The rest…” Jekk pivoted on his heel, sweeping his hand across the books spread around the plaza. “I’ve learned on my own. While you were gone, I thought it best to immerse myself in the knowledge of my ancestors, if only to further learn from their mistakes. Other things I’ve simply put together myself. As such, I’d caution you one last time that much of what I’ve told you are theories, and nothing more.”

Revaramek smiled, bowing his head to the old man. “And I do appreciate you sharing them all.” He carefully turned a few pages back to the pictures of the collar. “Is that the connection you were going to make? About this thing suppressing our form of magic, and theirs? Because the ones dragons wore were forgeries, made by the spark?”

“Not exactly, but that’s also a fair point to make.” Jekk clasped his hands behind his back. “No, I was going to pose you a query, before I derailed myself.”

“Derailed yourself? Is that what happens when you’ve had a few too many pints, and you-”

“Don’t start, Dragon.” Jekk shot him a glare.

“Oh, very well.” Revaramek arched his neck, indignant. “Go on, then.”

Jekk only snorted. “I planned too. If the theories hold water, then the same god from whose blood these are crafted, also wove magic into that world’s fabric.” Jekk paced a few steps, back and forth. “And in fact, another theory posits that shadowstone is actually the crystalized remains of magic, expended in some great conflict or act, and turned from an essentially invisible aether, into a mineral. Much the way water, when boiled, becomes an invisible gas.”

Revaramek cocked his head. “I’m not sure that’s how minerals are made. I think…” When Jekk glared at him again, Revaramek trailed off. “Right. Theory. Got it.”

“Regardless of the truth of it, it’s assumed that World 5’s magic originated with a deity. And that one way, or another, shadowstone is essentially, a relic of said deity. Now…” Jekk turned towards the dragon, looking like a scholar quizzing a student. “From where did the Spark originate?”

“From The Storyteller, right?”

Jekk merely nodded, smiling.

All at once, it clicked in Revaramek’s head. “Oh! Our spark, and their magic. They’re both powers gifted by the gods.”

“Exactly so. Thus-”

“They might work differently, but in the end they’re fundamentally the same.”

“No, that’s not-”

“They’re like lungs, and gills!” Revaramek stretched a wing, gesturing with it. “They look different, and work differently, but in the end, they’re both used for breathing.”

“No, Dragon, that’s not-”

“One’s for air, and one’s for water,” Revaramek said. “But if you prevent them from working, the owner still dies.”

“Damn it, Dragon.” Jekk rubbed his forehead. “That’s actually not a totally incorrect analogy. But-”

“So it’s the same with World 5’s magic, and our spark. From the sounds of it…” Revaramek patted the book. “Magic is something they can contain, and channel through artefacts like this. And they believe it leaves a crystalized essence, which means it’s an external force. Like say, the rain. Whereas, the spark that we know and use, is contained within us, and we push it out of ourselves to interact with the world. So it’s more like…blood. Or claws, I suppose. Is that about right?”

Jekk scowled. “I’ve heard worse explanations. However-”

“The point is, old man,” Revaramek said, arching his neck. “That it doesn’t matter if its an exterior force, or an interior one. As you said, they’re both powers given by gods. The only difference is in how we interact with them. And either way…” The dragon traced a single pad around the collar. “This thing, prevents that interaction. Doesn’t matter if you’re expending power from within, or guiding power outside yourself, this collar puts a wall between you and magic.”

“That’s…” Jekk’s scowl deepened. “Actually-”

“No, better!” Revaramek clapped his forepaws together. “It’s like a locked door! And magic, or the spark, they’re the house. It doesn’t matter if you’re inside the house, or outside it, because when you have the collar on, you can’t get through the door.”

Jekk slowly inhaled, still frowning. “While I’m not sure if-”

“Wait.” Revaramek tapped a claw tip against his chin. “Would magic be the house, or would you be the house?”

“Will you just shut up for two seconds!” Jekk stomped his foot like a furious toddler. “I’ve been trying to give you a damn compliment for half an hour!”

“Oh!” Revaramek straightened up, arching his neck. “Then proceed.”

Jekk growled through grit teeth. “The moment’s passed.”

“Oh, Jekk!” Revaramek made a plaintive whining noise. “You can’t leave your Benevolent Overlord hanging like that!”

The old man put his hands over his face. “Fine,” he said, his voice muffled. He slowly lowered his hands again. “I was going to say, that while your analogies aren’t totally correct, I am impressed that general idea you’re positing is actually fairly accurate.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that. I can use that as part of my title.” Revaramek lifted a forepaw. “Introducing Your Benevolent Overlord!” He swept his paw across the sky in a grand gesture. “Actually Fairly Accurate!”

Jekk huffed. “I should have known that would backfire.”

“Nonsense, Jekk.” Revaramek mantled his wings. “Complimenting me can never possibly backfire. Now, do you suppose when Vakaal and his father wore them…” Revaramek went quiet when a sudden bustle at the Grand Temple’s entryway drew his attention. He turned his head, watching as a flurry of guards and servants poured out of the front doors. They swept across the plaza, ushering workers away. Revaramek glanced back at Jekk. “Hold that thought.”

Jekk moved up alongside Revaramek. “What do you suppose Enora’s done this time?”

“Found us something useful, with any luck.” Revaramek snorted. “Though, I’d wager she’s more likely found us something mysterious that’ll simply raise more questions than answers.”

Jekk grunted. “Seems to be the way things usually work. Perhaps she’s just gotten herself thrown out.”

Once the plaza nearest the temple was cleared of workers, two va’chaak draped in elaborate sashes and intricate emblems swept out of the Temple. One of them, a female with deep green scales flecked with blue, bounced along with excitement. She hurried to a table, pushing other books aside to a clear a space. The other, a male with unusual bronze scales, shuffled behind her, frustration etched across his pebbly-scaled muzzle and stooped shoulders. He moved to stand alongside the female, adjusted an indigo sash across his shoulder, and then glared at the workers now gawking at him from a distance. He waved at his hand towards them, and his servants tried to push everyone further away.

“What the hell are they doing, Jekk?” Revaramek rose to all fours, but did not yet approach them.

“I’m guessing they’re got something to share they don’t want anyone else to see.” Jekk fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. “Some of the va’chaak believe there are aspects of their histories meant only for their leaders and highest ranking shamans to know. Such knowledge is to be kept from the rest of their people.” Jekk gazed around at all the city workers pushed halfway across the plaza. “And everyone else, from the looks of it.”

Revaramek lifted his frills, grinning. “So, exactly the way you used to run things around here.”

“Hilarious, Dragon.” Jekk’s face twisted. “You know how I’ve come to feel about that. But…” His expression eased. “It’s also not my place to try and press my newly open ways on anyone else.” He waved at the Grand Temple. “We didn’t agree to let them build this here so we could force them to adopt our beliefs, after all.”

Soon, Tavaat emerged from the Grand Temple. As he made his way over to Jekk and the dragon, Mirelle and Kurekka pushed through the crowd to join him. The va’chaak shushed their questions until he reached Revaramek. Once everyone was together, he stood before them to address the group all at once.

“Enora finally did it.” Tavaat grunted, his little red frills all pinned back. “Talked them into showing her some real shit.”

A sly grin parted Revaramek’s muzzle. “I should hope they’ve shown her more than their overflowing latrine, Tavaat.”

“First off, gross.” Tavaat scrunched his muzzle. “Second off, shut up.”

“I concur with Councilman Tavaat.” Jekk shot the dragon a glare.

“Seconded.” Mirelle held a hand up. “Just let him speak, Revaramek.”

Kurekka raised a forepaw. “It’s unanimous! Shut the hell up, dragon.”

Revaramek tossed his head. “Oh, come on. You all know this is how I handle stress!”

Jekk jabbed a finger against the dragon’s chest. “Why don’t you handle keeping your muzzle shut long enough for the Councilman to tell us his findings?”

“Yeah, Rev.” Tavaat growled, just a little. “We all love ya-”

“Some of us more than others.” Jekk crossed his arms.

Tavaat went on. “But we’re all stressed.” He waved a hand around the plaza. “We ain’t all up here, pourin’ over old books all day, because everything’s fine and everyone’s worry-free. If you got sand gods comin’ to threaten you, believe it or not, that affects all of us. I know you wanna be this big hero that does everything himself, but you ain’t the only one here.” He glanced at Mirelle. “If you lot all go off and get yerselves killed out in the desert, how the hell you think that’s gonna make the rest of us feel? You think we ain’t stressed? You think she ain’t scared?” He jerked his thumb at Mirelle. “You think me and her don’t wanna go drink ourselves stupid and forget all this sand god shit for a while?” Tavaat snarled as Mirelle nodded her agreement. “Of course we do! But instead, we’re up here in the heat, sober as shit, trying to help you figure out what you’re up against. So the least you could do is shut the hell up and let us tell you what we’ve found.”

Jekk loudly cleared his throat. “Here, here.”

Ravaramek withered a little, hanging his head. “You’re right.” His wings drooped at his sides. “I’m sorry, I’ve been…a bit of an ass.” He looked around at everyone, ears back. “Well, more than usual, I mean.”

Tavaat rubbed his muzzle, sighing. “It’s alright, Rev. Look, I shouldn’t be takin’ it out on you, like that. I’m sorry, too. It’s just-”

“Revaramek!” A familiar voice cut across the plaza as Enora emerged from the Temple. Behind her, hurried a third va’chaak in ceremonial regalia, carrying a handful of leatherbound scroll cases. “You need to see this.”

Tavaat pointed towards her. “Just go. See what I just saw.”

Mirelle put a hand against Rev’s shoulder. “Come on, Rev.”

The dragon straightened up, and shook himself. “Very well.”

Revaramek led the small group across the plaza towards Enora. Clad in a formal golden dress embossed with black, she cut an imposing figure. Elegant silver bracelets decorated her wrists. A few fresh streaks of gray marked her hair these days, yet her appearance remained as familiar to Revaramek as ever. He had, after all, known her for much of his life. As they approached Enora, she squeezed her way in between the two va’chaak alongside the table, ignoring the male’s irritated glare.

“Here, put them here.” Enora waved the third va’chaak forward, gesturing at the table.

“Yes, Ambassador, I know where they’re going.” The scroll-carrying va’chaak’s tone sounded somewhere between the first two, bemused but also slightly uncomfortable with the whole situation. “You want them in the same order?”

“Please.” Enora ever so gently nudged the other two aside to make more room. “You really didn’t have to put them back in their cases just to walk them outside.”

“Yes,” said the first male, snapping his teeth. “We did. They’re not to be seen by those…” He turned around, staring up at Revaramek. “Oh, never mind.” The lizard shook a clawed finger at the dragon. “But you’re not to touch them. They’re delicate. You will allow us to do so, or at most, Ambassador Enora. Understood?”

Revaramek stopped near the table, shrugging his wings. “I don’t even know what I’m here to see. But I promise, I won’t touch it.”

“Good.” The va’chaak swept his gaze across the rest of Revaramek’s friends. “That goes for the rest of you, too. These are sacred relics, that you are by no means authorized to-”

“You’re not even supposed to see them!” The excitable female whirled around, her washes fluttering. She beamed, her frills up and teeth on display. “But you’ve been granted permission by the High Shaman, due to extenuating circumstances. But no touching! I will handle the relics on your behalf.”

The male sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I just told them they’re not allowed to touch anything.”

The female spun back around just as quickly. “You were using too many words. My name is Naka! Dragon and Gryphon, you may stand behind me. The rest-”

“You know, Naka,” Kurekka said, clacking his beak. “We have names too. Mine is-”

“Shaman Naka, and I know who you all are, Councilmember Kurekka.” Naka glanced over her shoulder, trying to fight back her smile. “But I’m trying to act as if I’m not enjoying myself.” She lowered her voice to a playful whisper. “I’ll get in trouble with Shaman Bozar.” She made a quick show of pointing to the grumpy male lizard, and pretending to hide the gesture. “That’s Shaman Bozar.”

Bozar simply groaned, folding his hands together. “Just get on with it.”

The va’chaak with the scrolls placed them on the table, glancing at Naka. “You need any help?”

Naka shook her head. “No thank you. Just make sure no one slips past the guards to sneak a peek.”

“As you wish.” He grunted, moving back to make room.

Naka delicately picked up the first scroll case. “As I was saying. Revaramek, Councilmember Kurekka, please stand behind me, as you can see over me. Head Councilwoman Mirelle, Councilman Jekk, please stand alongside me. Councilman Tavaat, you’ve already seen them.” She smirked at the gryphon. “Told you I know who you are.”

Kurekka gave a irritable squawk. “Never doubted you.”

As everyone moved into position, Naka carefully opened the case. She gradually withdrew not a scroll or parchment, but a finely woven tapestry. Frayed ends and threads here and there belied its age, but it otherwise appeared to be in remarkable condition. As she unrolled it upon the table, vibrant colors sprang into view. Deep sapphire blues, fiery reds, and emerald greens balanced darker tones and ashen grays. The weaving was of exceptional work, with myriad tiny threads producing a high level of intricacy and detail. When it was fully unveiled, Revaramek sucked in a breath. Alongside him, Jekk cursed and looked away. There, at the center of the image, was an urd’thin who was suddenly all too familiar.

Revaramek glanced at Jekk. “Is that him?”

Jekk nodded once, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s him. That’s Vakaal’s father.”

“Holy shit,” Mirelle said, running a hand back through her hair. “Why is he on a va’chaak historical tapestry? And…” She leaned forward. “Is that what I think it is?”

In the image, the urd’thin was depicted as standing amidst a verdant forest, beneath a gorgeous blue sky. Yet behind him loomed a mountain wreathed in fire. Flames shot from it, into the sky, and plumes of ash poured down its slopes. Smoke churned above it, threatening to blot out the cerulean expanse above. Va’chaak were shown on both sides of the urd’thin, kneeling as if supplication, or plea for help. The urd’thin’s arms were outstretched, sheltering them.

Kurekka clicked his beak. “That’s a damn volcano.” He glanced around at the others, then at Naka. “Is that not a damn volcano?”

Naka clicked her tongue in her muzzle. “I am not allowed to interpret or explain.” She worked the second case open. “Only to display.”

“It’s a volcano.” Enora pointed to the image. “And I thought that was probably him, but…” She stared at Revaramek for a few moments, then looked to Jekk. “You two are the only ones I know who’ve met him. So I was hoping you’d recognize him.”

Jekk wrung shaking hands. “As I told the dragon, I could never forget him. Even in a tapestry, the likeness is all too striking.”

Mirelle scowled at the image. “That’s some of the most detailed embroidery I’ve ever seen.”

Naka offered her a smile. “It’s an old artform we practice. Out in the marsh, we find such artwork lasts far longer than anything drawn on parchment or painted on canvas ever will. Are you ready to see the next one?”

“That’s a volcano!” Kurekka squawked, his red-tipped crown feathers rising. “Does no one else realize the significance of this? We don’t have volcanos in the marsh. Hell, I’ve only seem them in books, or heard about them from people like…” His ears splayed. “Hell, from people like Asterbury. So why the hell do the va’chaak have a picture of his father protecting them from a volcano?”

Naka’s smile faded. “Again, I’m not allowed to interpret or-”

“Just show them the next image, please.” Enora gently patted her shoulder. Then she turned her attention to the gryphon. “We’ll get to that.”

Naka unrolled the second tapestry. It was a little larger than the first, and its colors less vivid, a little more uniform. Nonetheless, it was just as detailed as the first. It once again depicted the same urd’thin. This time, he was shown at the head of a large group of va’chaak, walking through lands that appeared to be transitioning from forest, to marsh. Some of followers appeared ill, shown as hunched over, or with unusually pale scales, being supported by their kin. Ahead of them, the urd’thin pointed towards a towering hill in the distance, as if indicating their destination.

“It’s their pilgrimage.” Jekk reached towards the image. “When they arrived-OW!” He yelped and jerked his hand back when Naka swatted it.

“No touching!” Naka shook a clawed finger at him.

Jekk shook his hand, grimacing. “Sorry, sorry.”

Revaramek flattened his frills, looking from Jekk to the woven picture, and back again. “You’re saying Vakaal’s father led the va’chaak pilgrimage? To their hill...” Revaramek lifted his head, gazing around. “To this hill?”

“Certainly looks that way.” Jekk reached out again, slower this time, simply pointing. “And here, see this? They’re sick. The first plague may have struck during their travels. Or maybe not truly a plague, at all, but some malady inflicted by inhaling the volcano’s ash. History might not remember the difference, after all.”

Revaramek clenched his jaws. None of this quite made sense, and it left the dragon even more unsettled than before. “That’s a possibility. But why the hell would he be the one to lead them here?”

Enora glanced at Naka. “Just show them the last one.”

The va’chaak nodded once. “As you wish.”

Everyone waited in anxious silence as Naka unsealed the last scroll case, and delicately retrieved the final weaving. She spread it out across the table with slow, deliberate movements. It was the most frayed of all three, but the colors remained vibrant, the details clearly defined. This time the image on display was cleanly divided down the middle. On the right side, there was destruction. Trees burned, fiery stones reined from the sky, the earth cracked open. On the left side lay a serene, all-too-familiar marsh. And right in the middle, a black circle, glittering with blue bolts and outlined in brilliant light.

The same urd’thin stood in the center, his arm reaching through the black circle, hand emerging on the other side. Behind him, the ruinous half of the image was filled with people of all kinds. Not only were there va’chaak crowding around the urd’thin, but more of his species, as well. Beyond them were others, some of which Revaramek did not even recognize. Dragons and gryphons circled in the skies above. Meanwhile, the peaceful marsh was almost completely empty. Just beyond the urd’thin’s hand, a singular va’chaak gazed up, as if in wonder. A solitary gryphon and a lone dragon were shown flying far above.

Revaramek’s stomach dropped into his tail when he realized what he was seeing. “That’s a gate. That’s a gods-damned gate.”

Jekk swallowed, rubbing his forehead. “It sure as hell looks like it.”

Enora gently set a hand upon Revaramek’s foreleg. “Now you know why you needed to see it.”

“But why the hell...” Kurekka trailed off, tilting his head. “Why is he bringing gryphons through a gate?”

“Rev…” Mirelle stumbled back, then caught her balance alongside the dragon. “Please, please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it means.”

The dragon lowered his head. “I think we’re all having the same thought.”

Kurekka lifted a slightly trembling paw. “Pretend I’m not. Elucidate me.”

Revaramek took a slow, deep breath. “It’s just a guess, but…if this image is so meaningful to the va’chaak they won’t even let their people see it, then…”

“Then you’re probably right.” Jekk peered around the dragon, fixing his gaze on Kurekka. “Think about it, Councilmember. Before the Storytellers ruined everything, what was it that Vakaal and his father were doing, out in that dead desert?”

The gryphon tilted his head. “Restoring it?”

“Close enough.” Revaramek swept his paw across the populated side of the image. “They were bringing life…” Slowly, he trailed his fingers through air above the gate, and over the open space beyond. “Into an empty world.”

“But that’s…” Kurekka stared at it. “That’s the marsh.” He turned his head, gazing back at the other two tapestries. His eyes settled on the distant hill, in the image of the pilgrimage. “That’s…our marsh.”

“Yes.” Revaramek swallowed hard. “Yes, I think it is.”

“But…” Kurekka looked up at Revaramek. Fearful understanding slowly dawned in his eyes. He knew what that meant, even if he did not wish to admit it to himself. The gryphon slowly flattened his ears. “But our marsh isn’t empty.”

Revaramek tilted his head, struggling to sort through the implications. “Not anymore, anyway.”

“Let’s all be perfectly clear.” Mirelle stepped forward, reaching for the weaving, only to stop when Naka barred her way. She looked around at everyone else, instead. “We’ve all come to the same conclusion, right? That…” She scrunched her face, struggling even to say it. “That somehow, it was Vakaal’s father who first populated the marsh with the other species, before the storytellers found it?”

Jekk combed trembling fingers through his beard. “That would certainly explain why they all hated us so much, right from the beginning.”

“That, and the-” Revaramek snapped his jaws shut. He’d almost said, attempted genocide. But those were the sins of Jekk’s ancestors, more than his own. More to the point, those were wounds that were finally starting heal, for everyone. “That it would, Jekk.”

Jekk looked away, but Revaramek still caught the pain shining in his eyes. The old man cleared his throat, then wrung his bony hands. “This is…a hell of a revelation, if it’s true. We’d always just assumed the other species had always been here. We’d never have guessed they might all be descended from refugees of…” He waved his hand. “Other worlds.” He jerked his head up, pivoting towards the images. “Wait a minute.”

“I don’t quite understand.” Kurekka clacked his beak. “He was a god, right? If he wanted to populate the marsh, couldn’t he have just-”

“Everyone dies, Revaramek.” Jekk thrust his finger towards the volcano in the first image. Then he pointed at those who were sick in the second. “Everyone dies.” Finally, he gestured at the devastation on the left side of the last picture. “Everyone dies.”

Revaramek sucked in a breath. “He’s saving them.” Quickly, he glanced at Jekk, and then back to the images. “He wouldn’t save your people, because…”

“Because we did it to ourselves. Because we ended our own story.”

“But they didn’t.” Revaramek stretched a wing tip towards the depiction of the volcanic eruption. “They had nothing to do with it. Just bad luck.”

The sand god’s voice drifted through his mind, lonely, broken, and bitter. There is a balance, to all things. Forced upon us by cold, unfeeling stars.

“They were meant to die.” He swept his wing across the three tapestries. “They were all meant to die, and instead, he brought them here.”

Again, the urd’thin’s voice echoed through Revaramek’s head. This isn’t the world you think it is, either. You’ve always known it was special, but you’ve no idea why.

“What…?” Revaramek slowly backed away from everyone. He turned a slow circle, gazing at the world around him as if seeing it anew for the first time. “What is this place?”

“Rev?” Mirelle spun towards him. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s not just the marsh, or the desert, Mirelle.” The dragon tilted his head back, staring at the sky as though to scrutinize the stars that lay beyond. “He told me the world itself was special. And he feared I was going to ruin it.” Slowly, his eyes sank back to the image of the urd’thin, guiding refugees through the gate. “How long has he been here?”

Kurekka lifted a forepaw. “Is it possible he’s been, and gone? If he could use gates, perhaps he left for a time?” He waggled his fingers. “After all, Asterbury spent many years here, with Aylaryl and…” He flattened his ears, glancing at Enora. “Us.”

Enora winced, rubbing her arm. “He’s right. Surely if his father was here, he would have come to see his son. As powerful as they are, I’d have thought they’d have…” She shrugged. “Sensed each other, or something.”

Revaramek licked his nose. “I think Asterbury would have given almost anything to see his father again. But then…” His gaze lingered on the image of the urd’thin deity. “How long ago was that? When did he leave? Has he returned again, or did I meet someone else entirely?”

“I honestly wish I could offer you answers,” Jekk said, fidgeting with his sleeve. “But while we have a lot of books left to go through, I sincerely doubt we’re going to find anything that explains…” His trailed off, then waved at the three weavings. “This.”

“No, Jekk.” Revaramek shook his head. “You’re absolutely right. There’s only one person who can give us answers, now.” Revaramek lifted a forepaw, and unsheathed a single claw. He pointed it at the god, opening the gate. “Him.”

Jekk scowled. “You’re absolutely sure you want to be face to face with him again?”

“Not in the least.” Revaramek shivered, his spines standing on end. “But once we reach his desert, I doubt he’s going to give me a choice.”