Somewhere Someplace

Dark. It was very dark. The only source of light was Hathway's oil-lamp which he had as part of his standard equipment. Novea, however, being the one doing the leading, was the one who had been given the lamp, albeit she had to hand her ammunition bag to Hathway in order to free up that hand. Nevertheless, it illuminated the space around sufficiently, although not necessarily the way ahead.

But Novea seemed to know her way either way.

"Deh…" Hathway, following along next to Antica, had a cold sweat drip down his cheek. "Heaven's Light… I've heard of these places before, but have never been in one…" He turned to Novea who was leading them in front. " 'Catacomb', you called this place, right? Which I assume means… ‹[catacomb]› or the like in…my tongue."

"Yeah…" Novea glanced, her bland eyes hidden behind her mask. "Nice. You were paying attention. Yes. We are in an ancient elvish catacomb—as I have said."

Indeed. An ancient and underground 'catacomb'; that was where they were in and had been within for…who even knew how long, albeit it was not that long. They had entered from purportedly one of several secretive entrance-holes that were located well outside the stone walls; these underground catacombs themselves spanned into Outer Grandberry although not the proper city itself.

Antica, naturally, had found herself evaluating the random details around as she so silently strolled along. She had already become somewhat curious of this 'Grandberry' locality due to it being such a stark peculiarity compared to other denizen settlements she had been to heretofore. Yet somehow this labyrinth of a so-called 'catacomb' had to be even more bizarre.

Narrow, tight, with a squeezing sense and the ceiling being too close to their heads, the halls and chambers they had been passing through were all seemingly made from…bones—many bones, with columns and rows of skulls especially.

The immediate discernible features of the skulls seemed to indicate most likely aelviforms. Granted, without proper and comprehensive forensic analysis, it could be quite…difficult to separate an aelviform's skull from that of a 'standard' human's—the differences were minor, albeit depending on exact special—as in 'species'—designation. So, she was really just guessing—or rather, the 'aelvenity' was only more apparent because Novea had already explicitly mentioned that these were, indeed, ancient elves.

Nevertheless, there was something awfully uneasy about this place, and not even because it was made of bones. It was a different sensation, hard to comprehend; one that had hit her the moment they had stepped down here… Her essence, it was coming from her essence.

"Are you certain we are the only ones down here?" Hathway asked, his voice seeming uneased.

"Yes." Novea, however, seemed quite the opposite. "Barely anyone knows this place even exists; it was a closely secured scared ground… And even if anyone did know, they wouldn't be able to find their way without guidance. It is so easy to get lost down here and starve to death."

"Perhaps…" Yet Hathway remained skeptical… "But that 'hidden entrance' did not seem so hidden…" Indeed, that pillar of an entry was quite obvious in retrospect. "And if you have managed figure out your way, then surely others could and had…"

"I didn't figure out anything." Novea was bland, glancing at him; "I only know the way because another Raven guided me, and she was guided by another." She returned her head to the darkness ahead. "The knowledge of these catacombs is not a Bureau-thing, it is a Raven-thing…passed down. This place is a tomb to millions, constructed during the Collapse."

Antica tilted her head… "Millions?" She had to contemplate that word for a second; she knew what it meant, 'millions', but rarely had she heard such a large number in the local tongue. "Was this…from a single…thing or were these…millions of bones accumulated through time?"

"Both." Novea replied, frank. "From my understanding, at least… Granted, not much is really known about the ancient elves; they were gone well before Old Huckleberry conquered and sacked the old city." she explained; "But from what is known and what has been passed down… During the early days of the Collapse, most of everyone did not immediately adjust or…comprehend the change. It was the Legendary Age of Smiles, so there were no famines or plagues or strife or war…or struggle; death only came from age. They were not used to the idea that their towns or villages were no longer safe; that you had to build walls; that so many people could die in mass."

"So…" Antica was trying to parse that… Interesting information, perhaps, at least for local denizen mythology, but it did not necessarily answer her question.

"She is effectively conveying," Hathway interposed himself, "that so many died so quickly that it shocked them; they lacked the infrastructure or means. Starting with a single instance of mass death which had left far more bodies than they could handle, they buried the dead here and made this the tomb of all the victims."

"Huh…" Novea eyed him again. "That is…actually not too far off. Was that a genius guess or?"

"Not really." Hathway replied; "As I mentioned, I have heard of these places before. Similar 'catacombs' have been discovered… But before then, it was mentioned in the… I guess, 'Book of Armageddon'? Would be the way to say it in this tongue."

"Trinitarian scripture?" Novea tilted her head.

"Yes." He nodded. "The Holy Scriptures make a frequent mention to what is known as 'the First Armageddon'—what you call 'the Great Collapse'. It was said that the desperate pleas, the mass suffering, of innocents during that era was what had led to the manifestation, or revelation, of the Father, God in Heaven, and His binding Spirit… Mercy for the victims; judgement against evil; and forgiveness for the damned; for all had been damned and all had been convicted."

"Huh…" Novea had to process that; "Alrightly… Are you certain these are even the same events? That's very weird; that Trinity's Scripture would reference Smile's Fall even if by a different name—since, you know, it happened in our land, and there isn't any connection between us."

"Hm. Central might have forgotten, but remember that in the calendar of the West, it is AE 1792—Anno Exilii." Hathway remarked.

« Anno…exilliî? » Antica had heard that. "By the, or… In the…year of the exile?" she translated, guessing the appropriate preposition.

"Ah, yes…" Hathway looked at her; "Speaking of forgetfulness, I nearly forget that your own tongue is related."

« Fortasșe relattae sont lénguae. Sed utra primù façhita erat? Élla mea vel élla tua? » Antica replied, effectively asking the linguistic equivalent to… 'Which had come first? The chicken or the egg?'

"But, yes," Hathway, likely not understanding, ignored that, "Anno Exilii. Year of Our Exile. According to the Scripture, Book Refugium Veterum, our forebearers descended from the first worshippers of the Father in Heaven, 'Cultores Patris Caeli', who were greatly persecuted in 'Terra Oriunda', or their 'originating land', which was told to be 'Medio Mundi'—'at the center of the world'."

"Oh, this…" Novea, realizing, sighed…

"One thousand and seven hundred and ninety-two years ago, according to the calendar; that was when they were…'kicked to the ocean' by what were labeled 'Dei Vetusti', the 'Old Gods'." Hathway, however, continued; "But, Sanctissimus Vir, a great Holy Man, received a vision forewarning of impending extermination and was instructed to gather all of the Father's remaining worshippers and construct Arca Refugii, the Ark. They fled across Magnus Oceanus, where they would arrive to what the Father declared 'Patria Vestra', 'your homeland'. But the Holy Man had to stay behind, sacrificing himself to satiate the wrath of the Old Gods so that the Ark could sail in peace; in doing so, he cleansed the forebearers of their past and wrongs, and the Father ascended him to become His Son, Filius Rexque Terrae, forming Trinity." Such was merely one denominational variation of this fable, at least.

Stolen novel; please report.

"…I am terribly confused." Antica was, indeed, terribly confused.

Novea giggled, glancing at her. "Ahem, sorry," she did not mean to break character, "no, but… You don't have to understand that. It's just Far West babble. Babble debunked by the fact that we"—she looked at him—"have actually spoken to angels from Heaven, and they don't seem to have ever known our land or gods existed." Although Novea admittedly had genuine sympathies towards Trinitarianism, her institutional competitiveness was the dominant behavioral influencer presently.

"These aren't coincidences." Hathway was quick to speak. "Most of the evidence points to your continent—"

"Look, you might call us the 'Central Continent'," yet Novea interjected, "but your own maps show our land as not even being 'in the center of the world'. We are pretty above the equator and to the left." She was being a contrarian.

"The center of a map is relative, but this continent is intermediate with respect to most." Hathway stated. "But my point is, you yourself should be aware of your shared history with the New World, and we have discovered similar mythos throughout the Far East and the other major lands, each speaking of an origin from, reverence of, or simple reference to a 'centerland'."

"Well, yeah…" Novea acknowledged; "But we've corroborated those stories. Both the elves of here and high elves of the New World have tales of a 'great flight' across a 'great ocean', and we long already knew that there were purportedly 'wise' and 'good' dragons who had fled 'somewhere' during the Collapse, and we now know the Far East is that 'where'."

"So, you recognize those associations but reject any with the West?" Hathway pointed out.

"Those have been corroborated." Novea stressed. "And, I mean, it's not like the Far Easterners discovered our lands because of an explicit hope to 'find the dragon's ancestral home', whereas you Far Westerners only showed up looking for fucking spices!" she stated on, slightly combative. "I remember reading this. In the decades after contact, we saw oceanic pilgrimages from dwarves and elves of the New World trying to reconnect with their 'ancestor lands'… You Far Westerners on the other hand? Again: butt-fucking us for our gold mines."

"I see your tongue is certainly of the Guild's." Hathway could only reply, unable to address her…principal point. After all, nothing she had said was necessarily wrong even if hyperbolic.

Novea exhaled, realizing she was becoming perhaps too heated over nothing… "Look… The Bureau has been documenting for thousands of years, and things get lost easily in the librarian mess. I only know what I know, alrightly? Maybe if I dug, I could find something to corroborate, but until then… I don't know what to conclude." She sighed… "Besides, by the end of it all, does it really matter if somehow someway everyone everywhere had all originated from here? When…we cannot be any more different from one another, each of our lands… We're all aliens."

"Perhaps that is true…" Hathway acknowledged; "Though, we have more in common than you think, and not only Central and the West. We all do. In each and every land, you'll find the same patterns repeating over and over; the same struggles."

"Ugh. Spare me the Charlist monologue, legionnaire…" Novea was still no less friendlier. "…no offense."

Hathway went quiet for a moment, perhaps having realized… "I apologize, madam…" he proceeded to apologize; "It wasn't my intention to have a heavy debate over...mysteries. I was just trying to distract from the fact we are walking through this…tomb of bones."

Novea sighed… "Yeah, I get it. And I wasn't trying to be so dismissive or anything, it's just…the world is weird." Very weird, indeed, their world was. "Thanks for apologizing, though." He did not have to nor need to, but he had. That alone, to her, placed him higher up in the 'rankings', so to speak, of Far Westerners.

« … » Antica meanwhile was still so terribly confused. It seemed she was missing quite the many necessary pre-understandings and essential contexts to make any of this information navigable, let alone digestible.

This discussion over, they continued venturing forth, further into this abyss of bones and skulls. Yet with no talking to distract, Hathway only seemed to become more uneased. Indeed, it was difficult to keep track of where they were, where they had come, or where they were going beyond 'forwards'… Never mind that he was experiencing this strange sense that…

"I do not mean to reask this, Raven," Hathway turned his sight to the leading Raven, "but…you are absolutely certain that there is nothing else down here?"

"Yes." And Novea so stressed again.

"But I feel that we are not the only ones down here…" yet Hathway remarked; "It's like there is something in the distance, I cannot explain it." This hardened veteran was not one to be typically unsettled or superstitiously fearful, minded.

"You're mistaking shadows." Novea was blunt.

Antica, however, had noticed the weight in Hathway's voice. "Hm… Thus, you are feeling weirdly?" Her mask-obscured cyanic eyes glanced his way. "I suppose that I have been feeling strange also." she decided to say; "I cannot describe it, though."

Indeed, Antica herself was still with that same…strange…almost uneased feeling deep down within, one that had only heightened or…grown in apparentness…the further they had gone… As if her essence was…inferring or…noticing…something haunting in the background.

"Huh?" Novea meanwhile turned and stared… Wait, now her too? "Look," she began to say, returning her attention to the way ahead, "it's not like I am not also getting weird feelings. They're common in places like here; it's easy to fall for the tricks of shadows."

"Hm… That is very true." Hathway acknowledged; "We are surrounded by millions of skulls and bones; it could just be an unsettling illusion…"

Indeed, such was a legitimate possibility. However, Antica was…nominally immune to such psychological factors. She had observed a million far worser sights; she, or more particularly her essence, should not be 'unsettled' by mere skulls and bones. This sense had to be indicative of something…deeper, yet… It was hard to specify, elaborate, or properly feel, considering that such was emanating primarily from her essence.

And considering that certain abomination was presently watching, it was also entirely possible that this was simply a misconstruing of its active presence… Indeed, its perpetual shroud of ambiguity that clouded both sense and analysis… However, she considered this unlikely; her and her essence had long already 'tuned out', so to speak, that Calamitous nothingness, its presence being a near constant.

This 'unsettled' sensation, on the other hand, was new, having only emerged after she entered down here… Yet beyond this vague and nebulous unease, there was at least no inference or detection of 'threat' or 'danger', only 'weird'.

Being what she was, of course, she could speculate potential implications… Yet for whatever reason, it was difficult for her to thoroughly focus or provide appropriate attention…with these two denizens being around—their denizenness denizenifying her brain, it was as if… Although, this could also be due to her having not slept for a whole week.

"Yeah, again," Novea thus reiterated, "there is nobody else down here besides us. Anything else are just illusions of shadows or ghosts."

Hm… Wait. 'Ghosts', Novea had just said? Interesting local word, the exact meaning of which was blanking in Antica's head even though she knew very well what such were—in her own tongues.

"Anyway, Halfway." In a sudden transition, Novea abruptly turned a corner and walked slightly faster. "Your constant distractions have worked." She paused before some kind of wall, one not made of bone.

Yet this was no wall.

"Here we are." Novea thus turned to the two standing behind. "This is the room, the one I myself was guided to before. We're now directly under Outer Grandberry, near the ruins of the old elves' burial…building…temple…place…" She felt embarrassed for not knowing what to precisely call it, despite her 'expertise'. Aheming, she hit a hidden latch or switch of sorts; that supposed 'wall' then split opened in a dusty rumble, revealing an empty chamber.

"…I shall wait here, then." Hathway stated, hesitant but having no choice.

"Yeah, obviously." Novea belittled, though she then proceeded to so courteously return his oil-lamp. "There are lamps in there, so… Here. You'll need this back. Should ease your nerves, being in the light."

"Rightly…" Hathway accepted his oil-lamp back. "And here you are." He handed Novea her ammunition bag in turn. "Get her sorted and readied, fast and swift."

"We'll be as quick as she wants to be…" Novea was frank.

"I cannot guarantee the 'quickness'." Antica herself replied. "Though, I understand that you are patient."

"Hm. Oh, that's right for sure…" Hathway replied; "Perhaps too patient for a curious cat, let alone an enigma." His voice seemed more…casual. "Just don't stumble upon anything hidden in there… Heaven above knows you've been delayed enough."

"I only act according to what I deem to be important and necessary." Antica was perhaps giving herself too much credit. "Thus, I will report what I think is important."

"And I am telling you that nothing you stumble upon would be important." Hathway was casually frank.

"Hm. But how would that be determined if it is not reported firstly?" Antica so replied. "Or, perhaps, it is that you have become scared of standing behind doors in the darkness?"

"Uhm…" Novea, meanwhile, had found herself in Antica's prior position of being terribly confused as to what these two were suddenly on about… But the way they were suddenly talking to each other…

For whatever reason, she did not like it.

"Anywayy," Novea interruptingly ahemed as she turned to Antica, nudging and tugging, "let's get you sorted!" She effectively pulled Antica into the chamber, Antica obliging, after which the chamber's hidden door so swiftly shut closed, …silent.

Hathway was thus left alone with this illuminating lamp, quiet. He stood there, back facing that that hidden door, seeing that both left and right were abysses of darkness and bones… Despite his best efforts to remain stoic, he only felt even more uneased now that he was alone. It was as if shadows were staring back into him, wandering astray with wonders of who he was.

«[I should've brought my gun…]» He simply muttered, remaining calm and patient.