The Heir Apparent pt.4

Breathing deeply, I put aside thoughts of the creature, even as it clung gently to my chest. This expedition was the summation of two decades of work, I had come this far, with not even the desperate tribals who resided in the north were willing to venture this close to the Plaguelands. I overlooked the site of my ritual, now a rough circle of burned plant-life. Respecting the significance of this moment, I allowed myself to savour it.

Alone, I stood, at the top of the world. Far above the distant sounds of nature, the silence, both haunting and beautiful. The constructs defied explanation, on the inside they resembled a man-made buildings, with connected rooms separated by doors and stairwells, but on the outside they appeared to grow like plants that stand as tall as mountains and even sturdier. While the insides of even long uninhabited constructs remained clean and well maintained, the exterior of the Cathedral had long since been been reclaimed by nature. Flora that could survive at this altitude was limited but those that could flourished, battling for supremacy and sunlight, the fallen providing fertiliser for the survivors.

Older than recorded history, were the constructs. Brothers to the mountains and the seas, my grandfather had said. The pious pointed to the gods for their origins, while scholars argued between alien civilisations and symbiotic evolution intrinsically linked to human magic. I had come here seeking to prove the latter. The Cathedral, I predicted, was significant to the macro-ecology of the constructs. My hypothesis was that the constructs were living creatures and with with enough magic, my ritual would attune me to the cathedrals life force.

In the spot where I had been overcome was where I knew I would find it. Approaching the blackened scar as I moved closer I saw the thick layers of plants had been utterly incinerated leaving behind a crater like portal to the Cathedral’s exoskeleton. I climbed down into the centre, the impossibly perfect external wall unscathed still by tarnish, burn or nature. Reaching out my hand. Buzzing with anticipation I placed my palm on the smooth, cool surface.

“Welcome, Diana”

Author: Zairron

I'm writing to build a habit, practice, and be creative.

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