The fallen City: Chapter Two

It didn’t take Tharos long to reach what he considered his house; well, it was more like a massive tower complex than an actual house. But it was home to him, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really mattered. Despite the faint glow of moonlight guiding him through the winding streets, in this city’s heyday, the streets would have been brightly lit by the lights emanating from the windows of many houses and buildings or by lamplights fuelled by magic. Only a small subset of the many inhabitants who once called this great city home preferred to live their lives in the shadows of the moon rather than in the light of the sun. Among these people were weary travellers from distant lands and races unknown to the city’s inhabitants. They included individuals of questionable reputation who lurked in the shadows, often preying upon the naive or gullible. There were also sacred prostitutes, men and women from the various temples dedicated to the more sensual and erotic aspects of life, who were willing to fulfil the primal desires of those who sought their services.

His legs felt heavy with every step, as if heavy weights were tied to them, dragging him down. This level of exhaustion was unfamiliar to him, even during his youth when his body and mind were pushed to the limits. He spent countless waking days and nights training in the art of war and politics. However, the exhaustion he felt back then paled in comparison to what he was experiencing now. In fact, ever since he had become like this, exhaustion or even feeling tied down was something he no longer experienced. But this was different. It wasn’t the physical exhaustion from exertion or mental exhaustion from deep thought. It was a weariness of existence, a tiredness of life that had accumulated over time. However, he thought that a weariness of life itself was a contradiction at best and an unsolvable paradox at worst. Every living person or creature, no matter what they might say, desires to live for as long as possible, right up until their last moments when the light leaves their eyes, their breath stills, and their body slumps to the ground like a puppet whose strings have been cut. It was a sight he had seen many times, a sight that would bring him both great joy and great sorrow. He recalled the older elves he had encountered during his travels, some of whom had a term for this feeling.

Elven Grief.

While this was a simplified translation of the term, it was challenging to find the right words in the human language. No language seemed to have the capacity to fully capture the intense emotions associated with the term. Even his native tongue, with all its linguistic sophistication, fell short. The emotions that humans experienced were nothing compared to the depth of emotions felt by elves. He pondered if he was undergoing a similar experience, as there was much about his current condition that remained unknown to him. He had lost a significant portion of his strength and found himself bound to the city. There was a magical barrier preventing him from leaving, and even if he managed to push past this barrier by a few inches, it only resulted in excruciating pain that tore at his body. It was like being caught in a whirlwind of glass shards, while his limbs were being dragged down by heavy chains. He was unable to leave.

There is still so much I don’t know.

His expression darkened as he absorbed the statement, and soon he reached his intended destination. The building in front of him was a tall, multi-story structure adorned with the symbol of a large eye carved into the stone and surrounded by a walled courtyard. The front of the building featured what was once a lovely, well-tended garden with many flowers and a small water fountain in the centre. The flowers had long since withered, and in the stone fountain, no water flowed, only dust or rusty brown sludge. A stone pathway led to the front door. The back of the building was much wider and longer, with a massive, wide-open space marked only by a stone floor. Like the temple, it was well-maintained to the best of his abilities, given his limited knowledge of practical skills like carpentry. While reading could provide a broad understanding of a subject, there was a certain irreplaceable value in hands-on experience. Practical knowledge offered a level of nuance that books alone could not provide, allowing one to truly grasp a concept through first-hand experience.

As he pushed open the main door and walked to his room, he passed numerous rooms and corridors in the building. Faint whispers and the sound of chisels on stone tablets filled the air, echoing in his mind. Whenever he tried to locate the source of the sounds, he only found empty hallways and rooms, some untouched for millennia. The only sounds breaking the silence were his echoing footsteps and soft, slow breathing. he felt a sense of comfort in this building, his home in the city. As he ascended the stairs to his room, he couldn’t help but wonder why this place felt so right to him.

The room was spacious, adorned with wooden furniture, shelves overflowing with books, scrolls, and stone tablets. A large bed dominated the space, while a worn-in chair and desk occupied a corner. he removed his armour, placed his weapons by the bedside, and changed into his night robes, revealing his well-built physique. His broad shoulders, toned chest, and agile limbs spoke of his skill as a swordsman. Seated at his desk, he studied a detailed map of the city, marked with locations and movements. In his mind, he pondered the mysteries of the city and his place within it.

There was a pattern to these treasure hunters, they always came in from the south gate. They always camped near the temple and the sorcerer tower. They might be utilising these locations as points of interest and landmarks, perhaps I can leverage this to my benefit? Make it easier to ambush them, yes.

He thought to himself that this plan should suffice until he could come up with a more permanent solution. As he worked on devising his next plan of attack, he then noticed a voluptuous woman with long, sandy-brown curly hair and wide hazel eyes sitting on his desk next to him. Her hair flowed freely, and instead of a fine silk robe, she wore a plain gray robe that accentuated her figure. It seemed as if that was the whole point of it. She watched him with a warm, seductive smile that adorned her face, dangling her legs casually over the desk. He appreciated her smile, though not as much as she seemed to appreciate his. There was something familiar about this woman to Tharos. He felt a warm sensation spreading across his body as he laid eyes on her, as if he knew her. However, he couldn’t pinpoint the nature of their connection. Based on this feeling, he would assume they were close, as this wasn’t the feeling one would get from an acquaintance or from having their passions stirred by a random person in the crowd. It was the feeling one would get from someone they were close to and had an intimate familiarity with. However, he couldn’t recall who this woman was aside from the fact that she was the same woman he saw in the palace, although dressed differently. Instead of the rather ostentatious white robe with jewellery she originally wore, this robe was plain in comparison, even though it was just as well-made as her previous robe. The only things that hadn’t changed were her warm hazel-colored eyes and smile with her luscious lips.

However, this wasn’t the first time he had seen her look different; the last time he saw her, she appeared very different. Unlike the other times he had seen her, this time she was lying on a bed, dying, hooked up to various machines, and attended by servants as her life began to fade before his very eyes. Her beauty was starting to wither like a wilting rose, her succulent tanned skin was becoming paler and losing all its lustre. Her hair, once soft and silky with perfect curls, was matted like the hair of oxen, and her hazel-colored eyes, which once burned with a fire hotter than the light of the sun, were starting to flicker and wane like a candle in the wind. Her clothing was also in just as bad a state as she was; her white silk robe was stained red by blood and black by soot. Her jewellery, once polished and shining, was now rusting and grimy. As she lay there, he held her hand, feeling her pulse weaken with every passing second. He didn’t need his powers to know that she was dying, and fast. However, regardless of how advanced his people were in both the arts of medicine and magic, there were some people who couldn’t be saved. If it was your time to go, as decreed by the grand cosmic order, who was he to stop it?

As she lay there dying, tears welled up in her eyes. She tried to speak, but he gently silenced her by placing a finger on her lips.

“Save your strength,” he whispered. Yet, she refused to give up, displaying the same fiery spirit that he always admired in her. Even in her final moments, her determination shone through. She pushed his arm away and gazed directly into his eyes, her voice still strong but tinged with soul-crushing despair. It was the type of despair that only those whose hearts and minds have been completely broken could experience.

“Promise me, Tharos. Promise me you will save him. Whatever it takes, whatever the cost. Save him, please,” she begged him, for these were going to be her last words, and she wanted to use them to convey her final wish.

It didn’t take him long to make a decision; in fact, it wasn’t much of a choice to begin with, who was he to deny her this final request holding her hand tightly.

“I will,” he declared with confidence. As she heard this, a small smile appeared on her lips.

“Thank you,” she uttered, and as she did, her breath faded into a sigh, and she slumped back into her pillow. There were beeping noises and alerts that went off, and he was moved away as the servants rushed around, checking her pulse and trying to resuscitate her to no avail. No medicine or magic could save her now; she had returned to the Spiral. That was the last time he had seen her in the flesh, and everything else was just a memory, as intangible as the ghosts of the past that haunted his dreams.

As he looked upon her, sitting on his desk he reached out his hand to touch her, to feel her just for one more time. As he did so she disappeared in the blink of an eye. Fading into the background of the room, like a faint shadow of a memory, a memory that he could barely recall. He then noticed the light of the new dawn greeting him as sunlight slowly poured into the room, warming his body, indicating that a new day had dawned. He was unsure of how much time had passed and whether he had rested at all, but the feeling of exhaustion had vanished. This was a mystery he would need to explore further, but for now, he had more urgent tasks to attend to. It was now morning, and he proceeded to dress in his usual attire before heading to the palace. As he prepared to leave the room, he glanced back at the desk, a sombre expression clouding his face, as if he had just remembered something about the woman who was sitting at his desk watching him with a warm, but seductive smile on her face.

“I broke my promise, Didn’t I.”