Post by Rashaskool on Jul 6, 2015 17:28:05 GMT
3. The Hanging Garden
Prince stepped forwards onto soft earthy ground. His every step marked where he had been in the grass, a trail of footsteps in the undergrowth. Trees towered above him, row upon row lining his path, urging him on.
The scent of the gardens hung in the air, a stale perfume of an untouched and beautiful world lingering beneath the city. Zione was built on the edge of an abyss, connected between two jutting cliffs by a gargantuan series of platforms and bridges. It was unclear why those who first settled built the city this way, or indeed how they had built it in the first place. But beneath the largest of the bridges hung the gardens of Bahemelon, home to the Temple of Edin first of the Strangelords.
It was at this temple Prince sought guidance. His struggles with the paladins had, in his eyes, concerned something altogether more ethereal and required the help of the Gods.
He pushed on through the ever denser foliage, the pathways untouched for decades overgrown with varied fauna, each significant in one way or another to the Edin priests. Dew hung thick on leaves the size of men and the air drew in around him and grew sticky. The magics he felt here were otherworldly and their powers were foreign to him, his own kayju the gift of a much younger God.
Prince found the steps long before he could see the temple, clambering over slabs that seemed older than the city hovering high above him in the darkness. After what seemed an age, the way up breached through the tree tops, leading towards the cliff itself, leaving the garden far below him. The stairway led towards an opening in the rock, barely visible in the half-light, which grew ever larger as Prince managed the last few minutes of the climb.
Everything around him dimmed as prince stepped into a cavern that seemed big enough to be it's own room, lit by great pyres burning eerily high and in the distance. The central feature of the landscape was the temple, a great white monolithic building surrounded by the crystalline blues of the underground rivers that forked their way around the rocks and boulders that held it in up and in place.
The building itself was featureless, an enormous mass of marble that rose into a simple dome. At it's base, separated by hundreds of meters of white, were a series of doors, each leading to the inner sanctums of the temple. Each door was arched, more than three men high, and decorated with lines of vivid blue paint; the patterns seeming to mirror the movement of the water around them. Despite it's stark exterior, Prince couldn't help but be impressed by the sheer magnitude of it. The Temple of Edin was half the size again of the Palace of the Strange, a complex that took up nearly a third of Zione.
As he made his way up the steps toward the closest and grandest of these entrances, Prince felt a chill. His mind hazed and his concentration wavered. As he looked up at the temple before him he saw to figures descending just before his vision faded to black.
The hanging gardens. They were so called because of the way they hung from beneath the great city. And they reeked of blood. The smell was unbearable, the flowers, man-sized, dripping red and raw in the cold unwelcoming morning light.
Prince stared into the sun feeling further away from everything than he had. His eyes watered in the glare and yet he found he could not turn his head away. The hanging gardens were dying and yet he could not see their killer.
Finally with a last breath Prince willed himself to look at what was around him. Red mixed with green and the faces of those he loved stared down at him, lifeless. The hanging gardens were a place of peace. A place of solace. These were not the same gardens. This was an orchard of death. Row upon row of lifeless being hung from the trees, their necks engorged and their eyes bulging. Each one pointed toward a crack in the wall, toward where Prince knew the temple lay.
A voice called out to him, a whisper on the wind. “Prince..” He knew it at once and a blind panic filled him. He could not move toward the sound, nor could he call out. He merely stood in panic while the hanging corpses seemed to get ever closer.
“Prince, save us..” the voice came again. This time Prince did move, but up. He found himself floating a few inches from the ground and for the first time noticed he was barefoot. His feet were blistered and bruised and yet he felt no pain. He merely felt himself pulled toward the voice.
At the cusp of the temple he heard it again, this time echoing around the great cavern he had entered, seeming to ripple in the blue lanterns dotted around the rivers which now ran red. “Prince, you're late, it's already falling.”
Behind him a noise, earth shattering. Prince felt himself turn and a familiar face looked up at him, pale and iridescent in the half-light. Lily's mouth opened as if to scream and her hand reached out, taking an age to stretch fully. Prince's hand moved too, but too late. The crumbling sound of the gardens falling away dulled all other noise, muffling Prince's agonised screams as she fell out of view and into the abyss.
Prince came too on a bed, lightweight and comfortable. He was vaguely aware of a soft candle light in the corner of the room and, as his eyes adjusted to the light, a figure in the corner, paying him no heed as it read a dusty volume from it's lap.
“You've been faye dreaming boy.”
Prince gave no answer to the man. He had no answer to give, only questions.
“Nothing has happened yet. Nothing that will come to pass if you do not wish it. And yet I feel there are things set in motion that you cannot stop. Hmm.” He closed the book in front of him and stood up, slowly, grasping a gnarled walking stick from beside him. “You're like your father was when he was young. Yet you have your mother's gift. Or her curse.. And you come seeking the Edin priests with many questions. I fear this trip has only garnered more, eh?”
Prince opened his mouth to speak but found it was too dry, merely letting out a soft rasping sound.
“Here, drink. I know what you want to ask. A faye dream is just that, a dream. And yet it is more. Your future lies in that dream.”
Prince finished the water and spoke, “my future? I cannot let that be my future.”
“We cannot let our futures be and yet they must.” The old man chuckled. “A faye dream shows you your future but it is curious. If an event must happen then it must happen. But a faye dream shows you what will happen but not how it will happen or even if it will happen in this life or the next. Know this boy, out futures are set out for us, strung and unbreakable. But we can stretch the future out. Change events. What occurred in your dream can be stopped but everything that happened in your dream will come to pass. The gardens will fall, if not now then in a millennia. You will lose your love and all those you love with her. Perhaps you will go with them? Perhaps you will be gone first.”
The old man looked at Prince's puzzled looks and sighed. “Death comes to us all boy, that is what your dream showed you. You came to a watcher and watch I did. Answers I provided. Ask no more questions. Rest, eat and be gone.”
Prince stepped forwards onto soft earthy ground. His every step marked where he had been in the grass, a trail of footsteps in the undergrowth. Trees towered above him, row upon row lining his path, urging him on.
The scent of the gardens hung in the air, a stale perfume of an untouched and beautiful world lingering beneath the city. Zione was built on the edge of an abyss, connected between two jutting cliffs by a gargantuan series of platforms and bridges. It was unclear why those who first settled built the city this way, or indeed how they had built it in the first place. But beneath the largest of the bridges hung the gardens of Bahemelon, home to the Temple of Edin first of the Strangelords.
It was at this temple Prince sought guidance. His struggles with the paladins had, in his eyes, concerned something altogether more ethereal and required the help of the Gods.
He pushed on through the ever denser foliage, the pathways untouched for decades overgrown with varied fauna, each significant in one way or another to the Edin priests. Dew hung thick on leaves the size of men and the air drew in around him and grew sticky. The magics he felt here were otherworldly and their powers were foreign to him, his own kayju the gift of a much younger God.
Prince found the steps long before he could see the temple, clambering over slabs that seemed older than the city hovering high above him in the darkness. After what seemed an age, the way up breached through the tree tops, leading towards the cliff itself, leaving the garden far below him. The stairway led towards an opening in the rock, barely visible in the half-light, which grew ever larger as Prince managed the last few minutes of the climb.
Everything around him dimmed as prince stepped into a cavern that seemed big enough to be it's own room, lit by great pyres burning eerily high and in the distance. The central feature of the landscape was the temple, a great white monolithic building surrounded by the crystalline blues of the underground rivers that forked their way around the rocks and boulders that held it in up and in place.
The building itself was featureless, an enormous mass of marble that rose into a simple dome. At it's base, separated by hundreds of meters of white, were a series of doors, each leading to the inner sanctums of the temple. Each door was arched, more than three men high, and decorated with lines of vivid blue paint; the patterns seeming to mirror the movement of the water around them. Despite it's stark exterior, Prince couldn't help but be impressed by the sheer magnitude of it. The Temple of Edin was half the size again of the Palace of the Strange, a complex that took up nearly a third of Zione.
As he made his way up the steps toward the closest and grandest of these entrances, Prince felt a chill. His mind hazed and his concentration wavered. As he looked up at the temple before him he saw to figures descending just before his vision faded to black.
The hanging gardens. They were so called because of the way they hung from beneath the great city. And they reeked of blood. The smell was unbearable, the flowers, man-sized, dripping red and raw in the cold unwelcoming morning light.
Prince stared into the sun feeling further away from everything than he had. His eyes watered in the glare and yet he found he could not turn his head away. The hanging gardens were dying and yet he could not see their killer.
Finally with a last breath Prince willed himself to look at what was around him. Red mixed with green and the faces of those he loved stared down at him, lifeless. The hanging gardens were a place of peace. A place of solace. These were not the same gardens. This was an orchard of death. Row upon row of lifeless being hung from the trees, their necks engorged and their eyes bulging. Each one pointed toward a crack in the wall, toward where Prince knew the temple lay.
A voice called out to him, a whisper on the wind. “Prince..” He knew it at once and a blind panic filled him. He could not move toward the sound, nor could he call out. He merely stood in panic while the hanging corpses seemed to get ever closer.
“Prince, save us..” the voice came again. This time Prince did move, but up. He found himself floating a few inches from the ground and for the first time noticed he was barefoot. His feet were blistered and bruised and yet he felt no pain. He merely felt himself pulled toward the voice.
At the cusp of the temple he heard it again, this time echoing around the great cavern he had entered, seeming to ripple in the blue lanterns dotted around the rivers which now ran red. “Prince, you're late, it's already falling.”
Behind him a noise, earth shattering. Prince felt himself turn and a familiar face looked up at him, pale and iridescent in the half-light. Lily's mouth opened as if to scream and her hand reached out, taking an age to stretch fully. Prince's hand moved too, but too late. The crumbling sound of the gardens falling away dulled all other noise, muffling Prince's agonised screams as she fell out of view and into the abyss.
Prince came too on a bed, lightweight and comfortable. He was vaguely aware of a soft candle light in the corner of the room and, as his eyes adjusted to the light, a figure in the corner, paying him no heed as it read a dusty volume from it's lap.
“You've been faye dreaming boy.”
Prince gave no answer to the man. He had no answer to give, only questions.
“Nothing has happened yet. Nothing that will come to pass if you do not wish it. And yet I feel there are things set in motion that you cannot stop. Hmm.” He closed the book in front of him and stood up, slowly, grasping a gnarled walking stick from beside him. “You're like your father was when he was young. Yet you have your mother's gift. Or her curse.. And you come seeking the Edin priests with many questions. I fear this trip has only garnered more, eh?”
Prince opened his mouth to speak but found it was too dry, merely letting out a soft rasping sound.
“Here, drink. I know what you want to ask. A faye dream is just that, a dream. And yet it is more. Your future lies in that dream.”
Prince finished the water and spoke, “my future? I cannot let that be my future.”
“We cannot let our futures be and yet they must.” The old man chuckled. “A faye dream shows you your future but it is curious. If an event must happen then it must happen. But a faye dream shows you what will happen but not how it will happen or even if it will happen in this life or the next. Know this boy, out futures are set out for us, strung and unbreakable. But we can stretch the future out. Change events. What occurred in your dream can be stopped but everything that happened in your dream will come to pass. The gardens will fall, if not now then in a millennia. You will lose your love and all those you love with her. Perhaps you will go with them? Perhaps you will be gone first.”
The old man looked at Prince's puzzled looks and sighed. “Death comes to us all boy, that is what your dream showed you. You came to a watcher and watch I did. Answers I provided. Ask no more questions. Rest, eat and be gone.”
