Inheritance OT Fallen, ch 4

I approached the ruins slowly, cautiously. Most of me wanted to just run into the place, whooping like a kid. But I remembered the witch's general wariness the day before and decided it was a good example and a good habit to build.

As I got closer, the sun dipped a bit further, casting the ancient stones in soft light, complemented by shadows that seemed to dance and shift with each step I took. The air was filled with the sounds of animals barking, and the wind through the distant trees, sounds of life going on as usual, oblivious to my growing excitement and nervousness. I kept to the shadows, my heart pounding in my chest as I scanned the area for any signs of life—or danger.

When I got even closer, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, a primal response to the unknown. Now that I was near enough, I could hear the wind whispering through the crumbling walls, carrying with it the faintest hint of something... off. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I knew better than to ignore my instincts. I paused, crouching behind a fallen column, and surveyed the area more carefully.

After some intense scrutiny, I noticed a faint, intermittent glow emanating from within a crumbling tower. It was subtle, almost imperceptible in the daylight, but it was there—a pulsating, blueish light that seemed to throb in time with some unheard rhythm. I made a face, considering. It could be that the ruins were guarded, or it could be a monster, or a mage, or something even worse.

I sent out my mystic senses with the lightest of touches, looking for wards, auras, or anything else I could find. As I extended them, the world around me shifted slightly, the air shimmering with unseen energies. I felt the pulse of the earth beneath my feet, the whisper of the wind against my skin, and the distant hum of life all around me. The ruins before me came into sharper focus, the ancient stones resonating with a faint, residual magic.

With effort, as I probed deeper, the intermittent glow within the crumbling tower became more pronounced.  However, I sensed no immediate threat, no conventional traps or recognizable wards designed to repel intruders. Instead, there was a strange emptiness, a void that seemed to swallow all sound and light. It was unsettling, but I had come this far, and I was not about to turn back. I remained cautious, ready to react at a moment's notice, but I moved directly to the ruins and began to inspect them.

I wanted to take my time, but I was also aware that I only had less than half the day's daylight left, and I did not plan to camp in the ruins. As I stepped deeper into the ruins, the air grew colder, as if the very stones radiated a chill. The sunlight seemed to dim, the shadows lengthening and deepening around me.

It could have just been nerves, though.  My fight or flight response was keyed up to the max.  kept my senses on high alert, my hand resting on the pommel of my newly acquired Elven short sword. The crumbling walls and towers loomed above me, their once-proud structures now reduced to little more than skeletal remains.

I started inspecting the perimeter of the runes, trying to take a logical path to cover the entire area thoroughly.  However, as I explored, I didn't find anything interesting.  Minutes passed, and the entire time, I could feel the strange area at the top of the tower near the center of the ruins. Finally, I gave up exploring systematically and just headed towards the tower. As I approached, I sensed the magic in the tower even stronger, getting the clear feeling that it was some sort of powerful ward or protection, even if I didn’t recognize it. Then I stopped, mouth open, as I saw English words carved directly into the stone.

The letters were sharp and precise, each one meticulously etched as if by a skilled hand. I squinted, making out the words: 

"Beware the guardian within, for he sleeps not, nor forgives."

I read the message multiple times, growing more confused and irritated with each repetition. "But that doesn't make any sense!," I finally complained out loud. "Nobody on this fucking world other than me even reads English! Come on, English-writing person!  Why issue a warning this cryptic to the person you're trying to communicate with and invited here with the journal in the first place!?" As I stood there, puzzling and stressing over the inscription, the wind picked up, whistling through the crumbling stones and making me shiver. The words carved into the tower seemed to mock me, their meaning as enigmatic as their purpose. I shook my head, muttering, "Fuck it, only one way to find out."

I stepped into the tower, the air inside damp and musty. As I ventured deeper inside, the sunlight from outside diminished, casting the interior in a gloomy half-light. The stone walls were slick with moisture, and the air was thick with the scent of mold. I could hear the faint drip of water echoing through the silence. The magical pulse I sensed earlier grew stronger, thrumming through the air like a heartbeat. I took a few breaks to stop and listen, but heard nothing other than the dripping.  The tower was empty, the route to the stairs up to the second floor unobstructed. 

As I approached the staircase, the air grew heavier, charged with an unseen energy that prickled my skin. The words carved into the wall sharpened into focus, the English letters stark against the ancient stone. I read, 

"Who would climb the tower of death must answer me these question three, ere the top of the tower he see."

Below this writing was a question: 

"What is your name?"

There was no way I didn’t catch the reference, here.  I blinked and slowly said, "How is this possible? Isn't this journal ancient? Monty Python was from, like, the seventies on Earth, right?" Nobody answered.

I muttered, "Maybe it's a coincidence." After a pause, I said loudly, in English, "My name is Cale Galdrich." The magic pressure I was feeling before lessened. I blinked. "Seriously?"

As I stood there, blinking in disbelief, the heavy magical pressure that had been pushing against me abruptly vanished the rest of the way, leaving me feeling strangely light, like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. The air in the tower seemed to shift, the damp mustiness receding as a faint breeze picked up, carrying with it a scent that was oddly familiar—a mix of old parchment and a hint of something sharper, like ozone after a storm.

After climbing the stairs, I was unsurprised when there was another barrier and another message written in English. This one said, 

"What is your quest?"

I almost answered to find the Holy Grail, but I decided to be honest instead and take the questions seriously. After gathering my breath, I loudly proclaimed, "I seek power to save my family, and I seek power for myself." As I spoke the words, the air in the tower seemed to resonate with my voice, the magical hum intensifying for a moment before subsiding. The barrier before me shimmered and dissipated, revealing the way forward. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and continued up the stairs, the stone cold and rough beneath my hands.

The next landing presented me with another barrier, another question. 

"What is your favorite color?" 

I remembered the message outside the tower and continued to take the questions seriously. Out loud, in English, I said, "I can remember my past life, and back then my favorite color was blue, but in this life, I do not actually have a favorite color." As I spoke, the air in the tower seemed to hum with an almost electric charge. The barrier before me flickered and dissipated, the magic yielding to my words. The staircase ahead beckoned, the stone steps worn smooth by time.

“This is so weird,” I sighed.

I ascended cautiously, my hand resting on the pommel of my Elven short sword, the runes etched into the blade pulsing softly with magical energy. At the top of the tower, I stopped, shocked, and my eyebrows crawled into my hairline. I saw two things. 

A ghostly apparition with a scythe made my skin crawl and gave me an instant sense of deadly danger, but the figure didn't move. Instead, it inclined its cloaked head at me. And in the middle of the upper floor of the tower hung a softly glowing sphere. Now that I was close enough and could see it, and the protections were down, I recognized what it was: a portal.

Since the guardian was not attacking me, and even if it did, I would not be able to do anything about it, I pointed. "Can I go through there?"

The apparition nodded.

I got closer to the portal, reaching out with my senses, and determined that it led to a pocket dimension, an old one. As I inched closer to the portal, the air crackled with an ancient, untamed energy. The sphere pulsed patterns with its dim light, casting eerie, dancing shadows on the cold stone walls. The guardian remained still, its scythe a silent promise of swift retribution should I step out of line, I assumed. 

As I stood before the portal, the hairs on the back of my neck rose, responding to the raw power that emanated from the sphere. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and something else—something ancient and otherworldly. My skin crawled as I sensed the guardian, cloaked and motionless, keeping its gaze fixed on me, the blade of its scythe glinting menacingly.

I had come too far to give up now, so I stepped forward, moving right into the portal. When I stepped inside the portal, the air around me distorted and warped, the ancient magic humming with a resonant energy that vibrated through my very bones. The world around me blurred, the cold stone walls of the tower replaced by a swirling vortex of color and light. I felt a moment of disorientation, a sensation of being pulled and stretched, as if the fabric of reality was being bent around me.

As the vortex stabilized, I found myself standing in a vast, circular chamber. The walls were made of smooth, interlocking stones, each one carved with intricate runes that pulsed with a soft, mystic light. The air was cool and crisp, carrying a faint electrical charge that prickled my skin. Power seemed to buzz in the air, the sensation not being exactly unpleasant, but full of possibility. The ceiling above was a dome of shimmering energy, casting a glow that bathed the entire chamber in a dance of light and shadow.

When I took my first steps into the chamber, the air seemed to hum further with an ancient power, the magic of this place resonating with every breath I took. The floor beneath my feet was polished obsidian, reflecting the dance of light from above like a dark mirror. I could see my own reflection staring back at me. "Fancy," I muttered.

As I took in the grandeur of the chamber, a sudden gust of wind swept through, carrying with it a whisper of sound that put my mystical senses on guard. The air shimmered, and a figure materialized before me, as if she was stepping out of nowhere, coalescing into a tall, striking woman. She appeared to be in her late twenties, with a fierce beauty and piercing eyes the color of rain clouds. Her hair was a cascade of raven black, falling in loose curls down to her waist, with gold bangles and ringlets holding it in a complicated series of varying lock width. She was dressed in small, form-fitting, scaled leather armor, more of a bikini top and battle skirt, dyed a deep shade of crimson, accentuating her curves and leaving little to the imagination. A silver circlet rested on her brow, bearing a single, gleaming red gemstone that seemed to absorb the light around it.

I inclined my head with cautious respect. "Greetings. Apologies for my intrusion. May I ask who, or what you are? Are you in charge of this place?"

As I inclined my head, the woman's piercing eyes narrowed, assessing me with an intensity that made the air between us crackle. She took a step forward, her gold ewelry clinking softly, and a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"In charge?" She let out a low, sultry laugh that echoed through the chamber. "I suppose you could say that, little adventurer."

I didn't take offense. Even without reaching out with my magical senses, which I didn't dare to do, my instincts were telling me to play it cool. I respectfully nodded my head again and asked, "May I know what this place is? If I had to guess, it's either a tomb or a Legacy Vault. Maybe both."

My education had been fairly intensive, but my mystic education had taken it even farther.  I was something of an expert on Legacy Vaults.  They were created by the will of powerful warriors, fallen gods, or even stranger entities, and usually existed as a tomb as well, complete with treasures and the remains of the one who fell.  Most were usually created by and dedicated to a fallen god.

But Legacy Vaults, unlike a mere tomb, were not just a hiding place for wealth. Instead, they often chose their successors, or who would receive knowledge, or power, or an item from the fallen one... or they might even give nothing. Adventurers could die while trying to explore them, too.  I'd never seen a Legacy Vault before, but with what I knew, and the fact this space was so large, plus all the other clues I was picking up, made me fairly sure that this one was the Legacy Vault of a dead god.

The woman's smirk deepened, and she took another step closer, her leather armor creaking softly with the movement. "Clever little adventurer, aren't you?" she purred, circling me like a predator. "This place is indeed a Legacy Vault, a sanctum of power and knowledge, hidden away from the unworthy." She paused, her eyes boring into mine.

With a sudden flash, I realized that this Legacy Vault preceded whoever wrote the English in the journal and on the walls.  Whoever had written the English and created the barriers had effectively protected the tower, the anchor point for the portal of this place on the outside. I also realized, based on that fact, that time in Nuterra must truly move very differently than on Earth. As I stood there, the weight of my realization settling in, the woman's eyes gleamed with an ancient knowledge that made me wary.

"Ah, I see the cogs turning in that mind of yours," she said, her voice low, but pitched in a way that seemed to echo through the chamber.

I decided to take a different approach than I’d first intended.  Instead of following some of the books I’d read on interactions with great beatins, or supernatural entities, I was going to wring it.  Then I told the truth, just not the full truth. 

"My name is Cale Galdrich, heir of the Galdrich family, currently a minor noble house on the edges of the wilderness in Yellop, which the ruins with a portal to this place currently exist in, in this era. When I was young, I was praised as a genius, in part because of how fast I learned, which was in part because I could remember some memories of my life on another world. I was also highly regarded as a child due to my martial and magical talent, and associate hard work, which I am most proud of, and have continued to train. However, I ran into a wall in my early teens, and found that I simply do not have the raw power necessary to be a warrior of any renown on this world. But I want to help my family, which for all its faults, is good, and more importantly, I want to explore this world, and to have enough personal power to keep my freedom and never compromise who I am, or what I want to say. To anyone."

I continued, "That is why I am on my current adventure. I seek power. My quest is not heroic, at least I don’t consider it that way.  I have decided to be honest with myself and with the universe that some of my motivations are selfless, but some are definitely selfish."

As I finished speaking, the woman's expression shifted, her smirk fading into a look of genuine curiosity. She stopped her circling, standing before me with her arms crossed, the gold jewelry on her wrists jingling softly.

"Cale Galdrich," she repeated, tasting my name on her tongue. "A noble with memories of another world. Interesting."

I laughed hollowly. "It hasn't done me much good yet. With the unique memories and knowledge I have, I might be able to attain greater wealth on Nuterra, but it would take time.  It’s too late, too.  The wealth I could make now, alone, will not save my family, nor help me get any stronger as a fighter. And I already grew up in privilege when I was younger. The situation, at least to me, strikes me as ironic. Perhaps if I'd been less focused on personal development and more interested in business while younger, my family might be better off now. But who knows?"

As I finished my candid confession, the woman's gaze sharpened, her stormy eyes searching my face as if seeking them for any hidden meaning or deceit in my words. She uncrossed her arms, her fingers tracing the golden circlet on her brow, the red gemstone gleaming ominously.

"Ironic indeed, Cale Galdrich," she said, her voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the chamber.

I decided to take a chance and ask a direct question about her identity. "Are you a steward of this place, or are you also perhaps an echo of the one who fell and whose legacy is held here?"

The woman's eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and intrigue. "Ah, both clever and direct. I like that," she said, her voice a husky purr that seemed to fill the chamber. She took a step closer, her hips swaying gently with each movement, her jewelry clinking softly. "I am Mysania, the echo of the goddess who once held dominion over these lands."