The Priesthood

There was no doubt that he would soon enough find out their meaning, that he would soon find out what it all meant. After all, he lay in the heart of all answers—if he might learn to speak the language of the Atheians. It might take years, and it was likely that it would take more than that, for he knew that there could never be a way out for him if he was unable to communicate with them if there were even more of them, or if there was just the one.

If there was just one and no others, then what could he really do? What information could only one of the Atheians possess? And could the one he thought to be one of them even read?

Time passed. And there were no signs of the creature's return. He was left alone. All alone, with two things to look at: either the massive engraving on the wall or the abyss that was above. He chose to investigate the engraving as much as he could, to memorize every inch, every fine detail, every character that was different from the others around, and even the presumed letters that he could not understand. Even this he tried to engrave into his own memory.

He believed that, with enough time, that too could become something that he could never forget, just like the passage in the Book of the Heralds.

Hours went by, and in each moment that drifted into nothingness, he could feel his anxious mind take over, asking again such questions as, “What if it might never return?” “What if this were truly the end?”

Like a fleeting sound of prayer, a grace said not in vain, that distant yet familiar sound could be heard once more. The steps echoed in the silence, the return of the creature that might be his doom or his savior.

But there was just something Kanrel had to do before they might arrive, and like a master who had long perfected his craft, he renewed the codes that he had used to push himself over. Soon he managed to first find himself on his back, staring at the dark abyss, creating a mirror that could reflect his position and self, then another code to make him return to at least the side he was on, and then he vanquished all the lights that he had created, each code that had left something physical in this world.

Then he lay there and awaited, the sounds of steps becoming clearer, and soon a light that dwindled past from somewhere—the blue light that had first given him the sight of things that were around him. And so the creature had arrived.

It stopped at the entrance to the chamber, where Kanrel lay. It looked around and seemed to sniff, then stared at Kanrel for a while before smacking its lips, as if snorting, as if knowing what Kanrel had done.

Yet it seemed not to be as cautious as it had been before. Without much hesitation, it walked to Kanrel, and from its pack, the presumed Atheian brought out two dark but translucent pearls, one of which it placed into its own ear, and with the other in hand, it crouched closer and placed it into Kanrel’s ear. The sensation was most unpleasant at first, but soon it didn’t feel too bad; it was something one could get used to.

Then it spoke: “So this is a human.” The creature said, their voice still low and melodic, as they pronounced their observation or something that they had realized, perhaps on their way back.

Kanrel blinked. This wasn’t something that he had hoped for. This was something that was most unlikely. How could such an item, a piece of technology, or a magical device work in such a manner? But then again... The Atheians and their understanding of magic seemed to be so developed that it almost rivaled what the Sharan had crafted in their city so long ago.

“Interesting… I was expecting more emotions. Fear, wonder. Not this dead stare that you are giving me. I must say, I am disappointed.” The creature said.

It was no surprise. Kanrel’s facial expressions had been the same for such a long time now. Especially when he made no effort to falsify an emotion that could not exist there. Kanrel snorted, “Ah, if I still were as I once was, perhaps a decade ago, then I would be quite excited, I think. It is not every day that a man gets to see a creature such as yourself and to converse with one, no less.”

But he really had no idea what he would feel at this moment if he were that child from long ago. Fear, of course, but the curiosity that he had had then was something far more powerful than fear could ever be; even now he should be afraid, but he had become far too emotionally resigned.

It took a step back and sat on a stone. “Care to explain?” It asked, its eyes glittering in the blue light, their curiosity toward the thing they knew to be a human, was there and so clear to see.

“I once could feel satisfaction—pleasure—I could enjoy things, but not anymore; that has been taken from me.”

“I see… And why is that? Is it just something inherent to humans, something that just happens?”

“No, it is because I am a priest, and according to the creed of the Priesthood, to gain power, one must lose the ability to enjoy things, lest the allure of power make you its slave, and we must suffer so that we might understand the suffering of others.”

“We ought to carry the suffering of others in our minds and the suffering of the dead in our hearts,” Kanrel explained.

The creature looked at him with a curious expression on their face, “That makes no sense. Why would you give something so precious to gain ‘power’?”

Kanrel smiled. “It is what our gods taught us, for they believe that all power can do is bring suffering to the world, because it is something that is so easily exploited and used in wrong ways by those who have it.”

“Thus one needs to lose the very thing that would give us the desire to use it in such a way.”

The creature seemed to think for a moment before it replied, “I understand, sort of. But to me, the person who accepts such a deal could only be a fool.”

“I understand the creed of your gods and your Priesthood. But to think, again, that there are those who are willing to give away the thing that probably makes you human, just to have power, boggles the mind.”

“Tell me, who are your gods to decide who can exploit power and who can’t?”

“Well, it is because they give it to us, and to gain it, we must give something in return. It is a trade, but the terms are set by them.” Kanrel explained.

The eyes of the creature shifted, and their expression became much more focused than before. “Tell me of this power.”

Perhaps it would be a mistake to be honest about such things. It might be safer to hold such information for himself so that he might have a card in his sleeves if he might need it. But on the other hand, he already mentioned "power,” and that was more or less a mistake, and it would be foolish of Kanrel to think that the presumed Atheian is stupid.

He cleared his throat and said, “A more substantial word for it would be magic, and to be more specific, magical ability.”

The creature stared at the human at its feet for a while, then nodded. “Explains the smell in here—you must’ve summoned fire as I left to have at least a little bit of light of your own.”

“Yes.”

“Curious… Why would you extinguish the fires before I got here? Are you perhaps unable to hold fire for a long time?”

“Well… I decided that, at the moment, the best course of action would be to hide any magical ability.”

“I suppose that is understandable—but then why would you expose yourself so soon?”

“Well, it was obvious from your reaction that you were able to smell the fires.”

The creature smacked its lips again, then smiled, “Most curious... So you receive this magical ability, or power, from your gods?”

Kanrel nodded.

“Have you seen one of your gods? Are they real?”

Kanrel snorted, “Yes, and yes, but I doubt that you’d believe the circumstances of those meetings.”

The creature shifted its head to the right, “Why would I not believe you? You’ve arrived at our land, after all, yet there is no way in. Only these bones that lie beside you have been able to enter so far.”

“We are more than aware of our situation here, beneath the ground, so for you to enter, there could only be some sort of divine intervention needed, for those who locked us down here were, or are, like that.” The creature spoke; their expression was very observant, prying for any reaction that there might be on Kanrel’s face.

“Are your people perhaps the Atheians?” Kanrel outright asked, studying the creature's expressions, and soon he could see a wide smile on that gray face.

“Yes. I am most surprised. One would think that by now, we would have been forgotten in the sands of history, left in those very sands to be blown away by the swift wind of time; change itself.”

“You are forgotten; only I and a few others know what you were called. The rest of humanity has no idea; they only think of you as an ancient human civilization that was, perhaps, destroyed by the Wildkind.” Kanrel explained.

“Wildkind? Describe them to me."

“They were animal-like, vicious, and warring. It is speculated that they wanted to devour the world. They even drove humanity to the brink of extinction until our gods arrived and offered us a deal."

The creature straightened its head once more and nodded. “We warred against them many times in the past, and we won many times; we pushed them all the way to the southern lands, past the great desert, far enough that they could never terrorize us.”

“To us, they were less than nothing.”

“Do you know where they came from?” Kanrel asked, suddenly curious, if such new information would make so many things make more sense.

The Atheian shrugged, “I do not know all, just some things—our education isn’t so focused on ancient history, the times before the Empire.”

Kanrel couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. “A shame.”

“But human… Let us return to the topic of your magic—tell me more about it.”

Kanrel let out a slight sigh. “Very well.”

“Are you aware of the laws that govern our world? Such as gravity, the thing that seems to make it so that things remain on the ground and won’t drift around aimlessly. Or how important heat is for many things and many reactions?”

“More or less, our civilization is very advanced.” The Atheian said.

“Well, as far as we can tell, magic is like a law above the other laws; it is something that can alter all the others, seemingly out of nowhere. It is like another element, but one that affects all of the other elements, for it can be used to create fire, water, and theoretically anything, as long as certain conditions are met.”

“A fire needs fuel to exist, for example,” Kanrel explained.

“But... you can also alter the properties of a given object or material for a limited span of time.” Kanrel then shifted his gaze to a nearby skull. “For example, I can levitate that skull far above me; I can make it as light as a feather or as heavy as a large boulder.”

“Show me,” the Atheian demanded.

And without hesitation, he did so; he created a rather familiar code, more or less guessing how heavy the skull might be, and lo and behold, the skull began to levitate, first just a few inches, and then a few feet and a few more, until it levitated right before the eyes of the Atheian, who seemed rather pleased as they observed what was happening.

“Curious and quite useful. You can just reverse the laws of the given material; a skull becomes weightless and can levitate. But why, and how?”

“Well… I am not quite sure. I suppose it is something that cannot be explained, like the stars and how they came to be.” Kanrel sighed.

“So... it is so, just because it is so?”

“Yes, since for now we lack the means and the knowledge to even fantasize about an explanation. Our imagination is perhaps too lacking to give a definitive answer or even speculate on why it might be so. Which is perhaps why we call it ‘magic.'”

“Sad, but very interesting... But it is exciting. The knowledge that no one knows quite yet, like the very mystery of stars, to be the person in the future who creates a theory good enough to explain either or would be remembered forevermore.” The Atheian said, their expression filled with wonder, that soon shifted away as another form of curiosity came to be, “What might be your name, human? It must be so that your kind use such things.”

Kanrel couldn’t help but, for a moment, be jealous of that creature and all of the feelings that they might be feeling, but he soon captured himself from staring too much and introduced himself: “I am Kanrel Iduldian, a priest of the Priesthood.”

The Atheian got up, with a wide smile on their face, “And you may call me Y’kraun.”

“Pleasure to converse with a creature of a forgotten race of peoples; I would get up and shake your hand if I could,” Kanrel said, with a wry smile on his face.

The Atheian grinned. “You could just get up and walk around, you know.”

Kanrel’s expression froze. “Are you mocking me?”

“Yes, the medicine I gave you should’ve taken effect by now. Of course, how it works on humans isn’t known yet, but I would presume that our anatomy and biology aren’t that different. Of course, you weigh much less than an adult Atheian might, so I would be more worried that the medicine would be too effective.” Y’Kraun rambled as they came closer to Kanrel and poked his legs.

A sensation that he could feel all too well; he could feel his leg and the pressure caused by the finger that poked it. So, he tried to move his hands, and they did, though they felt clumsy at best, but that didn’t matter, for he could move. And with this realization, he could feel his whole body go through this strange, tingly sensation. It was like thousands and thousands of ants walked upon his body.

But slowly, he got up. Taking support from the helpful Y’kraun, if he were to try to get up alone, he’d definitely fail and fall back down. His feet felt like mush.

“How did you even get here?” Y’Kraun asked suddenly, “That is something we’ve wondered about for a long time, of course; so far we’ve seen only bones, of course, but still they seem to materialize out of thin air.”

“Of course, some theorize that it could be some sort of teleportation magic, but it is something that even we couldn’t figure out at the peak of our civilization.”

Kanrel snorted. “Isn’t it quite obvious?” He said and pointed up, up toward the abyss that was above.

Y’Kraun shifted its gaze up. “And what am I supposed to see?” It asked, and in its voice, there was the slightest amount of amusement.

Kanrel looked up and saw the cave ceiling. But nothing else. There was no abyss. It was as if it were never there.

He just stared up, unable to quite understand how such a thing might’ve happened.

“There was an... abyss... A tunnel of darkness down which I fell… And then I hit the ground…” He said, “It was there…” He muttered.

Y’Kraun stared at the ceiling with him, then stared at Kanrel for a while, “I suppose this is the divine intervention that brought you down here.” Then it forced Kanrel to turn and look toward the wall that held its engraving proudly against the blue light that now garnished it.

“This is one of our gods.” It said, “We call him the Lord From Above... He has no other name… He is justice; he is vengeance; he is evil… He is the reason we are here… It was his crusade, we believe, that brought us down here.” In its voice, there were so many complex emotions.

“And what does it read below?” Kanrel asked.

Y’Kraun’s grip tightened around Kanrel’s arm. “An Ending for Those Below...” It almost whispered, as if it were a curse, something you ought to never say aloud.

Shivers ran down Kanrel’s spine. An ending from and for below...