Perimeter of Protocol

Zen was still at the edge of the eerie clearing, half hidden by the leathery, jaundiced trees. The air was silent and frigid in the Warden's Grove, and it smelled faintly of ozone and ancient parchment. The black granite structure in the middle was fascinating, its slow, methodical construction and collapse an exercise in pointless accuracy. An unwritten, unbending set of rules seemed to be punctuated by every grating sound and every piercing crack as a shard landed or fell.

"Right," Zen said, more to himself than to the stifling quiet. "Walking up and knocking isn't an option, I take it." He unzipped his rucksack and took out both his and Icor's journals. He looked around the circle of the scale-paved clearing. There was no welcome mat, no clear pathways going into it. Only the sharp, angular line between the grey paving and the yellowed vegetation. In his head, the ragged note's remark that "order is madness" echoed.

He observed the core structure for a good hour, sketching its changing patterns and noticing the steady, periodic pulse of energy it emitted. It was a dull, regulating throb that acted as a metronome for a symphony of decay. To gain a better understanding of the prevailing energies, he attempted to use his Signature Analysis. This location reverberated with a strong, almost oppressive feeling of procedure, unlike the chaotic, emotional cacophony of the outside Verge or the residual memory-echoes of the road that brought him here. It was impersonal, chilly, and completely unyielding. The air itself felt confined.

He wrote, "This isn't just reactive anymore," in his journal. "This state is actively upheld and maintained. The building is more than simply a symbol; it's perhaps the main attraction and the one enforcing the special characteristics of this area."

Still adamantly pointing at the center of that moving monument, he pondered the blinking dot on his data reader. It was obvious that the previous explorer had thought something important was there. or had fallen for its pull.

Zen decided that a direct approach would only lead to an unknowable and probably unpleasant outcome, so he started to creep carefully around the perimeter while remaining under the relative shade of the trees. The variances, flaws, or indications of how this 'protocol' was applied were what he was searching for. He observed that the odd, symmetrical tracks he had previously seen were also here, gently imprinted into the softer ground just outside the paved circle. They never crossed in, always traveling parallel to the circle's boundary. Well, patrolling.

He saw it when he turned a corner in a thick copse of leather-barked trees. Or them.

Zen paused in the middle of his stride, a real, swiftly repressed wave of astonishment coursing through him. Although he had been anticipating something, the truth was more unsettling than his theories. Three figures stood sentinel, motionless, just inside the paved circle. Their forms were an impossible combination of geometric constructions and animalistic shapes, and they were about the size of huge deer or wolves. They moved with a subtle, flowing grace that belied their apparent material, which appeared to be densely packed layers of what appeared to be dried leaves or brittle, grey paper. They had oval heads with no features, and sharp, angular 'quills' of the same black rock that made up the core structure protruded from their shoulders. They just existed; they weren't breathing. Disciplined Animal Illusions, just as Icor had suggested in his broken message.

Their heads, which had no features, were inclined slightly toward the edge of the woodland, but they were not staring at him. Zen dropped himself to a crouch carefully, his heart pounding a bit more quickly than he liked. An important escalation occurred with this. These were guardians, not passive environmental effects.

"Well, now," he said in a voice that was almost audible. "That complicates the entry plan." He examined them closely, taking note of everything: the way the light reflected off their papery hides, the complete quiet of their presence, and the subtle hum that seemed to come from their obsidian quills and resonate with the main building. tainted order. Its initial defense was these creatures.

He had to see how they responded. He picked up a small loose stone carefully. He thought about what he could do. It didn't seem wise to provoke directly. How about testing their detection threshold subtly? He threw the stone lightly, hoping it would fall far from the creatures themselves, only a few feet inside the paved circle.

All three featureless heads snapped in its direction with unfathomable speed and synchrony as soon as the stone clattered upon the grey asphalt. No usual snarl or angry posture was present. Rather, one of them broke away from the others, approaching the fallen stone with a stealthy, flowing walk that was both elegant and utterly strange. When it got to the stone, it hesitated, and then one of its forelimbs—which ended in a series of sharp, paper-like edges rather than a paw—extended. As though incorporating the stone into its papery form, it folded it into itself with a succession of rapid, accurate movements. Then it went back to where it had been, and the whole group assumed their watchful, apathetic posture.

Unaware that he was holding his breath, Zen released it slowly. "All right. Effective. And a little terrifying. The message was unambiguous: nothing from outside the barrier was allowed. No trash, no intruders. The system remained pure.

For another hour he remained undercover, watching them. They showed no signs of weariness or impatience, nor did they move or shift. They were superb enforcers of the sterile, uncompromising protocol of the Grove, extensions of its will. The problem was obvious: how could one get past these sentinels when his sheer existence, his equipment, and his outsider status probably violated their carefully established order? Suddenly, the angry line through the circle and the gouge on the stone marker felt very personal. It was the mark of someone who had obviously failed to impress this unforgiving system.