The Monastery

When the floating slab rose to the surface, autumn had arrived in Aparthia. The air smelled of rain and dried leaves. Horse neighed and jumped across fields of burnt sienna, sniffing at every blade of grass and weed he could find.

“Where are we?” Deme asked.

“This is central Aparthia,” Lavenza realized.

“We walked around in the Abyss for a long time,” Richard said. “It doesn’t surprise me that we’re all the way out here.”

“Okay,” Deme said. “So, where are we going next?”

“Further east,” Lavenza answered.

“What’s further east?”

“The old Menuan monastery, for starters,” she said. “My old home. We can restock there and continue east again.”

“Even further east than east?” Deme raised an eyebrow.

“Most of the old tales about Rafta come from the far east,” Lavenza shrugged. “Maybe we need to chase the old legends to find any traces of the flower that remain.”

“Hey," Richard said. "Is it evening right now?"

He was watching the sun hanging low on the horizon. It cast a pale, sick amber glow. Long shadows stretched across lonely hills. The fields where Horse pranced about shimmered beneath feeble light.

“No,” Lavenza said, “that’s the morning sun.”

“Morning?” Richard muttered. “Right.”

“It’s cold,” Deme shivered as a gust howled through the plains. She reached into her knapsack for a cloak and sweater. “It’s like winter never left.”

“Come on,” Lavenza said. “Let’s make it across the plains for starters.”

They all soon realized the days had shortened. The sun spent little time in the sky and what warmth it offered was balanced by gusty, frigid winds. Evening arrived before anyone expected, and the nights proved colder than any winter in recent memory.

“Can’t believe it’s supposed to get worse than this,” Richard murmured as he tossed kindling into the campfire. “I think we should hunt some bears or something. Make some fur coats out of them.”

“You’re free to look, if there are any around,” Lavenza replied. “There aren’t many animals that roam near the monastery.”

“I don’t know how you don’t feel cold,” Richard frowned at her loose, thin robes. “Must be that Menuan training or something.”

“Yes. Menuan training.”

Deme slept in her tent nearby. Horse munched on some grass and what remained of Tamarin’s mushroom mixture. Lavenza sat by Richard around the fire. As usual, she raised her staff and summoned the magic of the ley lines held within. This time, she also fetched the heart of stone from her pocket realm and lifted it into the air.

“So? What happens now?” Richard motioned towards the Demon King’s heart. “You’ve got your magic. You’ve got that rock.”

“Well,” Lavenza said. “We go to the Menuan monastery. And then…whatever happens, happens.”

“And what about the old headmistress?” Richard asked. “I’m surprised we haven’t run across the her again.”

“She’s waiting for us at the monastery.”

“She is?” Richard asked. “Right. So she is. Maybe I should trying to figure out what her plan is.”

“That would be for the best, yes.”

“And what comes after that, Lavenza?”

“After?”

“Well, after,” Richard gestured with his hands, “whatever happens, happens.”

“After,” Lavenza murmured. “I suppose there’s nothing after. It’ll just be the end of things.”

'“No break for Lavenza?” Richard joked. “I thought you might reward yourself with some comfy winter retreat.”

“I don’t think there’ll be time for that, no,” Lavenza chuckled.

They both gazed at the fire for some time before speaking again.

“Richard,” she whispered. “You don’t have to accompany us, you know. There’s not much time left. If there’s anything that you need to take care of before…”

“I thought about it,” Richard replied. “Returning to Centa Muis. I was thinking of boarding a ship to The Opposing Shore. But I thought about a little more and…”

“And what?”

“Faye and Tamarin,” he said. “They were my only family. We went on so many adventures together. We were so proud when we were commissioned by the empress. It was a great honor. Now, they’re down there in the Abyss. Maybe they’re petrified already, I don’t know.”

The hero wielded a plank of firewood as one would a sword. He swung it around, weighed it against the heaviness of his usual blade, then chucked it into the campfire.

“It doesn’t feel right,” he said, “leaving them for whatever’s on the other side.”

“There’s no Aparthia to save, Richard,” Lavenza said.

“Well, on that, I think,” he paused for a moment, “I think I was scared. Of dying, I mean. I thought I was prepared for it when I set out with the party, to find absolutely nothing. But, the more we found nothing, the more I think it got to me. How could there be nothing?”

“That’s quite normal, though.”

“It’s more than that,” Richard laughed. “You get named a hero, right? The Hero’s Party. You read all the children’s stories in the library. The hero wins. Every time. The hero finds a way. He’s backed in a corner. He finds a way. That’s what I thought I was. That’s what I thought would happen. We’d find a way. Now? I’m not so convinced.”

“It’s not over till it’s over Richard.”

“You’re right,” he nodded. “I shouldn’t kick myself over it again. Faye wouldn’t like that. Good night, Lavenza. Try not to stay up too late.”

They reached the monastery by the end of the week. The sun’s condition weakened day by day. The clouds grew pallid as if bloated with rain that they could not expunge. All color but a dreadful orange drained from the sky. Some days appeared like a perpetual twilight. At those times, it seemed like any moment, the Endire could blink and vanish.

On the day they arrived, the sun decided to grace Lavenza with an unusually bright morning. When they gazed out over gray hills at the Menuan monastery, it looked as if her home had not changed in many years.

The monastery lay between the embrace of two mountains. A dozen separate gardens dispersed across the grounds. The groves surrounded a main courtyard. At its core stood the central hall, its roof pitched with dark mossy tiles. Gravel paths ran from there to other buildings etched from Lavenza’s memory. The glass stained chapel. The old scriptorium. The kitchen that always smelled like fresh bread.

And then, one of the paths became a series of steep, winding steps that snaked up the mountainside. Once one ascended the staircase, they reached the plateau and the temple sitting atop it, coated with red brick walls and a collage of historic murals.

“How much of it looks the same?” Richard asked.

“So much of it,” Lavenza chuckled. “It’s almost like it’s been stuck in the past.”

“This is where you grew up?” Deme said. “It must have been so beautiful here, especially when there were more people.”

“I’m glad you think that, Deme,” she smiled. “Come on, you two. There’s someone waiting for us down there.”

“Are you sure, Lavenza?” Richard eyed her cautiously.

“You’ll see, Richard. Follow me.”

Together, they traced a path down the hill to the monastery grounds. The closer they came, however, the more the monastery’s pristine image began to fade. In the groves, the herbs and vegetables had long disappeared. Whatever top soil remained gave birth only to dry weeds and short grass.

Shattered, dusty windows lay about the chapel. The old scriptorium had been looted; shreds of torn paper and overturned desks littered the outdoor patio. The bread baskets and fruit bowls in the kitchen sat barren.

And then, at the end of the courtyard, fenced off by oakwood palisades, a silhouette emerged at a dried up fountain overshadowed by the central hall.

Lavenza felt a spark at first, a taste of an ancient raw power that used to terrify her. Like everywhere else in the monastery, however, the closer she drew to the old woman by the fountain, the more this power diminished.

The woman gazed at crows loitering on the roof of the main hall. Her trusty cane lay sprawled across her frozen lap. Her hands held her golden headband between rigid fingers. Despite the breath of a pleasant wind, her silver hair did not sway. It lingered by her cheeks, stilled and clumped together.

Headmistress Eifen did not greet them as they approached.

“Hello there, headmistress,” Lavenza bowed. “It seems you were right. We have met yet again.”