Notes

Before I set off for the gigantic structure in the distance, I decided to explore the small village that I had woken up next to. I walked around the crater's edge, the ruined shrine staring back at me from the bottom. Before the ash blew over it, I saw a worn circular mark made of various symbols engraved on the pedestal at the center of the crumbled shrine. The same pedestal I had woken up on. As I approached the village, its ash covered details slowly became more discernible. The bases of these old houses were multi-colored, round stone bricks and their roofs were dark wood that barely slanted up toward a central beam. Rather than windows, there were simply holes left within each foundation. Some had brick chimneys that jutted out from one of their walls. Small cracks were scattered through the rooftops and ash had piled high against the stone walls, displaying the age of these buildings since they were abandoned. 

I decided to enter the house closest to the crater. The wooden door was small, chipped, and had a poorly curved, black metal handle. I pressed my dry fingers against the old handle before wrapping my hand around it and pulling. The door swung open with ease and I was greeted with a house that I could tell once held life, but now was sapped away by the passage of time. The wind whistled quietly through the small holes in the structure, and the room had an old and faded smell to it. From what little light passed through the open door and small holes in the stone and roof, I could barely make out the furniture in the single room. To my far left was an old brick stove, its pit full of soot and charcoal. Next to it was a bed, its sheets heavily stained and wrinkled and its frame on the brink of collapse. There was a small, round dining table in the middle of the room with a broken lantern atop it. An assortment of stone counters and wooden shelves were placed against the far right wall and curved along the back corner. Everything was covered in a thin layer of dust and small cracks persisted through all the wooden and stone furniture.

I saw the shape of open books sitting on one of the stone counters. I took a few steps in before realizing that I would not be able to make much out with what little light I had. Though I could make out a few details of the things in this house, there was no way I would be able to read anything. I swiped the raggedy book from off the cold counter, attempting to take it outside where there was a bit more light. Suddenly, a strange feeling emerged from within me, like someone tugging at my heart. A thought popped into my head, one that I would not have imagined on my own, like it was someone else's thoughts who I had infiltrated my mind. I noticed a brown sash that went across my torn up dark green cloak and over my shoulder. I took it off over my head and set the semi-large bag that had been at my side on the dusty floor. I lifted the pelt cover and reached into the bag, searching for a specific shape to grace my hand. At last, the shape of the unknown object became familiar between my fingers. I pulled it out, not knowing what to expect, but whatever it was, it was not something I had ever seen before. It was a thin cylinder about the size of a pen, and it was cold and rugged like a rock. There were small carvings across its surface that I could hardly make out in the dim light. I tapped the top of the object and the carvings began to glow a faint yellow, their wave-like patterns now in full view. Suddenly, the space ahead of me was drenched in a dim light, like one that would come from the flickering flame of a lantern. The object began to warm up between my fingers with the spreading light. It was not much, but it was a lot brighter than what I would have expected from such a small object. Despite the new world I had suddenly found myself in, I still found the strange apparatus quite fantastical.

With a light in hand, I headed for the books on the counter, grateful that I would not have to read outside with ash blowing in my face. I set the lit cylinder on the counter so that it would not roll off and began flipping through the first book I saw. The text and diagrams were worn and faded, but were still clear enough to infer that this was someone's research notes. I saw diagrams that outlined what the shrine had looked like before it had collapsed. It had a rounded roof supported by eight pillars. There was a drawing on the page next to it of a strange circular mark made of various symbols, similar to the one carved in the pedestal of the shrine. Text accompanied the two drawings in a elegantly written cursive, albeit far too faded for me to make out the purpose of it. Only a couple words were just barely legible that seemed important, those being "soul," "flame," and "convergence." Any other word that I was still able to read did not stick out as much as those. All that was left that I was able to read was that whatever this research is about is based on some practice from a far land. 

I put the notes down and moved on to the next book that was pushed near the corner of the wall. As I reached for the book, my leg hit a wooden drawer that sat right under the stone counter. Though I was in a bit of pain, I could only think of the strange sound that came from it when I hit it. It was a slight rattling, like a bunch of small items knocking against each other in the tight wooden space. I pulled the drawer out, its old splintery wood creaking as I tugged at the rough handle, dust flying off its surface. Inside I saw a series of sharp triangular teeth. They were yellowish, gritty, and about the size of my palm. I immediately recognized them to be one of the teeth that I had found stabbed into my hand a bit ago. I grabbed it out of my pocket, and sure enough they looked alike, though mine was dipped in red.

After pondering on it a bit, I reached for the next book, hoping that something coherent would make itself known to me in the walls of faded ink. As I flipped through the pages, I finally found the answer to where those teeth once belonged. One page suddenly stood out to me, a page that depicted the cross section of a dragon, its wings twice its size and its head with many sharp, twisting horns. Looking at its anatomy, there were obviously things in there that I have never heard of, but it was a distinct feature that was missing that caught my eye. There was no stomach or intestinal track, perhaps the ink having faded. I flipped through the next couple pages depicting other types of dragons, only to notice the same lacking characteristic of a stomach. I found it strange, and not a single page of text was legible enough that I could figure out why this was.

I continued looking through more books that I had found scattered about, their texts being complete gibberish to me. After a while of spending all my time in these notes, I still did not have a clue as to my whereabouts or what this world had to offer other than dragons and this weird glowing pen. One thought began to cloud my mind: "How will I get back to my world?" There had to be a way for me to get back home, but perhaps I would need to look elsewhere. It was strange though, that despite waking up in a gray wasteland, something in the back of my mind was telling me that I should not try to get back home, but I could not tell why. Still, I knew I did not want to spend the rest of my life living in an endless field of ash. I struggled hard, mulling it over until something came over me. Soon the rush of sleep washed over me and my eyelids started to feel heavy while I was turning pages. The light outside did not look that much different, but nevertheless, my drowsiness took me. I walked over to the bed, its dark stains bringing me hesitance. In the end, I dusted off the sheets and pillow with my hand, and laid atop it gently so as to not break the cracked frame. That night, or at least what I thought was night, I had a long and deep sleep.