The Beginning of the End

Six years later

THEY REACHED the summit of the Primorigial Sanctuary that was nestled within the Lachian Mountains. It was a hike through a temperate forest that Sirius and Lucien were no longer strangers to. They had soon stood upon the Dais of Promotion where their black Pawn marks transformed into ranked ones—Bishop and Knight respectively—almost six years ago.

It was a square platform of weathered marble that had ten columns in front of it. These were chipping away and had vines and leaves growing and littering their former glory. Atop these looming structures were statues with different carvings indicative of what someone could be promoted to: a Pawn, Rook, Knight, or Bishop, which stood on both sides of a King and Queen statue.

“Looks like we finally made it back,” uttered Sirius, squinting up at the gray structures. His long dark hair was gently kicking up in the early autumn breeze, as brown leaves were gently tumbling across the platform. “It seems redundant,” he added, “but at least we gathered the clues.”

Lucien stroked his trimmed blond beard. “We still have to see what’s behind that door.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, glancing at some of the fallen and broken columns amidst ruins that were the remains of the archaic dwellings below. “We can only hope for a real ending this time.”

“Sadly, bro, I wouldn’t count on it. Is redemption even worth it after what we’ve been through?”

The Primorigial Sanctuary was once a mighty city. It served as the cradle of Chesslandiya’s earliest civilization, equipped with everything people needed to live. But one day, God-King Dajayatan decided to lead the people to the opposite end of the world in an event known as the King’s Descent. In spreading his influence throughout the land, it gave people more room to explore their nature whilst still exercising fealty to him. As time went on, nature’s assorted foliage grew over and through the city, alienating it from then on. Chesslandiya’s grassroots remained in the past, as the peoples’ focus shifted to following their god-king. Even in the present year, 3021 AKD, the Primorigial Sanctuary is something mostly forgotten.

Sirius and Lucien approached a fractured set of stairs leading to the next level beneath the pavilion, which was also discolored from pure white to a beaten gray.

The former carefully placed his boot onto the first step, but it crumbled. A section of the fragile stonework completely collapsed into the ground, the impact a blunt thud. It kicked up clouds of ancient dust, and soon cleared to reveal a big gap between the remaining stairs.

Sirius bit his lip, while hanging his head, not out of fear, but of distress. “Aw man,” he muttered. “I was hoping to leave everything as it was. This isn’t the kind of impact I wanted to make on our history.”

Lucien joined him in overlooking the ledge, and remarked, “You okay? It’s just below us. No sense in taking the safe route now.”

Sirius perked up and agreed. “I know a spell.” He lifted his left marked hand, which had the black Bishop symbol comprising a cone sitting on top of a slender pillar and rectangular base. It faintly glowed a violet hue as a leather-bound tome manifested itself from his soul. This was his chronarm, which had a glowing harmonic core embedded into the tome’s cover.

It flipped through several pages in preparation to release the spell.

“Brace yourself,” Sirius cautioned Lucien, before uttering, “Levitate,” at which point the tome had an emerald- green outline, as did the two of them.

They gently levitated as the air spell carried them safely over the edge of the platform. Their dark cloaks and clothing fluttered during the lengthy descent.

Lucien gripped the rounded triangular pommel of the sword on his belt tightly, as his sharp blue eyes scanned the perimeter.

Sirius noticed and remarked, “I haven’t detected any soul feeders lately.”

“Maybe it’s time they reveal themselves,” he bluntly responded.

“They’re probably just waiting until we open the door.”

Since the last crusade put an end to thinning out the persistent horde of soul feeders, more and more emerged from randomized rifts throughout the world. Residents needed to be more vigilant than ever, and they did what they needed to do to keep their communities safe.

When they safely reached the ground, the green outline dispersed and Sirius’s tome returned to his soul. He and Lucien were making their way along a wall that’d been embedded into the rock face.

It soon led to a large open square pavilion. A basin was situated in the middle and surrounded by what appeared to be a sitting area. It was a few steps below the short walkway leading to a door. An archway decorated with intricate patterns surrounded it. The design stood out from everything else in the area, its material of a creamy white. Some writing was engraved in the top section of the door, which glowed white when Sirius and Lucien stood before it.

The former began reading:

“Four triangles aligned in a square,

so too must Chesslandiya bear

a rose in full bloom,

before wilting to its doom.”

Lucien’s eyes skimmed the passage, then expressed, “So eerie… but I still don’t understand how you’re able to read that, Sirius. Besides the temples we excavated, nowhere in the world does this script exist.”

He shrugged. “Must only be a black Bishop thing. I can decipher language, but can’t pick up on different combat styles like a black Knight can.”

“Yeah, but that still doesn’t explain where that language came from.”

Sirius stroked his rugged beard, deducing, “I’m sticking to the theory that when the god-king descended from here, he also wanted to change the world language to what we’re currently speaking. Sort of like a fresh start.”

Lucien shrugged. “I guess. Anyway, let’s get this over with.”

The Bishop reached for a pouch on his belt to reveal a small leather-bound notebook he used for a variety of notes. From documenting his and Lucien’s travels, to thoughts and illustrations, it was a handy guide. He flipped to the bookmarked section midway through the weathered pages to find four equivalent right triangles he had sketched, then turned to his friend. “Okay, you got the tablets?”

He nodded and brought out a scroll from his pouch.

It had various supplies sealed within them.

Since Sirius and Lucien had to travel extensively for the past six years, they utilized a piece of manatech—the product of mana and clockwork technology—called seal scrolls. All someone had to do was channel mana into the scroll with one hand while holding an object in another to seal away. They were commonly used for portable storage.

Once Lucien found the section where four triangles were inscribed into four circles in the thin-metallic scroll, he hovered his marked hand that had a black horse’s head on the back of it, and uttered, “Reveal.” His symbol faintly glowed yellow, and so did the four circles briefly before they manifested the handheld slabs.

They had various lines engraved in them that didn’t seem to mean anything on its own until it was fitted together.

Lucien carefully started placing them into the four slots at the center of the door.

Sirius’s golden eyes fixated on the pattern, as he muttered, “Roses don’t grow anywhere, and nobody knows about them, yet King Dajayatan stressed their importance.” He clenched his jaw, scratching his hair. “I hope it’s not something to help him revive their seeds or something. We couldn’t have wasted six years of traveling just for that.”

Before Lucien wedged the last piece into the door, he remarked, “Well, they do seem pretty important. Especially if we’ve seen them on murals. They might serve a ceremonial purpose.”

Sirius nodded, looking around the pavilion, noting more features that appeared to be associated with events that took place in the area.

Whether it was broken columns, walls, or small basins, he added, “And the ceremonies we saw involved a variety of things. Weddings, funerals, banquets, you name it, there’s always a depiction of a rose. The question is, what ceremony are we in for?”

“Only one way to find out,” Lucien concluded before pushing the slab into the slot.

Unlike the glowing white inscription above, the rose engraving glowed scarlet. The young men stepped back and watched as the door embedded itself into the wall, then split open from the middle. Darkness greeted them as well as a fresh breeze, like it was brought to life again.

Sirius lifted his left hand, his tome appearing and hovering above his palm again before he uttered, “Light.”

It flipped some pages in, and a brilliant yellow glowed from it.

“Down we go.”

Lucien drew his blade and walked alongside him, but shortly after going further in, the door began closing. He rushed back to attempt to wedge his weapon between the split, but realized he wasn’t going to make it in time. He decided to fling it, but it only deflected. “No! Dammit!” he shouted in disbelief. He then rammed his right shoulder into the fortified entrance.

Nothing.

He delivered a front kick.

Still nothing.

And he finally picked up his sword, where a glowing yellow harmonic core appeared on the hilt. He tried to slash at the door, but Sirius gripped him by the shoulder.

“Take it easy, man,” he calmly stated. “It’s no good.”

Scowling, Lucien lowered his blade and growled, “What are we supposed to do now?”

Sirius gently placed his hand on the door, caressing it slowly. “It’s sealed shut, Lucien,” he stated. “We’ll just have to go through the tunnel.”

The Knight grumbled, but started to make his way down the echoing corridor. “You think the god-king knew things were gonna end up like this?”

“Oh, for sure, bro,” Sirius quickly answered. “He knows exactly what he’s doing. That’s why he spared us that day six years ago. It’s under the guise of redeeming ourselves so that our marks could turn white, but I’ve been suspecting for a while that he needs our power.”

“Just anxious to know what it is, though. And why us? What makes us so special beyond our mark colors?”

The Bishop answered with a shrug, “I’m just as frustrated as you. We weren’t affected by that anomaly during the crusade. And we also seem to sense things that others don’t.” He gestured with his hand. “Like access to places like these or retrieving artifacts lost to time.”

Lucien rubbed his forehead. “Man,” he sighed. “I’m just ready for it to be over.”

As the pair continued down the narrow corridor, Sirius checked his watch.

The balance and escape wheels were the only noticeable components moving amidst the other gears, while the second hand ticked its way around.

“Thirty minutes already,” he informed.

“Seriously?” Lucien replied, raising his eyebrows. “Feels longer than that.”

Shortly after, the path started to widen and the young men emerged into a chamber.