A Sudden Song

A homunculus. That’s what I apparently was, and it didn’t really register with me immediately. I was still in a daze as my eyes didn’t leave the letter. I had never heard the term before, and my memories weren’t exactly available to assist either. It was still odd reading that word. There was a sinking feeling in my chest at the mere thought. The thought that I wasn’t considered human. And I couldn’t exactly pinpoint why that note bothered me as much as it did.

“So, even though I look human, I’m actually not…? Well, even so…”

I could only swallow that ill feeling that danced around my heart, pattering away without a speck of concern to my attempted dismissal. If even just temporarily, it wasn’t something I wanted to think about for now. Thus, I had to temper my mood with a separate fact instead.

“...before this, I was dead, right? It can’t be any worse than that.”

It’s certainly a considerable difference, an empty void compared to simply having a body and being alive. And the gurgling noise was gone, so that was surely a plus. Regardless, I still felt human, too. Thus, shaking my head and clearing those thoughts, I turned my attention back toward the letter.

“I ask in return that you seek to accomplish two goals that I never could. The first, to take care of the Bastion—the concrete form of all my aspirations and my greatest achievement.”

A confusing request, to say the least. I couldn’t figure out what this “Bastion” even was, and the writer of the letter was basically assuming I was already informed. And not only that, who unloads all the work of managing an entire “Bastion” without an orientation first? If this was the byproduct of a padded resume, it was no different than taking on a job that was well beyond my capabilities, skipping the interview and getting hired nonetheless.

Qualifications… If having memories is a requirement, then sorry, I don’t believe I’m the right person for this position. I didn’t actually believe I’d get the job either, and was simply filling a quota by applying. But really now, are you that short on staff?!

It would be nice if the Bastion was nothing more than a plant in desperate need of watering due to their owner being on vacation. But the thought of drowning this Bastion and getting fired for my incompetence sent shivers up my spine. Where would I even go if that were the case?

Oy vey, now that’s a thought.

It was complicated. Without knowing what it was in detail, I couldn’t really get an idea of how someone like myself would be able to care for such a thing. Also, it was pure negligence to even employ a memory-less, incubated idler. I could only hope that the letter would explain further or I was correct in my wishful thinking of the Bastion simply being a plant.

"The second..."

“No! Don’t just move on without explaining what a Bastion is! But hey, you couldn’t help but declare that it’s your greatest achievement at least! Very relevant! Do you just want someone to praise you? Fine, I will, but only if it’s a Knowlton’s cactus.”

“...as the Tribunal Seas rise once more, those who have survived the first surge will have nowhere to retreat to upon the second. Thus, that is the purpose of the Bastion—to become a safe haven, a home, to all that wish to live. I entrust this to you, as we are one in the same, Luim.”

And there it was, the only memory I had regarding myself, and it was written in a letter of all things. My name. Luim. And after reading that, it only made the letter all the more personal. It really was directed at me and not anyone else. Yet, I still couldn’t entirely grasp what the letter wanted me to accomplish.

The Bastion’s purpose…

Once again, I studied the interior of the circular room, now noticing that there were seemingly two separate exits across from one another. A faint light that was illuminated along the creases of the doorway, while the other was the top of an enshrouded stairway leading down.

Is this place the Bastion, then?

And if it wasn’t, the writer of the letter would be the only one to blame for my misunderstanding. After all, there was nothing more to the letter. That was everything written besides a signature that was partially damaged at the bottom.

“Artificer… Yeah, other than that, the name is completely gone. Well, I guess I can’t really rely on this ‘Artificer’ to figure out where I go from here, huh?”

There was only one other option for me then, or at the very least, the most reasonable start. If I really was already inside the Bastion, then learning more about it should certainly come first. I could figure out what I should do only after that.

“And for my other choice…”

I took another glimpse at the two opposing exits. The doorway of light, or the stairway into darkness. The heaven versus hell vibes were rather immaculate, but it made the decision an easy one to make.

“Naturally, I’ll choose the doorway of light.”

I wasn’t really religious, nor did it feel as if I were even a faint believer of any specific religion either, but descending into some alluded hell was against my personal beliefs. The belief that I’d rather not die for a second time, especially when it comes immediately after gaining a new life. Besides, the Bastion could easily be a fortress of traps, too. Whatever a homunculus was, it definitely didn’t come with night vision.

“Unless the bright light that lies beyond that door is a delayed reel of memories, I can’t see this being the wrong choice.”

I tucked the piece of paper into my pocket and proceeded toward the doorway. There was nothing but silence on the way over, yet the moment my hand touched the doorknob, another faint sound tickled my ears. Unlike the incessant gargle from before, this sound was beyond alluring.

“Someone is…singing?”

There was a gentle melody coming from underneath the door, pleasing and calming enough that I was now frozen in place. It was akin to a spell disguised as a familiar lullaby, drawing all of my attention without reserve. But the longer I listened, the stronger the desire sprung from within. I needed to follow the voice, and that yearning helped overcome my lodged bare feet, finally pushing me through into the open.

“Where is this…?”

And with an energetic gust of wind passing through me, it was difficult to take in all at once. At the end of the balcony, a woman stood ahead, waving her hands while encircled by what seemed like several miniature stars, all dancing alongside her. With her every motion, they dragged their stardust around her as if she was twirling a ribbon covered in glittering jewels. And behind her, a horizon of nothing but clouds, dimly lit by the luster that hovered above us.

“Follow me, my children, to the lands of green pastures~”

My feet were moving on their own, as I spectated her every movement in silent awe. It was a shackling display, yet the faint machinery of song that drew me closer was benign and forgiving, freeing my mind from any lingering worries.

“It may be barren now, but with our hands, we shall reclaim what was lost~”

The shine of her silver, short hair mimicked the moon’s grace, with the bottom tips seemingly dipped in luminescent gold. Her crimson eyes could sway the stars’ direction with a mere glance, and she did just that as she interlocked her hands at her chest.

“We flee, we flee, bearing the echoes of our ancestor’s cries~”

She peered at the moon, then closed her eyes as the dancing lights twirled toward the skies above her. It was as if she were praying to the sovereign moon.

“We flee, we flee, for the irascible oceans have eyes~”

In a mere blink, I was already a few steps away from the songstress that had yet to notice me. She then stretched her hands toward the departing stars. Her expression was one of grieving, as she tearlessly reclaimed her arms, pressing them against her chest once more.

“And we flee, so we may chance our freedom for another day~”

And finally, she turned around, meeting my widened eyes and sudden, involuntary applause that I quickly halted. We were then absorbed in silence, not speaking a single word to one another. An inescapable net of bewitching luster surely blankets all, but it was as if the moon's presence was being exclusively shared momentarily between only the two of us.