The Core's Origin

Allan no longer looked forward to going to work. He understood that many people were disturbed by the fact that he worked in the graveyard, but he had always regarded it as a form of service to Ixel, whom Allan had worshiped since childhood.

Everything had changed six months ago. After what had been regarded as more or less years of a stalemate between Tamar and Farun, Farun had launched an all-out assault.

Things had been very odd for Tamar, as the attackers had seemed to spring up everywhere, yet there never seemed to be very many of them. Even stranger than the small numbers had been the appearance of numerous mages. These people were not the mage-priests people were accustomed to seeing serve the gods, but were godless abominations capable of wielding heretical magic in defiance of the gods.

The temples had been surprisingly silent about this inexplicable development, though Allan had heard several individual priests quietly complain about their gods’ indifference to Farun’s blasphemy.

Even all of that had not really impacted Allan’s job. No, what had changed things for him had been when the war had arrived closer to home.

War was always accompanied by famine for the common people, and often with disease or plague as well. The country’s mage-priests did not answer to the king or council, but they would still help to protect the nation’s people from the fighting between the soldiers.

Unfortunately, the heretical nature of this war had also led to the majority of the temples recalling their mage-priests back to the temples, and Allan’s town did not house a major temple.

The government had also started requisitioning food and goods from across the kingdom. Already three different groups of soldiers had collected stored food from Allan’s town, and the last few weeks had seen most of the people struggling to have enough to eat.

Allan had seen his parents and many others from that older generation opt to starve to death in order to ensure that the children were able to receive enough sustenance.

That was why Allan no longer looked forward to going to work, as he knew that he would have to prepare graves for more of the people he had known for his entire life and who had helped his parents raise him and his friends, cousins, and siblings.

Saying goodbye to so many loved ones in the recent weeks had extracted a steep emotional price from Allan, and he was truly not certain how much longer he would be able to endure. He found himself visiting Ixel’s local shrine every day both before and after work, just to try to find some comfort from Allan’s chosen god.

All he had received had been silence.

Once again, Allan woke up, went through his morning routine—aside from breakfast—said goodbye to his daughter, visited the shrine, and made his way to the graveyard.

He already was anticipating several more bodies that had once housed his friends or family members that he would need to prepare graves for. He had heard Ixel’s priests preparing the corpses in the back of the shrine during his stop. The only question was how many it would be this time, and how close he had been to them.

Allen walked through the well-maintained gate to the graveyard and continued down the manicured path through the graves and past the new mausoleum as he made his way back to the shed where his tools were kept.

Halfway through the graveyard, Allan froze. Mausoleum?

There was no one in his little town of Triple Falls with the money to build a mausoleum, and despite how perfectly the building blended with the graveyard, Allan was absolutely certain that there had never been a single structure in the graveyard other than his little tool shed.

Returning to the mausoleum, Allan saw that it was very well built. There were intricate carvings decorating a few places on the structure, and oddly enough, the plants around the building made it look as though the mausoleum had stood in that place for at least fifty years, which made no sense.

Allan circled the building, looking for the door or any indication of which family it could belong to.

How had he never seen it before?

Even stranger, there was no door that Allan could find.

On his third lap around the building, Allan noticed a small plaque on the wall facing the path that led through the center of the graveyard.

Had the writing been there before? How had he missed it the previous times he had walked past the wall?

Feeling more and more confused by the building and the mysteries surrounding it, Allan stared at the writing on the plaque.

In this place of death, life can still be found.

Tread the path beneath the ground;

Grasp the power to break free of your bonds.

Allan stared at the writing for a few long minutes. This was not a memorial. There was no name or anything else at all to indicate a person’s passing.

Stepping back, Allan looked up at the mausoleum again and at the open doors just up the steps that were next to the plaque.

This time, Allan knew that things were changing just out of his sight, because he had very specifically been searching for the entrance to the building, and none had existed until he had finished reading the plaque.

Allan had been praying to Ixel for a miracle for months, and with one finally appearing in front of him, he did not hesitate. His god had finally answered his prayers, and just as Allan had expected, he would need to reach out and grasp what his god was offering.

If Ixel wanted Allen to enter and descend below ground, Allen would willingly do as asked. He stepped forward and entered the mausoleum.

Allan walked up the four steps that were about three paces across. Entering the mausoleum, he was met by the sight of more worked stone forming the interior in a tasteful, if minimalist, design. Just two paces inside the building, another staircase started, this time descending into the earth, far, far out of sight.

There was nothing inside the mausoleum other than the staircase, and the stairs filled the entire room that was the entire building. It was lit by the morning sun that entered through the open doors, but after the fifth descending step, sconces could be seen on the walls with flames illuminating the stairs.

There was no hesitation from Allen. He stepped across the small landing and immediately started descending the stairs. They continued on and on in a straight line. After ten minutes, Allen was absolutely certain that he was no longer beneath the graveyard, and might have even left the bounds of Triple Falls.

Finally, the stairs ended. The tunnel in front of Allan was not nearly as elegant as the mausoleum. In fact, the worked rock had been growing increasingly rough as they had continued. Allan was confronted by a tunnel of raw, unworked stone that continued into the dark. The only light remaining were the few distant sconces above, and some unseen torches illuminating the depths of the tunnel out of sight.

Allan had started to get a bit uncomfortable, but his determination remained as firm as ever. He would follow Ixel’s command and gain the strength the god deemed Allan should receive.

He walked into the dark tunnel, his steps firm, though his hands shook.

When he reached the first torch, he grabbed it and removed it from the brace to use it as a light to avoid tripping in the dark, as the path had become uneven.

The tunnel curved back and forth, and in the dark, Allan lost all sense of direction. All he knew was that he had been walking for a long time, and yet all he had seen were a few randomly placed torches.

After what felt like half a day, Allan reached the end of the tunnel. He was met by the sight of what looked to be a basement of rough hewn stone. There were a few pillars and arches holding the ceiling up. The room was about six paces tall, but with the pillars and the flickering light of the torches, he could not see how far it extended in any other direction.

Entering the chamber, Allan hesitated for the first time, as he could not understand where he was supposed to go next, or what he was supposed to do. He stopped and looked around, trying to see if there were any indications of where he should go in the room. Seeing nothing, he slowly decided that he would continue on away from the entrance to the tunnel, and would proceed straight.

Less than twenty seconds passed before he caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around to look, but there was nothing there.

He stared into the dark, but could see nothing, so he turned to continue-

Which way had he been going?

Allan turned around, spinning in place. There was no indication on the floor of where he had come from, and when he looked into the depths of the room, there were no walls to be seen, nor any entrance to the tunnel he had arrived from.

Unsettled by how things kept changing when he was not looking, Allan tried to choose what he believed to be the direction he had been headed. As he proceeded, he occasionally caught glimpses of movement in the distance, but never was able to make anything out clearly.

Finally, he caught sight of something just behind a pillar that was only about ten paces away. He picked up his pace and practically sprinted for the pillar.

He shot past the pillar, turned around, and tripped over his feet when he forgot how to use them because of what was standing in front of him.

It was a skeleton.

Standing.

On its own.

What was more, the skeleton turned to look at the fallen Allan, and then stepped towards him.

Allan heard the scream of a woman or a child. The sound startled him, but not nearly as badly as the realization that the sound had come from his own throat.

He scrambled backwards across the stone floor, trying to create a bit of distance from the approaching skeleton.

The figure did not stop moving forwards, and Allan instinctively swung the sputtering torch that was still clenched in his death-grip.

The torch struck the skeleton’s skull, more by luck than any real skill, and the head went flying.

Allan screamed again when he saw that the skeleton did not stop moving, though he quickly realized that without its head, the skeleton had no way to track him as he moved.

He climbed to his feet, his eyes still glued to the stumbling skeleton that had just walked into a pillar. There was a bit of noise to the side, and Allan turned to see that the detached skull was working its jaw to roll around the floor.

Allan looked from the skull to the skeleton, and back again. He was not entirely sure what was happening, or what he was supposed to do, but he felt a burgeoning suspicion appear.

He walked over to the skull, carefully picked it up while avoiding the clattering teeth in the jaw, and then smashed it onto the floor.

The skeleton quivered once, and then collapsed to the floor.

Allan let out a sigh of relief. He was not sure what his god had sent him into the underground for, but it seemed that the dead needed to be returned to their rest.

Just as Allan was taking a deep, firming breath to try to steel his resolve, he heard something that made his breath catch in his throat halfway.

It sounded disturbingly like the clattering of bones when the skeleton had collapsed, though far more rhythmic.

Allan shakily turned his head around, and as he did, he caught glimpses of skeletons approaching from nearly every direction.

The skeletons were still at least fifteen paces away, and all of them were only walking. Allan took the moment to close his eyes and whisper a prayer to Ixel.

This trial was far more than Allan had expected, but it was clear what he needed to do, and he would not fail his god.

Allan’s eyes opened, determination filling them.

He had already succeeded once, so he just needed to do so again and again. These skeletons were nothing but bones, and with a torch or even a stick, Allan could break bones.

He looked around and moved to the side so that he would not be surrounded by the approaching skeletons. He shifted his grip on the torch slightly so that he could grab it with two hands. When the first skeleton approached, Allan stepped forward, swung for the skull with his full strength, and fell flat on his face after missing entirely and tripping over his own feet.

The torch fell from his grip and clattered on the ground. Allan reached for it, but right before his hand touched the wooden shaft, a boney foot descended and stepped right on the torch.

Allan looked up at the skeleton, just as four more arrived. He could see at least five more behind them as well.

This was bad…

***

Hera knew that she was supposed to eat the food Daddy had left for her, but even though she was eight years old, she also knew that Daddy hadn’t eaten for a long time. Hera’s tummy hurt when she didn’t eat even one meal, and she knew that Daddy hadn’t eaten for at least three days.

She had been counting.

Hera also knew that Daddy took care of her, because he was Daddy. That was what daddies did, especially when there was no mommy, like for Hera.

Still, Hera’s mommy hadn’t left that long ago, and she had told Hera to take care of Daddy when he needed it.

Well, Daddy needed to eat, and he wasn’t doing it himself, so Hera needed to take care of that!

She had packed the slice of crunchy bread that had been left for her breakfast, as well as the small pail of water. She couldn’t carry the big bucket, but Daddy had bought the little pail just for her.

Even though she knew she wasn’t supposed to, Daddy needed food, and Daddy also ate more than Hera, which meant that she needed to get Daddy more food than just her breakfast, so she had sneaked into Master Tucker’s garden and taken a few of the apples. She knew that stealing was wrong, so she had made sure to pay for the apples.

She just hoped that Master Tucker liked those pretty orange flowers she had found!

Hera was carrying the hard—no, crunchy—bread, two apples hidden in her pockets, and a pail of water. She was taking Daddy lunch!

She had been to Daddy’s work twice before; once when Mommy had died, and then later when Grandma and Grandpa had died. She knew where Daddy’s work was, and while it wasn’t a warm day, she would have a picnic with Daddy!

After all, she had to make sure that he ate, so she would have to stay with him for lunch. It was just lucky that it was going to be a picnic.

Hera passed the shrine to… Ixer? Ixen? Daddy’s god.

She passed the shrine to Daddy’s god, and knew that she was getting close. It was just four more buildings down the road, through the old metal gate that Daddy was always oiling, and she would be in the graveyard.

Daddy said the graveyard was peaceful, so Hera tried hard not to let Daddy see that she found the graveyard scary. That would make Daddy sad, and she didn’t want to see him sad again. They had both been sad for a long time after Mommy had died.

Hera puffed out her cheeks when she got to the gate. She could do this! She would take care of Daddy!

She pushed the gate open, but didn’t have the hands to close it again…

Oh well, Daddy could help her after their picnic.

Hera walked along the path. She was scared to step onto the grass, as she never knew when she might step on someone.

She walked along the path, past the stone building-

That was new. Daddy’s work only had the little building for his tools. There wasn’t any stone building.

Hera stopped and stared at the building, but then decided the new building didn’t matter. She needed to give Daddy his lunch!

She moved on to Daddy’s tool building, but the door was closed, and Daddy wasn’t around.

Hera’s arm was tired from carrying her pail of water. It was her pail, but it was still heavy, even if Daddy didn’t think so.

She set the pail down on a flat part of the ground, careful to make sure it wouldn’t spill. She was not going to spill Daddy’s water again.

As much as Hera didn’t like it, she knew what she needed to do; she needed to walk through the graves to find where Daddy was digging another hole. It was scary, but there was no other way to see Daddy when he was down in the big holes he dug.

Hera hugged the bread to her chest to protect it. She rose up on her tip-toes so that she wouldn’t step on anything she wasn’t supposed to, and then started carefully hurrying down the rows of graves looking for where Daddy was working.

One row. Two rows. Five rows. Maybe Daddy was on the other side?

Ten rows. Twenty rows.

Wait, that was it. That was all the rows.

Hera stood at the front of the graveyard by the gate, panting for breath. She had kept quiet, as you didn’t make noise in the graveyard; everyone knew that except for Daddy!

She looked around, but she wasn’t wrong. There was no hole where Daddy had been working.

She had walked straight to the graveyard from home, so she would have passed Daddy if he had gone home early, so where was Daddy? She had searched the whole place.

Looking around, Hera looked back at the new building.

Maybe it was new because that was where Daddy had been working?

Hera walked up to the building, but there was no door.

She walked around it, but there wasn’t a door on any side.

How did Daddy get in there to work?

Hera sat down on the path, not sure what she was supposed to do. Daddy was at work, but he wasn’t there. What was she supposed to do with his lunch? What about their picnic?

She was feeling a bit thirsty, and Daddy wouldn’t drink all of the water in the pail, so she could get a drink.

She walked back to Daddy’s tool building, but just as she picked up the pail, she heard a thump.

Turning around, Hera saw Daddy staggering out of the stone building through a door that had not been there when she had been looking.

Daddy was bleeding!

Hera dropped her pail and ran back to Daddy. He was surprised to see her, but picked her up. “I’m alright, little tulip. I’m alright. It’s just a scrape from where I tripped. I’m fine; promise.”

Hera tried to stop crying, but it was so scary to see Daddy hurt. Hera had scraped her knees playing before, and bleeding like Daddy hurt.

She checked Daddy carefully, but he really did look like he had just tripped and scraped his hands and knees, and maybe bumped his head.

Daddy was going to be alright.

Wait, the bread! Their picnic!