To Fly the Soaring Tides

Cira left the questionable underground settlement behind and let her new guide do his job. For a guard, Lomp sure knew his way around the mines. She was still upset about him so selfishly ruining her cave-diving adventure, but Cira had to admit she’d be lost without him. Every turn they took opened up to a new fork in the road. There was really no end to the different paths you could take.

“How long will it take to get to the bottom?” Cira asked to break up the monotony.

“Depends.” He answered, “On this side of the island there’s two ways to the bottom, but we have to go through the Nymphus checkpoint either way. Probably a day or two on foot.”

The lowest reaches of Fount Salt consisted of two levels. The salt nymph’s lair and the mining-free zone above it, where the city of Nymphus guards the only route down.

“What’s the problem with a checkpoint? Don’t you work directly for the overseer?” Nothing can stop a determined sorcerer in her path, but Cira would rather not force her way through and cause a scene. There was always sneaking in, she could walk straight through the salt, or just sink down. But none of these plans sounded fun with some guy following her around. She would stick to procedure, as is custom.

“It’s not our checkpoint, it’s Earth Vein’s.” Lomp didn’t sound excited to see them. “They’ll let me in just fine. I’m not so sure about you.”

“It’ll work out, I’m sure. But a day or two is too long. What’s the other way to get there?”

Lomp pursed his lips. He had hoped Cira would forget he mentioned it. “The Last Step. It’s a straight drop down to Nymphus’ gates.”

“Perfect!” Cira was glowing. A pallid glow, “I wanted to get everything done first but this mine is taking a lot longer than I thought. Let’s wrap this up in a few hours so I can take a nap when we get there.”

The guard cursed under his breath before moving on. After a few minutes the tunnel they were following opened and they took a sharp turn before the path started to decline.

“Tell me about the Last Step.” Cira urged.

It spanned four levels and was a near straight shot down with only a couple alcoves to take a break in. One had to climb down to reach Nymphus. What’s more, it held a different creature. It was rare, but they say the spirits of fallen miners dwell in the Last Step.

“It’s only a shortcut for experienced climbers, we’re really better off taking the path.”

“Nonsense. You’re looking at an experienced climber.” Cira used to climb stuff all the time… when she was a kid. It was loads of fun, and she was a full-fledged sorcerer now. A tumble or two wouldn’t be the end of the world.

She really wanted to grasp flight magic, but she knew it would take the spirit of adventure out of a lot of situations. It was likely a subconscious mental block holding her back.

Every pathway looked the same to her, but Lomp navigated every turn without looking twice. “What would you have done if I wasn’t here?” He seemed irked about her unilateral course decision.

“Whatever I wanted to…?” She cocked her head, “What kind of a question is that? I bet I would have made it all the way to the salt nymphs if you weren’t around. You should really lose some width, by the way. Your form is not conducive to adventures. You already told me there’s ghosts, so obviously we’re going.”

Ghosts, spirits, specters, what have you. Different birds, different words. It was life which lingered long after the body died. Those with a greater aura, the mana attached to one’s soul, had a higher likelihood of sticking around if they held regrets or other strong emotions upon death.

They were at that point, after all, nothing but soul, manifested. Their bodies having failed or withered away. It begged the question, why would so many random miners’ souls linger here specificallly? Most people she passed on this island had below average mana. Usually ghost stories had at least a little veracity to them, and she supposed it wasn’t too far from the former site of Silver Lake.

“Why would you want to see ghosts?!” Lomp regarded her like she was crazy.

“I wear many different hats,” She gave a sly grin, “Among them is that of a researcher.”

Lomp shook his head and grumbled some more, then they mostly continued in silence for another hour. Suddenly with the next turn the floor got steeper and steeper until they were hopping down rocks. This went on for another ten minutes from a surprisingly non-argumentative Lomp until they reached a flat shelf overlooking a deep chasm.

“Well,” Lomp said, “Are you going to float us down there or what?”

“Don’t be stupid. Floating us both down the distance you speak of would be a masterful feat. That said—” She hesitated. A thought had occurred to her and just as swiftly been discarded. She could not yet fly herself, but she was capable of summoning something that could fly. For a limited time, of course.

However, she didn’t want Lomp clinging for dear life on and crying for the next few hours. It was back to the original plan.

“W-what?” Lomp asked timidly in response to Cira’s glare which had gradually intensified.

“We will climb down.” She walked over to the edge and looked down. There was no end in sight, but the walls suggested it curved slightly the deeper one plunged. Cira’s ring flashed and Aquon took the form of a wavy staff, “Verdant growth: Vines!”

A green light followed the path of water to the cliff edge where Cira aimed. Two little sprouts burst out of the ground and rapidly grew until they were hanging over the side of the cliff. As they grew, the vines thickened and sprouted leaves along their length.

“Quickly now!” Cira was already on her rope and starting to rappel down, “They’re already dying in this salt. We’ll never make it if I have to charge them all!”

She slid down gracefully as Lomp scrambled behind her, clinging onto his vine screaming. After a hundred feet or so, she held out her Aquon hand and grew another vine out of the sheer cliff face, grabbing on right as her last one crumbled and calling out above, “I’m serious, I don’t have the mana to keep holding your hand.”

“A warning would have been nice!”

He quickly got the hang of it after getting enough complaints out and Cira only had to reinforce his vine a little bit here and there. A guard like him should be limber after all. Every vine got them about a Breeze Haven's length further and they were making a decent pace of the descent. The white walls glistened in the Lamplight and every noise made echoed above and below.

“You aren’t planning on going the whole way without a break are you?!” Lomp asked, out of breath and frantically sliding.

“Why, how far are we?”

“Maybe… about a third? It’s hard to tell when we just keep dropping.” He answered.

They were making great progress after what felt like an hour. “I guess we can take a break.” She molded the salt into a shelf and took a seat.

“Seriously?! Just like that?” He landed on shaky legs, slowly bending down until he could touch the salt with his hands and feet before collapsing.

“Just like that. Take these ten minutes to think about how much longer you can rest once we get there.” Cira herself didn’t mind the chance to get a little mana back. Lomp realized that Cira would probably be out of commission for a non-insignificant number of hours when they did reach their destination. It gave him something to look forward to. The day had been somewhere between grueling and traumatizing for the poor guard-slash-guide and he longed for a break.

After only five minutes, Lomp stood up and they continued. Another hour later, the vines started growing shorter and weaker each time Cira created them. Aquon didn’t like the salt and had a pretty one-sided relationship with nature sorcery as is. It liked being near water and would lose efficacy the longer it was away from it, causing higher mana cost or weaker results.

They ran into a split path after pressing on a little longer. “Make sure to go left!” Lomp called from above.

Tink. Tink. Tink.

“And why is that…?” Cira asked suspiciously.

Tink. Tink.

“Because…” he trailed off.

Tink. Tink. Tink.

It was the unmistakable sound of a pickaxe chipping away at the salt rock. Cira led them to the right, to the origin of that sound.

“Dammit all…” Lomp lamented as he followed the trail of vines laid out for him.

The path led to a chamber that got less and less steep now. The walls were carved into like they’d been mined, unlike the sheer walls of the Last Step. Eventually the ground evened out and they were walking again.

“Why wouldn’t you want to come here? You could even camp for the night.” The chamber was large and the floor was flat. It seemed like it should be the natural rest stop on the way down.

“Because…”

Tink. Tink.

It was louder now. Just around the corner. Cira approached silently, hugging the salty wall as Lomp was waving his arms and muttering about how crazy she was, trying and failing to persuade her to leave it alone, “What are you doing?!” He shout-whispered.

“Wha-“ Cira mouthed, silently, holding out her arms like ‘what the hell?’ and giving him the most aggressive ocular shushing she could muster. I’m trying to be sneaky here, dammit.

She finally made it to the corner and started leaning past to get a look. Huh, the chipping stopped. Did it leave—

As her eyes breached the corner and she finally saw into the next chamber, they grew wide. It stood there with its knees bent, swaying and holding a pickaxe loosely in its hand. It wore a thick tan jumpsuit and stood a good head under Cira, right around Chip’s height. Its form was wisping and fading away in spots that constantly shifted.

His eyes were vacant but they were staring right at her as if he saw her coming through the wall. The pickaxe in his hand clattered to the floor and he took a couple uneven steps toward her. His ghostly joints clicked as though they had only moved a single way in centuries—he couldn’t remember how to walk and just shambled toward her.

“Muhhh,” he groaned, “Muhh, mehhhh…”

Cira backed away in a rare instance of fear. Something about its gait really creeped her out, and those vacant eyes. It’s unstable form. This soul had been decaying in torment for a very long time. With each groan his voice got a little clearer as he remembered how to form words.

“Mehhhh… me belovvved,” He managed, “Fin’ly, I found yeh. I-I knewww yeh was down here.”

His voice was choppy and some of his words dragged. Each step he took was slow and forced, but before Cira knew it, he was right in front of her. She didn’t even register the stock-still Lomp beside her.

“pllllllease stay, me lov’,” The grainy voice sounded like static and the old spirit’s accent was thick, “Won’t yeh ssssssstay with meeeee?

Cira felt a chill run up her spine and she tried to back up more but couldn’t.

What is this…? This tightening in my chest? I can’t move!

The spectral man reached out his fading hand to Cira, “Me most prrrrreshis gem. I been searching so lllllong!” His voice kept getting louder and by the end it shook the whole cavern.

Cira’s blood ran cold as his hand got closer, reaching for her golden hair. His forlorn groans had devolved into cries from centuries of pent up anguish. His face distorted and skewed more as her eyes couldn’t look away.

I can’t let him touch me. Why can’t I move?! Dammit, come on, do something! Move! She forced her jaws open “A-a… Aquon!” The Staff of Springs exploded in her hand, responding to her stress.

“Hnghh! Holy waters!” She pushed the words through gritted teeth, forcing a spell out got easier as the mana began to flow, “Send this spirit far beyond the sky!”

A flash of white blared in tandem with a rapid burst of water that filled the salt chamber with light. As the shining water passed through the spirit, his form began to piece itself back together. The faded edges came into focus and he regained his color. After a few seconds the man’s expression softened.

He looked Cira in the eyes and he said something she didn’t understand at all. After that he closed his eyes, and the rest of his form became bright, fading into little motes of holy light before disappearing entirely.

Cira just stood there for a few moments steadying her breath. Her muscles were tense when she could finally move them. She’d heard of sorcery that could inflict fear but there was no sign of a spell at play. Her fear felt more like a primal instinct.

“H-how old do you think that ghost was…?” Cira asked.

“That’s what you have to say?!” Lomp raged, “You almost got us both killed! I told you not to go his way!”

It was true, he did say that. She shuddered, “But I’ve never seen anything like that before. What was that language at the end?”

He sighed, “The ancient miners used to speak it sometimes for rituals or something. They say it was a ceremonial language, but even its name is lost. They were a long-lived people born with naturally high mana. It’s how they built everything on the island. The reservoirs, canals, pumps, all of it. They left after finding something better to mine in more hospitable lands, but nobody knows where. Only the ones that worshipped the salt nymphs remained. The language hasn’t been spoken in a long time… That spirit couldn’t have been here less than a thousand years.”

That fear I felt was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Is that just the power of regrets strong enough to linger for millenia? I was lucky I could exorcise him with no resistance. He must have accepted it at the end...

“Do you know what he said?” Cira asked, her tone sullen.

“He said, ‘Me Lov’, I’m on me way.’”

“You didn’t have to do the accent…”

At first Lomp struck her as a dullard, but he knew his way around deepest crannies of the mine like the back of his hand and even spoke a dead language. She was beginning to think he was more important than he let on. Or perhaps he used to be.

“I guess you also wear the hat of an exorcist,” her companion tried to lighten the mood.

“Not now, Lomp.”

The two disheartened spelunkers returned to the original path and Cira grew more vines. They continued the descent silently until they reached Nymphus.