Young Flame

The days and weeks following the Island’s destruction and subsequent developments were less eventful than I’d expected.

As much as I want to run off and rejoin Leal and my team now that I’m no longer tied down by punishment, I can’t very well leave. Not when I’m the only one able to oppose the Anatla’s influence.

We don’t have enough information about what happened that day. Nothing explains why the Titan Alps collapsed the way they did. Obviously, it is linked to the Titan or Anatla in some way, but no matter how strong the being’s roar could be, it just doesn’t make sense for the Alps to sink the way they had. Nor does it explain the permanent Ember Moon.

After that day, the Ember Moon never left. Where before, her flames would light the sky for half an hour, now it remains burning endlessly. The night is no longer dark. Crimson light illuminates all besides the shade beneath the Alps.

The only answer is that Eldest Ember is forced to cast her protection constantly. That short period in the middle of the night isn’t enough anymore. Something in our world has changed. Something irreversible. Have the Anatla broken through their barrier? Then what of the Titan Alps? How is that involved?

We returned to the Agglomerate, dreading that the city was destroyed in the devastation considering its proximity to the Alps. We found the place buried, but otherwise standing; a surprise, considering the place was entirely made of glass. Rock and gravel buried the entire Alps side of the Agglomerate, but it stood out like a gem in rock from our approach.

Apparently, the boulders burying the city weren’t from the Titan Alps itself, rather a mountain that crumbled along the Steppes. Whether fateful or not, the mountains tumbling down the steep slopes of the higher elevations all tumbled into the crevasse that widened upon the Alps sinking.

I’d love to say it was fortunate, but many mountains along the Steppes still faced the same terrible quakes. The eastern races at the base of the mountains likely didn’t avoid tragedy.

With most of the Agglomerate covered, it had felt far colder walking between pillars of glass. The grand elders said they could clear the rock, but it would take many years. A disappointment, but at least it would return to normal one day. Assuming Armageddon doesn’t arrive before then. Assuming Armageddon hasn’t already.

The ocean hasn’t receded. We’ve been watching the shore for weeks now, but it doesn’t so much as back off a centimetre. It doesn’t creep forward at all, which is thankful, but it doesn’t look like we’ll be reclaiming the lost sands. If we were pressured by strained resources before, that threat has only doubled now that we’ve lost half our wasteland. I’m happy that it’ll encourage us to push for good relations with the eastern nations, but it’s still rough to know we’ll have to rely on an outside source.

Originally, moving to the Titan Alps was a decent alternative. There was an excess of resources, and while it would take a long time to adjust everyone to the increased difficulty of living there, it was possible. But now… well, I’m not sure I’d be comfortable traversing all that loose rock, and I have an easier way out than most.

We are all in a state of indecision. None of what has happened is something we can truly plan for, so all we can do is adopt a ‘wait and see’ approach. If the Alps drop further, or Titan’s do something unprecedented, there’s not much we can do, but at least we can try to keep as many safe as possible. On that topic, the grand elders have had the Agglomerate evacuated for the near future. At least of any that couldn’t handle a mountain falling on them.

Right now, I’m flying over the ocean again. After shutting down the Island’s water production, I’d declared I would stay as far from water as I could… which was a stupid thing to claim, as I already find myself breaking it. At least on this flight, I don’t need to worry about any downpour. The air is clear, and the sun is bright. As perfect a day as it is, I can’t relish it. It feels too calm; like the moment I relax, the world will tear itself apart. Despite the misleading weather, I just need to look toward the Alps and moon to know things aren’t as they seem.

I’m out here, flying toward the former location of the Island, entirely by my own determination, because some of the grand elders had reported that Charybdis is no longer around. I didn’t believe it, so here I am.

And they were right; there is no sight of the immense whirlpool anywhere. I’ve expanded my search wide in case I missed it, but it truly is gone.

Was the only reason the Titan remained to our west because it was trying to destroy the island? Or the Anatla inside?

What is particularly strange in my search, is the appearance of islands where there were none before. Dunes of sand rise out of the waters. Curious, I land on a small island that doesn’t rise more than my height from the — now still — water. The sand is identical to what I’m used to in the wasteland, and like that sand, it drains the surrounding water rapidly. I watch as the grains disappear, but so too does the level of water. Before my eyes, the ocean sinks. Millimetre by millimetre at most, but it dips lower, revealing more sand.

The sand is even more intense in its swallowing of water than what I’ve seen in the wasteland. I cast my sight around again, and as I watch, many more dunes poke into view.

Why is the water level dropping here, but not back where it touches the wasteland? This doesn’t look like an effect that occurred only suddenly. Is it because the Titan left? Or is it because the Island no longer pumps out water to fight the constant drain on water?

Now that I think about it, why did the Island pump out water like it did? It hardly seemed like a weapon until the Anatla pushed it beyond its intended capacity. Did the ancient race try to push against the drain of sand to keep themselves afloat? That doesn’t seem right; they had all those mining machines, after all. If anything, the Island was likely built on some mountain and the flooding ocean rose to surround them.

Considering all this sand draining the water in the area, I can only consider two possibilities: first, the ancient race created the sea themselves with their island; second, the Titan pumps out enough water to create an ocean wherever it moves. Those cubic ships are proof enough that it was an ocean all those years ago.

Wait… only a couple vessels remained at the island. Almost all others we’d found were along what was likely the coast over a thousand years ago. Did they flee the island? But what about that single cube vessel we found almost dead centre in the wasteland? How did it get there?

Another glance to the dropping water level, and it clicks. However many thousand years ago, the wasteland wasn’t a mass of vast deserts and canyons; it was an ocean. My mind flicks back to that wooden ship my tribe met the Kenna tribe so many years ago. It, the ancient cubic vessel, along with the fact that much of the desert is at a lower altitude than sea level all leave no doubt in my mind the wasteland was once an ocean.

How? Where did all the water draining sand come from to turn an ocean into such a vast landmass?

Charybdis.

That’s the only answer that makes at least some sense. The Titan is only ever visible as a whirlpool, swallowing all water and anything unfortunate enough to fall within. No creature can survive without eating, and if the Titans aren’t an exception, they need their energy from somewhere. So where does the Charybdis get its food?

Maybe I’m overthinking this, and the Titan can sustain itself upon the schools of fish and whatever else falls within its whirlpool, but I’m sure there’s something more. It constantly swallows water, but considering it pumps out just as much, I’m sure it can’t consist itself entirely on what its body outputs. So, what if, considering the animals of the world are too small, it takes its energy from the elements themselves? The Charybdis moves from ocean to ocean, swallowing waters for a thousand years until there’s nothing but its own water left.

The water draining sand of the wasteland can’t be found anywhere in the lands to the east, so what if that sand is all that remains of the water after the Titan drained it of all its hyle? If the sand is some sort of anti-water hyle, then that would explain why it cancels itself out with the water of the ocean, and why it only happens where Charybdis has been.

Knowing that, it’s possible the Titan was attracted to the immense output of water from the ancient race. Or maybe it chased them down to destroy the Anatla. But my best guess for the purpose of water generation, was also to hold back the Titan from destroying their Island, and they’d painted the Inscription that called the Anatla because they needed more power to push back the Titan.

Really, it’s impossible to tell which happened first.

At some point, the ancient race had abandoned their Island. Whether in fear of the Anatla they brought upon themselves, or the Titan that encircled them, I don’t know. They took all their vessels and made for the newly formed wasteland.

They made it to land, so I’m sure they could have rebuilt… so why is there no more of their unique architecture through any of the eastern lands?

I’m sure my grand elders would have records of an old, advanced race amongst the wasteland if they had to share, but there is not a word or mention. Whoever the ancient race were, they’d clearly moved on. Not surprising, considering most fleshy races struggle to survive in what they consider the harsh environment of the wasteland.

Most likely, they moved east and forgot their old technology. Momentarily, I consider if any of the races I know might fit what I know, but nothing seems right. The Centzon are still prime suspects, but if some of their kind discovered a path across the Alps back then, wouldn’t there be some on our side of the Alps now?

My mind pivots to the Monolith Anatla and the changes it brought upon. It couldn’t control things directly, but its influence could definitely alter the state of what it affected. An áed’s fire burnt up in seconds, incinerating everything, even water. The energy fuelling the water production amplified, pushing the inscriptions to achieve far beyond their designs. Leal’s hands and feet had grown furrier, with claws lengthening, like she was becoming something more primal.

It reminded me of how the Void Fog changed the things it touched. The Fog never directly controlled the alterations. Rather, it pushed one’s desires to direct their twisting form. A loyal warrior would gain the strength to fulfil his lord’s wishes. A girl who fears being trapped, gets a way to avoid all chains. And a woman who is starving loses all restraint and eats everything, even if it destroys her stomach.

They are similar, but clearly have their differences. The influence of the green storm cares not for one’s thoughts or desires, but reflects the pure nature of what it changes. As it changed the fire of my elders, it took the concept of burning and consuming, and pushed it to the extreme.

So, what if the Monolith Anatla already had its influence in the ancient race when they fled?

From how it affected Leal, it might make any fleshy creature more savage. Taking them and reverting them to a more brutal beast. Forget any of the eastern races, these ancient people might not even be people anymore.

With the knife-like finger inserts they used in their interface controls, I probably should have seen it sooner. The design of their residences appearing much like the gulches I’d seen in the wasteland is only further proof.

The ancient race are chthonics.

For people advanced enough to create unbelievable machinery to fall so far… well, I’m not sure what to think. I’ve always thought of the chthonics as nothing more than beasts. That they were once something greater, able to hold off a Titan with their technology — even if it relied on the power of an equally terrifying being — is… sad.

To lose one’s mind might be worse than death. Did they realise what was happening to them? Prisoners in their own heads? Or did their thoughts regress with their bodies?

To be honest, I’d been hoping the ancient race was still around. Only… not like this. I’d already met so many new races in the past years that I never knew existed, which had turned out… well, not always great. But there are plenty I’ve come to trust amongst them. The world is enormous. Larger even than my ageless elders can comprehend. It isn’t impossible to think there’s other, completely alien cultures just beyond our borders.

But the chthonics never left the wasteland.

I stare out over the smaller, yet still impossibly large Titan Alps, and consider the future. Change is coming. There is no doubt about that. Whether it comes from the áed finally reaching out a hand to the eastern nations, those nations crumbling between the war and disaster of the Alps collapsing, or simply the now eternal Ember Moon and what meaning lay behind it.

There was doubt before. Kalma’s words rang with the tinge of a madwoman. But now, the world is already buckling around us. I cannot deny the events as they happen.

Armageddon is coming.

I am certain of it, and yet we know next to nothing about what it means. Why are the Anatla trying to reach our world? What holds them back? Is the fate of the chthonic what lies ahead of everyone? Will it be worse? Nothing is clear. Whether or not it is even possible to stop Armageddon, we do not know.

There is too much uncertainty, but I will discover the secrets of the world, no matter how far I have to go.

I’ll burn the world to keep mine safe.