studiobondurri Chapter 145: Book 3: A Peek Behind the Curtain
Chapter 145: Book 3: A Peek Behind the Curtain
Chapter 145: Book 3: A Peek Behind the Curtain
I stare ahead into the empty space in front of me, my entire body on alert. I can feel the hairs on my body standing on end like a static charge is passing over me—every instinct I have screams at me that something's here, and that that something is dangerous. Fight-or-flight tells me to run, to turn and get away as fast as I can.
But I don't see anything in front of me. It's empty space.
Until it isn't.
Something changes between one moment and the next, and suddenly there's something standing in front of me: something old and ancient, rusted with time and seething with entropy.
"Hello." The greeting rattles around in my skull, making me wince. I grit my teeth against it. "You must be my Heir."
I don't respond immediately, largely because it takes me a moment to even be able to parse what's standing in front of me. As far as I can tell, it's a suit of armor fused with a humanoid, draconic skeleton; the gilded pattern on its armor continues straight up into its skull and wraps around seven misplaced eyesockets, and several thick golden tendrils trail from the back of its skull to its shoulders, almost like hair.
It's disconcerting, I have to admit. I've seen a lot of different things in my time on Hestia, but whatever this is, it feels wrong in a way that's hard to place—like its very existence flies in the face of logic and reason.
...And then there's a cough. It clears its throat once, and then a second time, and when it speaks again, its voice doesn't rattle in my head quite so much. "My apologies. It's been a while since I've been able to communicate with anyone—my memory of the rules are a little rusty. This should be better, yes?"
"Yes," I say, a little thrown off by the sudden change. I'm cautious, but it seems... friendly?
"I am Kauku." The entity in front of me bows slightly in greeting. "You will not have heard of me, but you have met me before. The Interface would only call on me to appear if you are my Heir. I assume you have retrieved a Talent?"
"...I was able to retrieve the ability to Anchor, yes." I examine Kauku closely. The more I look at him, the more he seems less... intimidating, less wrong, even though nothing about his appearance changes. It's like he's actively adapting to the world around him. Stranger still, I have no memory of meeting him. What does he mean, we've met before?
"I remember when I first made that discovery." Kauku's voice is fond, like he's reminiscing. He smiles at me. "You seem to have a strong soul. I'm pleased it was one such as you that managed to awaken me."
"I'm afraid I don't really know what you're talking about," I say. "What are you? Why are you here?"
"All in due time," Kauku says. "First, you have a selection to make."
Around me, the world changes.
This isn't anything like how Gheraa presents Inspirations to me. Gheraa makes a show out of it—he puts the Inspirations on pedestals, sets up a stage, and basically announces every option I have. He uses Firmament to make the props, and though I've never been able to sense where the Inspirations come from, everything he's able to do makes sense to me.
Kauku, on the other hand? All he does is wave a hand. I don't sense any use of Firmament, and yet everything around me is suddenly different. I'm no longer standing on a ledge by Isthanok. Instead, I'm floating in an empty void, with three abstract, rotating shapes in front of me. Inspect doesn't work on them, and calling them shapes is already generous.
"What are these?" I ask. Looking at them makes my teeth ache, and I turn my gaze away.
"Your Inspirations." There's a lilt in Kauku's voice that's playfully teasing. "Different from the usual fare, I understand, but these are rather more powerful than the ones you're usually offered. Although... it does seem you have some of my children rattling around in you."
"I have what?" I blink, a little nonplussed.
"They're afraid to come out, I think." Kauku laughs lightly. "I don't blame them. The creation of an Inspiration is always a little tricky; you can never guarantee they'll come out like you'll expect. Void's always hungry, and Accelerate doesn't like to talk."
This doesn't even begin to answer any of my questions. I open and close my mouth soundlessly for a moment, then finally land on something to ask. "You said they were your children?"
Now that he mentions it, I can sense within that shape the idea of... strength. Of recklessness and brutality.
"Scholar." Kauku taps on the second shape. I catch a glimpse of vast, impossible landscapes. Of knowledge, shaped into a weapon.
He moves on to the third, and this time, before he speaks, I start to sense what it is. He says it anyway. "Knight."
That one sings with power. There's something different about it—something that echoes within Kauku himself. I see steel and armor, but they seem like an illusion, placed to distract; somewhere deeper in this Inspiration lies... a well. A deeper source of power.
I'm stepping closer to it before I realize what I'm doing, and although I don't reach out quite yet, I'm sorely tempted.
"Made your choice?" Kauku asks. His voice is carefully neutral; I can't tell what he thinks of my pick.
"Not quite yet." I force myself to take a step away from the pedestals and toward Kauku. He raises an eyebrow at me, intrigued. "I know you said all in due time, but frankly, I'd like some answers now, and if I make my choice we aren't going to be able to talk anymore." Technically I have a few more Inspirations I can trigger, but nothing about them is certain at the moment. "What do you mean when you call me your Heir? And what's this about us meeting before? What role do you play in all this?"
I hesitate, then push on to my last question. It's a bit of a stretch, but... "Did you make the Interface?"
Kauku doesn't respond at first. Instead, he spends an uncomfortable moment studying my expression. "There are limits to what I can tell you," he says eventually. "I'm not the only player in this game, and we have rules we have to follow."
Not this again. The words come out before I can stop them. "People have died. Fuck your rules."
My voice is colder than I intended. Kauku stares at me as though he's expecting me to take my words back.
I do not.
Seven skeletal eye sockets narrow slightly, but then a smile steals across his face. "You do have a strong soul," he says, pleased. "It seems I may have made an error in calling it a game. My apologies. The Interface's translator is excellent, but it is not perfect. The point is, there are other individuals as powerful as I, and there will be consequences should I give you all the answers you seek."
I bristle, but force myself to calm. There's always something more, isn't there? Kauku seems to sense my indignation, because he smirks at me.
"That doesn't mean I can't bend the rules," he says. "I can't give you all the answers you're looking for. But I can make them accessible. I can give you direction. And I can help you do something you're looking to do."
He leans forward, and the tendrils behind him raise in tandem with the movement, as if excited. "You want to help your friend, don't you?" he says. "That Integrator—Gheraa, I believe his name was."
I freeze. "...Yes." There's both caution and hope in my response.
"Your suspicions are correct," Kauku tells me. Relief floods through my system. "Integrators are artificial Firmament constructs, and if you have an imprint—like the one you so cleverly saved from the echo he gave you—you can certainly bring them back. I can even tell you that the secret to doing so lies in the heart of the Empty City, so you're already headed in the right direction.
"However.
"The Empty City is far more than just a dungeon." Kauku's tone changes, becoming a little more severe. "You suspect it already. You understand what happens when an Integrator—or any source of Firmament that has made a sufficient mark in the universe—dies. There is history and memory written in that death: history and memory that contains power in its own right. History and memory of great import, even to ancient beings such as I.
"So I would like to ask for your help." Kauku takes a step forward, spreading his hands apart, almost imploring me. "There's something in there that's important to me. A memory. Bring it back to me, and I'll be able to give you some of those answers and help you save your friend."