Chapter 161: You Reach The Guild Districts

Visibly, the stones were weathered until they were almost smooth, and the carvings on their walls were worn to near-invisibility. But still Elias could see them. In this situation, his eyes were not suitable, but his Art of Stone could read the faint etching that once remained in the stone, and the recognition that tugs at his spine.

Inside the Fragment of Divinity, where he had picked his Pillar of Sorrow, he had seen parts of this temple, but that one was buried deep in the earth and had survived the years relatively intact.

Once again, Elias wondered whether everything he had seen inside the Fragment was a perfect duplication of reality, or if the power of divinity within the Fragment twisted everything into a nightmarish mirror, where statues came to life and hunted him across the earth.

Well, there was no use in wondering when he could slowly investigate and discover if there were indeed any connections, and he did not think it would be that difficult. Stormfall was massive, and with his perfect memory, he was already creating a mental duplicate in his mind, he only needed to confirm his speculations the next time he entered the Fragment.

It took a while for Elias to decipher what the walls of this temple were telling him, and he was glad that he did, because the revelation that was just lying here beside the road was mind-numbing.

The engraving told the story of a lady with golden eyes, weeping tears of light as she watched her children burn. They told of a war in the heavens, of gods falling like stars, of a world remade in blood and fire.

Elias recognized the lady etched into the walls. She was the one whose corrupted and decaying remnant had tried to consume him in the Fragment. The one whose soul now sat at the edge of his infinite oceans, singing with her children.

He stood before the temple for a long time, his prism eyes tracing the carvings, his mind racing with implications.

Was there any connection between this lady and the goddess who had tried to take over his body inside the Fragment? If that was the case, did it mean that the corrupted abomination he fought inside the Fragment had been the remnant of a goddess or something else entirely?

The temple door was cracked open, and inside, he could hear chanting and weeping from a single voice that had become cracked after who knew how long they had been here. The voice was from a man, and although it was rough, Elias thought the man was praying for the return of his wife and son.

Elias frowned. The gods were dead, and praying to them was useless. It would have been better for this man to continue searching the streets of the city for his family, but Elias was not ignorant enough to understand that for most people, their strength and reach were not enough, and when disaster struck, they would run to a higher power for help, seeking the smallest bit of solace.

He did not pity the man; it was better to die on the journey of gaining strength than to remain in the dirt. The pain of weakness must be many times greater than the pain of death, he imagined.

Elias glanced at the temple one last time before he turned around and left. Unknown to him, for the last several hours as he walked through the city, a child with yellow eyes had been following him.

This child did not seem to exist in reality as his body effortlessly passed through everything in front of him, through buildings and people; however, anyone he passed through would shudder and grow pale as if part of their blood and spirit had been consumed.

The boy was gathering strength for his hunt, and if not for the purpose of remaining in the shadows, he would not have been collecting such little lifeforce but would be drawing them of everything… Elias would have seen a field of bodies otherwise.

As Elias left, the boy wanted to follow, but then he paused and looked at the temple where the voice of the weeping man echoed. His eyes lit up with amusement, and he turned to leave, and then he glanced at the walls of the temple where Elias had spent so long staring, and he froze.

A look of pain and confusion flashed in the boy’s yellow eyes, and, as if he were no longer in control of his actions, he slowly walked into the temple, and before long, a loud cry of surprise and delight emerged from it.

Ⓔ

Finally, Elias reached his destination, just two hours before the evening arrived. He had spent almost the whole day walking through the city, and yet he knew he had hardly begun to understand a small part of everything going on inside of it.

The Guild district was a city within the city, a walled enclave where the craftsmen of Stormfall plied their trades behind barriers of stone and status. The walls themselves were works of art, carved with scenes of master craftsmen at work, their tools glowing with captured Lumina, their creations reshaping reality.

The gate was guarded by two Siphons in ornate armor, their halberds crossed. They looked at Elias, looked through him, and let him pass. His clothes marked him as a worker, and workers were beneath their notice.

Inside, the district was a maze of workshops, forges, and laboratories. The air hummed with activity, not the desperate hustle of the middle tier, but the focused energy of people who knew their craft and loved it.

Elias walked slowly, drinking it all in, and loving every moment. He had been forbidden to enter this place as a mortal, and now that he had gained admission into it, there was another small stroke of satisfaction that touched his heart.

He looked at what should be a glassblower shaping molten material that glowed with internal fire, his hands moving so fast they blurred, each motion precise, each breath timed to the cooling of her creation.

Beside him was a scribe inscribing runes onto a blade with a stylus that left trails of light, his face calm, his eyes distant, as if he were in a trance, and on the opposite side of the street was a young apprentice, no older than twelve, struggling to lift a hammer that was clearly too heavy for her, her face set in determination, with her teacher watching from nearby with a small, proud smile.

Elias was reminded of his relationship with the Commander, and he ventured that in her eyes, she saw him the same way, the small child trying to lift a heavy hammer.

Behind these two was a workshop filled with the smell of ozone and hot metal, where sparks flew in controlled arcs, and the sound of hammer on anvil created a rhythm that seemed to mean something.

Elias felt a pull in his chest, the pull of the craftsman, the one who loved to make things with his hands. He had missed this. He had missed the simple joy of creation, the satisfaction of a tool well-made, and the quiet pride of a job done right.

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