Die. Respawn. Repeat. - Chapter 71: Book 2: New Locations

It turns out that Mari knew what she was doing. Sort of.

Tarin can still move fast while he’s… drunk. Or high. I don’t exactly know what those berries did to him, but he seems to be enjoying himself a lot. The key thing here is that the traveler’s berry — as he called it — does slow him down. It just puts him mostly on par with me in terms of speed.

It’s a little embarrassing, but without me straining my Firmament to its absolute limits, we actually make better time.

[ You have discovered a location! Location found: The Tired Ruins (Rank B) ]

[ You have discovered a location! Location found: Haunted Village (Rank C) ]

[ You have discovered a location! Location found: Spawn Pit (Rank A) ]

[ You have discovered a location! Location found: Quiet Grove (Rank N/A) ]

It’s been a while since the map’s explicitly called out that I’ve found a new location. At the speed we’re going at, we pass by several structures and strange anomalies, all of which are apparently just on the path towards the Great Cities. The Tired Ruins look like the remains of a sagging stone castle, strewn about a massive field that stretches over the horizon. Empty suits of armor wander it, some of them missing entire pieces. Which is how I know they’re empty.

The Haunted Village is… pretty much exactly that. What’s worrying to me is that it looks remarkably similar to a clone of the crows’ own village, except darker and without any of the life that the crows bring to it. Everything is painted in shades of muted blue, and the layer of dust tells me that no one has been here in a while.

Thankfully, the monsters that roam it are not ghostly crows. They look, if anything, like rotating orbs of ghostly energy. I can sense the Firmament radiating from them. I almost want to stop and fight them, but Tarin keeps going when I try to get him to stop, and I make a frustrated noise in my throat and follow him.

The Spawn Pit is… pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Tarin and I fly over it, and we see no small amount of snake-creatures writhing around within it. I shudder a bit and cloak myself in a Barrier.

The Quiet Grove is where we finally choose to take a break. I’m surprised the Interface marks it as a location at all — there doesn’t seem to be anything interesting here, it’s just a small cluster of trees that sits in the middle of a field. It’s as good a place as any to stop for a break, and so that’s what we do.

And it’s only when we’ve been here for a while that I realize the likely reason this place is marked the way it is.

There’s something here.

It’s a strand of foreign Firmament, because of course it is — but what’s interesting about it is that my Firmament sense doesn’t pick up on it in the usual way. It manifests as a low hum in my ear, reverberating like the beats of a distant drum, inaudible to anyone except to those with a particular sensitivity to Firmament.

“There’s something here,” I say out loud, mostly for Tarin’s benefit. The sound vanishes almost as soon as I speak.

“What you mean?” Tarin asks me, and I hold up a hand to shush him. He bats my hand away indignantly. “Ethan! You not just say something here and then not tell me what!”

Evidently, he’s still a little drunk.

“It’s a sound. I’m trying to find it again,” I say distractedly. The sound comes back whenever either of us aren’t talking. Maybe the name Quiet Grove isn’t a reference to how loud the grove is. Maybe it’s an instruction.

Or maybe I’m applying too much logic to the absurdity of the Interface.

Ahkelios, to his credit, isn’t making a sound, although I can tell he’s curious from the way he squints at the air around us — no doubt trying to sense whatever I’m sensing for himself. He doesn’t seem to be having much luck in that regard, but I leave him to it.

What I don’t understand is what this is supposed to be. A puzzle? A secret? Something that’s always been on Hestia, hidden away until it was marked by the Interface?

The sound shifts.

The longer we’re silent, the louder it sings; Firmament hums through the air at me, weaving itself into a quiet song that aches with nostalgia and familiarity. It’s clear enough to my ears that I glance to both Tarin and Ahkelios, to see if they can hear what I’m hearing — but neither of them are reacting to the song that’s playing.

Just me, then.

Under my breath, I begin to hum along with it.

It’s more a subconscious than anything; it’s not like I’m intentionally trying to burst into song. But Tarin’s eyes widen as soon as he hears the first few notes, and he practically tackles me, a feathery blur burying itself into my abdomen and sending me sprawling. The Barrier I called up reduced the impact enough to prevent me from bruising, but…

“Ow,” I say plainly. It doesn’t hurt that much. “What gives, Tarin?”

“You hear song!” Tarin looks both excited and worried all at once. “Here?”

“Yes?” I confirm. It’s not like I’ve heard this anywhere else.

“Song is big.” Tarin focuses on me, his gaze suddenly razor sharp. “You not sing the song. It special. For you only, understand?”

“But what is it?”

“Song…” Tarin pauses, trying to find the words; he fluffs up his feathers in agitation as he does so. “Song is message. Song is prayer. Song is heart.”

It takes me a second to make the connection. “Like… Hestia’s Heart? The Heart of the planet?”

“Yes!” Tarin nods vigorously, relieved that I’ve picked up what he’s trying to say. “You hear song, it only for you to hear. Not for you to share.”

“But it’s just… a song. What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Listen,” Tarin says. “No more talking! You listen. Hear Hestia’s Heart. Yes?”

“Fine,” I grumble. It’s not like he’s giving me much of a choice.

I close my eyes. It helps a little, I think. I hear Tarin move away to give me more space, and my Firmament sense tells me Ahkelios moves with him. The noise they make fades away, and the Quiet Grove’s silence once more settles over the grove.

Slowly, the song begins again. I hear it in trickles: a slow, drumming beat at first, and then an emerging melody that aches with the sound of a forgotten childhood, a lost friend, a past lover. It feels almost like I’m listening to someone else’s private, mournful song.

But it’s the Heart, according to Tarin. The Heart of the planet — the thing the Integrators are after. The point of the Trial, hidden deep within the recesses of the Fracture, which is also the origin of what the system labels Anomaly 006. The explosion that rips the planet apart.

Tarin tells me this is a message, so I listen closer, trying to peer through the song into whatever the Heart might be trying to tell me. Part of me feels a little ridiculous doing this. But it’s no more ridiculous than anything else I’ve done since arriving on this planet, so it’s hardly a surprise when something changes.

My earlier practice with Firmament helps. There’s something to the music — layers hidden within the Firmament, just below the surface of the song. If I focus my senses and tease it apart…

There is a message in there. A whisper beneath the song, so quiet it’s hard to make out.

So quiet it’s only audible in a place specifically created to be silent.

That’s what special about the Quiet Grove, I think. It’s not that the ‘quiet’ part of its name is an instruction, or even that the Interface chose to dignify this random, calm spot in the middle of nowhere with a location name. It’s something about the Firmament that runs through the trees and around the edges of the grove, sucking up every spare bit of sound so that not even the rustling of the leaves and grass can be heard.

The place is quiet. The name is quite literal.

More importantly, I hear what the Heart is saying.

dying, it whispers. help

Am I supposed to respond to it? I don’t know how. The way it speaks through Firmament is entirely foreign to me, and although I make an attempt to reach out with Firmament Manipulation, the degree of control it takes to attune Firmament to sound is… somewhere far beyond me.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. The Heart continues, the tone of its voice shifting, as if surprised.

pawn of the Integrators, it says. you hear me

…It’s probably better that I can’t respond. My fists involuntarily clench at being called a pawn, when I’ve worked so hard to be anything but — and at the same time, a new fear blooms within me. Have I been playing into their hands this whole time?

A short pause, and the Heart continues, sounding almost… amused.

no, not pawn, it hums. you make your own path through the storm. perhaps you will be different

listen well, not-pawn

i have lived through this cycle many, many times

so many i have lost count

but it is close to three hundred

perhaps a little over

if you wish for things to be different

you cannot walk the same path

i see you have already begun to do things differently

but it will not be enough

seek out the echoes from the cycles of the past

break the hold of the Interface

you have found one of them

there are many, many more

you do not need them all

but you will need some of them

if you are to face what lies ahead

The Heart’s words are whispered and airy, sung to a cadence that’s akin to the lyrics of a song. It’s actually a little difficult to follow. It pauses there, as if to give me a moment to process what it’s said, and then it continues.

i have come to know the Integrators well

they are many

but they are not the same

their Firmament is so old

so broken

some breaks are better than others

if you have found an ally, keep them close

but look for the cracks

also, your two lost ones are temporally dislocated

they are safe but lost

you may need to find them

good luck

The song fades, and my mind is left awhirl with thoughts.

It sounds like the Heart approves of Gheraa, for a certain definition of ‘approve’. The mention of the two lost ones are almost certainly K’hkeri and Rotar; it’s a relief to know that they’re alright, but much more concerning to know that they aren’t just going to reappear.

Temporal dislocation doesn’t sound like a healthy condition, but it’s not like that gives me any leads on how to find them.

“Alright,” I say out loud. “I’ve heard its message. I don’t think any of it is something I needed to keep a secret.” I glance at Tarin, who shakes his head vehemently.

“Secret!” he insists, and then, softer, “Integrators watching.”

On that note, I suppose, he has a point. I shouldn’t talk openly about everything, especially not its words about the Integrators.

But there’s something else weighing on my mind. The words the Heart opened with.

i have lived through this cycle many, many times

so many i have lost count

but it is close to three hundred

perhaps a little over

I’ve seen that number before. I remember how the Interface introduced me to this world, back when I was first summoned and tossed into the Trial.

[ Welcome to Hestia 307B! ]

What if that three hundred and seven records the current cycle Hestia is in?

That’s three hundred and six other loopers. Three hundred and six times the planet has been through the same Trial, over and over.

“Hey, Tarin,” I say. “How many Trialgoers have been on Hestia?”

I hope I’m wrong. But I’m thinking about it now, and while Naru has mentioned that the planet has been through other Trials, and is clearly aware of it… Tarin hasn’t. Mari wasn’t aware, either, last time I asked. But Tarin’s a little more well informed, so perhaps—

“What you mean?” Tarin frowns at me. “Hestia only get one Trialgoer! You first Trialgoer!”

Nope. This is exactly what I think it is.

This planet’s been through this cycle three hundred and six times.

Tarin — and every other person in the loop, save for the Hestian Trialgoers — have lived through three hundred and six sets of loops, one for every Trialgoer that has ever been on this planet.

I should have made this connection before.

An cold anger burns in my chest. It’s not like it was ever really gone, but the flame is brighter than ever.

“Are you alright?” Ahkelios is the one to ask that question. It’s the first time he’s spoken in a while, and he looks at me like he’s nervous, or… or afraid.

I don’t want him to be scared of me.

I let a breath go. I can talk to him about this when I’ve calmed down a little.

“Let’s get to the Cities,” I say.

This doesn’t change my goals. But it does paint in stark colors exactly what has been done to this planet and its people. It tells me what the Integrators will do to the Earth if we pass their Trials… and honestly, I suspect now that their condition about destroying the Earth is a blatant lie. They want to use Earth the way they’re using Hestia.

Neither Tarin nor Ahkelios argue, perhaps sensing my mood. Firmament flows through me as I activate every speed-related skill I can that won’t instantly drain me, and we shoot off through the grass towards the Great Cities.

So much to do, so little time.

Ironic.