The entire world disappeared. He tried to call for Lilian, but he realized he could not even feel his mouth, let alone open it. In this absolute darkness, he was all alone. No sound, no touch, no smell. Not even hunger or thirst could reach him here. There was nothing around him. He could not tell for how long he remained in this lonesome prison. Perhaps this is what death would be like? An empty eternity, so that you could long for what you lost forevermore. It was wicked enough to be to the Maker's liking, Bastet scoffed. But he knew this wasn't death. The girl from his dream was suffering in this very hell, crying for what seemed to be forever. Bastet knew that he would have to come here if he was to have any chances of saving her; he just didn't think it would happen this soon. He did, however, have a plan.
There can be no differences in emptiness. It was merely a matter of time until you became just as hollow as the darkness surrounding you. There was no one who loved you, and no one for you to love; nothing to do, and nothing to live for. When you are stripped of everything that makes you who you are, what exactly is it that remains? To have someone suffer this torture for two centuries was the pinnacle of cruelty. And subjecting a child to such malice, despite her being so young she still hasn't even learned what sin is, was an act of great evil. Silverlight, the bane of evil, would surely not remain dormant in its presence. Bastet patiently awaited its response. He managed to stay calm, and that made him think that he truly has gone insane from the chaos baron's influence. Eventually, a small light flickered in the distance. The world was no longer empty. The silvery orb slowly approached closer, and under its light his body started regaining its form. Bastet stretched his legs, and reassured himself that everything was in its place.
Soon the orb started drifting away, and he had a feeling he must follow after it. He could not see where he was going, nor did he know what he was stepping on. It felt like he was walking on air, as there was no resistance against his feet. Where was the light taking him, and would he be able to find anyone else here? Just as he thought so, a voice cut through the silence – "Get up, filth! Who said you could rest?" – The voice was distorted, as if it had spent far too long echoing to be able to retain what it originally sounded like. Bastet heard the cracking of a whip, followed by a painful groan. The light got brighter, revealing two shadowy figures. He could not discern the emotions on their faces, as they were made out of a black mist, but one of them was on its knees and shivering, while the other one was towering over it. It seemed like they could not see him. The whip cracked again, and the man on the ground screamed. He hurried to pick up the chisel and hammer that he dropped. It looked like he was a slave.
-"The boulder needs to be cut by evening. There will be no rest!"
-"That's… impossible…" – He whimpered as he was struck again, and the shadows dissipated with the twirling of the black mist.
Who were these figures? They seemed more like a faded memory, rather than real people. He's gotten used to relying on Lilian, and he could really use her help right now. Judging by the size of that hammer and chisel, was the slave working in the quarries, cutting marble for all the statues that the artists were making? It didn't look like he would live for much longer. Why were they in such a hurry to be working him to death? Just as he thought so, the silvery light drifted onwards. He followed it for what felt like a long time. The orb stopped once it revealed an armored man sitting by a desk.
-"This city wasn't meant to be a fort!" - He raised his voice - "If the Hosal get any closer, Statia will fall! So, if your magic remains just a theory…" – The light got a bit brighter and revealed two stiff silhouettes that he was talking to.
-"It's not an issue of magic theory, it's about finding the ones who can use it. Their will has to be strong enough to defy the laws of the world! So work the slaves even harder. No food or water anymore, and see who survives a week from now. Then bring us those who wouldn't die just because they were supposed to. The Hosal will stand no chance..."– The shadows once again dissipated, and Silverlight gobbled them up, growing even brighter. What the hell was this? It was as if he was seeing the memories of the world, wounds carved from the actions of those who failed to do better. If magic was just a theory, was this from the time of its infancy? It sounded like they already realized that they needed those with a stronger life force to cast it. But did Ariadne's curse exist back then? If not, the slaves should have used the powers they obtained in order to rebel.
In response to his thought, more shadows rose from the ground. A man was kneeling, looking down as he addressed the crowned figure sitting on the throne – "My liege! The purple sun has shown its ire again! The Tamir river started flowing backwards and the fields in Rudina have been flooded! The refugees are requesting to stay here for the winter."
-"Peasants and beggars." – The king scoffed – "The city must not be dirtied with their kind, or it will never manage to ascend. Turn them away."
-"My liege, they refuse to leave. They have nowhere else to go. The orc horde that crossed over the veil is cutting off their way to Arcadia."
-"Put them in chains, then. I'm sure the mages will know what to do with them." – With those words they disappeared in smoke, and Silverlight's glow became even more powerful. The shadows showed him no rebellion, but the enslavement of even more people. Bastet has never thought highly of monarchs, and this only served to confirm his thoughts. Briskwood was lucky to have been out of their reach for so long.
It seemed like the light was moving to answer his questions. In that case… – "Show me the girl from my dream" – He demanded, but the light did not move. Perhaps he would have to rephrase – "Show me the purple sun." – The orb has gotten massive, and Bastet was finding it difficult to look directly at it without squinting. It swelled even further, becoming quite unstable. In the distance, he could see a massive man with long hair clasping his hands in front of what looked like an altar of some kind. The shadowy form was too vague to discern its exact shape, but it did not look like the altar of the Maker that Bastet knew.
-"I beg of you, hear my prayer. I cannot find her, but I have prepared everything... She will have no choice but to be here tomorrow. So please, Lord Veas... Encase her in stone, eternally and deathlessly, so that she may never stand in our way..." – With those words, the light expanded to envelop the entire world. Bastet heard the sound of something cracking, which only got louder and louder. A hole opened up in front of him, which then widened into a chasm through which he could see a world of color. He closed his eyes, and allowed it to swallow him up.
***
Bastet was on his knees with his hand clutched over his chest. His lungs really hurt. His vision was hazy and his breathing was ragged, but he could see broken pieces of stone scattered beneath him. Once he gathered enough strength to stand up, the thin layer of stone that remained on his back cracked and fell off as well. That prayer he heard in the shadow world explained his current predicament quite well. It looked like he had been turned to stone, but Silverlight broke him out of it.
Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he found himself in a big barrel-vaulted hall. There were statues lined up neatly as far as he could see. Since he was brought here after getting petrified, would it be too hasty to conclude that these statues also weren't chiseled, but people who met a similar fate as he did? Their poses indicated they were in motion at the moment they turned to stone, so it must have happened just as suddenly for everyone as it has for him. The woman on the right had a basket in her hand, and even some fruit in it, almost as if she was shopping when it happened. And it looked like she was wearing a tunic that wasn't too different from the clothes that he saw in his dream. But there were thousands of statues like this around, so where have all of these people come from? Suddenly, he realized the true meaning behind that prayer. They couldn't find the girl, so they didn't know who exactly to petrify. The citizens of Statia haven't been slaughtered like Lilian told him. They were here. They were all turned to stone. And to this day anyone who dared to step foot into the city was met with the same fate, which was what happened to Lilian and him.
But why were the settlers who lived here unharmed? They were walking in front of them, so why didn't they suffer any consequences? He looked around, and to his relief, he managed to find Lilian's statue. And just as he approached it...
-"Hey, you" – A soft voice interrupted his daze – "Are you here to… look at them too?" – Bastet turned around and saw two curious eyes staring at him. The small chubby man had a long beard, and the expression on his face was friendly. Bastet didn't recognize him; he wasn't one of the cripples he saw when he entered the city. He had all of his limbs intact; his underarms even looked bulky. – "You look like you were created to work in the quarry! But I suppose I shouldn't judge a book by its..." – The chubby man noticed the pieces of stone scattered on the ground where Bastet's statue had been standing. – "I… I know you! I put you there myself! Y-You are…"
There was no other choice. Bastet drew Silverlight, and charged at him.