All three of us make our way off the enormous horse of night and scramble down into the ravine surrounded by sand. We leave the Nightmare at the top of the gorge; no way the creature can get down and come back up without massive aid. The rough sandstone covered with sand and the occasional hard grey rock that more resembles a bone than a stone makes the trip down difficult, adding even further to the decision to leave the horse temporarily.
I cut or scrape my hands, knees, and arms several times hard enough to draw blood, and so does Earl. Luckily for Virgil, his outfit that blocks the sun from burning him with its harsh rays also protects him from the rough terrain. I feel bad for Earl as the only thing we can do to help him is bandage his cuts because I have the Bloody Palm to rapidly heal my injuries.
But he knew what he signed up for. A few minor scrapes are probably the least of what's coming to us before we return to Rustbank. This trip might seem to be proceeding well, but as my eyes glaze along the edge ravine, something feels itchy in the back of my mind.
Like something is wrong. Like someone is watching us.
I look around several times to see if I can find the presence peering down at us, but I cannot find it for the life of me. Eventually, I give up and just focus on the trip down into the sandstone ravine. Before I do, however, I do mention it to Virgil. He immediately begins to move slower and more carefully, looking around constantly.
As we move, I grow curious at how these ravines even exist, for piles of sand follow us as we make our way down. Wouldn't these things just get filled up with sand over time? Or am I missing something? I don't know, but I follow Virgil's lead as we approach the bottom where the overhangs are. Where the Mandaamin is likely to be.
Just before I touch the bottom, about ten or so feet from the ground, a piece of sandstone falls out from under my feet, and I have to quickly reach up for something to catch my fall. Luckily, I find a root sticking from the cracks in the stones, and I hold onto it as the rumble beneath me tumbles down into the ravine.
My heartbeat spikes at the event, and I look around only to see Virgil already being on the ground and looking up at me. Earl is above me, being more careful in his movement, only moving when he knows what will happen. That is probably how I should do it too. I've grown far too used to the Bloody Palm being able to heal me. My caution has been thrown to the wind if something isn't instant death or capable of just killing me through the healing of the artifact.
I do, however, search the edges of the sands above, where someone is most likely to be. I try to be ahead of my forgotten caution, yet no one is within my sight. At this point, I genuinely figure it is just my imagination. If someone wanted to attack us, the perfect time just passed.
Something I have to pay attention to, just like my lack of experience, but that one I'm trying to solve. After all, for a large portion of the way here, I spent time inquiring about Virgil and Wyatt and even peeking at my old notes that are slowly becoming obsolete on Ether, skills, and the world around us.
Virgil told me of many different monsters he's encountered in the Territories he's been to whenever I asked. The various reptiles of the Bonedunes, the vast birds of prey within Starkbluffs, the murderous beasts of Lostpoint, the poisonous snakes, frogs, and bugs of Sinscreak, the unknown and known that lurk within Lawless Lake, and even the wide variety of creatures that existed in Tornridge, my home Territory.
The man's been to eight different Territories, the other two being Blackreach and Gravecross, a magnitude of travel that blows my mind. I've always lived on the edge of Tornridge, only a few days from the Bonedunes, but traveling across an entire Territory is supposed to take at least a month. That is without the speed of a Sigiled, of course. Two or three months is the minimum for some deadlier ones, as one has to pass through the safe areas and already set-up towns.
While all our lands may be "owned" by humanity, that only means no other sentient creature lays claim to it. The beasts, reptiles, and all different sorts of wild monsters remain. The three original Territories are the only places where that's not the case. Blackreach, Gravecross, and Onyx Gate.
Blackreach and Gravecross were the second and third Territories to be claimed hundreds of years ago by man. And I learn from Virgil how the places are now just from idle chatter. Well, not utterly idle chatter. I wished to know the best place to go for us after the break. Where we'd be most safe. And because of the hours, I also ask for details about their histories. How else to spend the time other than learning more about the world? None of the choices of where to go seem compelling except for Blackreach or Gravecross, though.
Virgil nods as he speaks, telling me things I wish I knew.
"Blackreach used to belong to a powerful demon long ago, just like most other Territories, except for Lawless Lake, Green Hallows, and Starkbluffs. Those belonged to monsters, Nahullo, or some other race. But anyway, it was cleared out after a few dozen years of brutal war between humanity and the demon that lived there. It kept throwing monsters at us non-stop, but humans eventually adapted."
The man in front of me's head lifts an inch or two in pride as he touts the single most important invention in human history.
"We created the cannon, or more specifically, black powder. But the weapon of black powder helped us push back and eventually defeat the army. The whole place is named after the powder and the power that it granted. One knew they were safe if they were within reach of a black powder cannon. So, it was named Blackreach. And to this day, it has the most mortars, artillery, and other high-caliber weapons. Only the Bent Fortress can claim a higher number. If you want to set up a defensive position or build an army, Blackreach is the place to go. Only we'd have to skirt around the Estates that have their fingers deep into its affairs."
Virgil then shakes his head, twisting it as he moves on to the following Territory.
"Gravecross is named after the infamous family that I'm sure you've heard of by this point, Wyatt. It's said that is where the first of their lineage made his mark. How true that is, I don't know; history is always muddled by time. But it's probably true. Families often stay silent about their powerful gifts and keep them to themselves. Few are like the Graves."
He turns back to glance at me for some reason, a glint in his eye as he continues. I refuse to meet his gaze, unwanting him to figure anything out.
"Cursed by some unknown deity or maybe a genetic malfunction, all Graves have something inherently wrong about them. The Graves that earned humanity, Gravecross, was unable to sleep. Unable to ever feel the grace of slumber, the man was relentless, untiring, unshakable, like a steam engine. It's said that he fought for forty days and forty nights to claim the other side of the Laines River, which cuts Gravecross in half geographically. Wounded and nigh alone, the man held the bridge that was made. He held out for long enough for the Prime at the time to arrive and kill the demon that lived in the region. Unfortunately, it's said that he died after this. As far as I know, his name has been lost to time. Only that family would know. I've just seen him mentioned in history books as Sleepy. Ironic, huh?"
Laughing to himself, Virgil resumes the tale of the ancient Graves, my ancestor. I struggle not to squirm or reveal anything as the seconds tick by.
"So, the place ended up being named in his honor, and the Prime swore to train the man's daughter. The woman was incapable of hearing, feeling, or making any sound. She was said to become the Silent Death. That whole family is terrifying. If you ever meet one, I suggest you run. It's a good choice to go, however. It is one of the few places within the Territories that is mostly free of the hands of the Estates. Not entirely, but at least the majority of the land and Sigiled within are freemen unaligned with any Estate. The Cross' Claws, a trio of Forerunners, one of which with a Lumen, keep the peace in the Territory."
An inward and awkward laugh arrives as Virgil warns me about my own family, but I suppose he's right. It's probably best to run if I ever meet my father. Or if I somehow come across anyone else in my family. I also get the urge to tell Virgil my last name, but I keep it to myself. Johnny did say it's a thing best to keep to myself. To maintain as few as possible from knowing. Although he did use it as a distraction in combat, I find myself agreeing. That old bat, Darkstep, seemed to want my neck after learning my last name.
The stories of the two Territories are two things I've never heard before, but the last of the nine Territories that humanity owns is Onyx Gate. Our first. That one, I know the story of. It was in the Hunter Manuals. Propaganda, I guess. I discuss it with Virgil offhandedly, but the story in the Manuals seems to fit with his.
It's said that the First fought against thousands of enemies, from demons to Wendigos, monsters, and otherplanars. Non-stop did the first man to become an angel fight. For decades he warred, protecting the small population of men that lived alongside him. Only after he did the unthinkable and crossed that barrier into the Angelic Realm did he seek out a place for us to live.
He climbed endless mountains of cold, braved death-filled valleys of dangerous green, forced his way through miles of poisonous marsh, and crossed rivers of extreme speed and fury before he found a place he liked. A large area made of plains that had a unique type of stone. A dark, glassy kind of material that resembled the obsidian of a volcano.
The First named this material Onyx and set to create a city of the material. He spent years collecting the resource while fighting off endless enemies, eventually clearing the whole Territory of other sentient creatures. No demons. No otherplanars. No Pygmies. No Nahullo. No one but us. He named it Onyx Gate, meant to symbolize the beginning of our incredible journey west, for to the east was an endless ocean with only fog to be our guide.
However, his dream of the city of Onyx was never brought to fruition, for he died before it was completed. And the people who followed him never sought to finish his wish. So, now all that remains is a center made of this black stone with all the outer bits made of standard brick, mortar, and wood.
I knew I spent too much time learning about the Territories from Virgil and the Manuals, but I figure it will be important one day. Especially the knowledge about the creatures that live within. Well, at least the creatures that live within the Territories besides Blackreach, Gravecross, or Onyx Gate.
My focus returns from my long stint into my mind as I realize I've been running in the back of my mind for a while. After making my way down, I've been searching for a Mandaamin this whole time. At this moment, I notice another effect of Ironheart. I can have multiple streams of thought active at once. This might just be the most valuable part of the whole Struggler Sigil.
Devil knows I get distracted easily. Being able to get distracted but simultaneously staying focused is terrific. I test the application of the ability while I search for the maize-like plant in the shadowy crevices of the ravine.
I think about the best ways to go about my previous encounters with enemies, trying to optimize how they could have gone, given my new experience and knowledge of combat.
At the same time, I try this new thing out with my Ether. I try to create new skills by using my unique flavor of Ether. Something that only really comes out when you gain Steel Ether, but it's not impossible to do with just Braided Ether. I remember seeing Virgil do something similar when he was only a 3rd Sigil without access to Steel Ether.
I first try the effect with a skill I'm most familiar with. Adrenaline Surge. It's been starting to fall by the wayside because of Daydream and Strugglers Gasp. Both of the two skills from my Sigil easily outclass the general one. This makes sense because it's a basic skill, but it still hurts to see something I once relied on for almost everything fall behind.
So, I focus on flowing the Ether of Adrenaline Surge, my oldest skill besides Chain Eyes, and I attempt to braid the Ether within so tightly so that I give it presence. My presence, the feel of my Sigil, the flavor of my Ether.
As I do so, I notice that I'm still moving and searching for the Mandaamin in the back of my mind, the parallel streams of thoughts working great. But my attention is mainly focused on the creation of a new skill. One that is truly mine.
Flows of dense braided Ether go about my whole body in a peaceful rhythm for several minutes as I try to force the creation of a new skill. The Ether that I use that is tightly braided seems to have some small component of my Sigil, a feeling of tightness is the only way to describe it, but it doesn't seem to be enough. That affecting my whole body with the Braided Ether I possess is impossible.
So, I take it down one step. I know another skill. One that I've already upgraded to a full-body application, but I keep it toned down instead. Sneak. I send the tense Braided Ether of mine down into my feet, swirling it back and forth like a cloud.
I do this for several more minutes as I move, twisting the Ether as tightly as I can, and just as I am about to think that this, too, is a failure, something unexpected happens.
My braids of thick Ether begin to wrap, twist, and link with each other, creating a sizeable chainlink mesh within my feet. As this happens, I see multi-colored but hazy boots covered in pitch-black chains appear over my current boots.
Exhilaration at creating a new skill burns through me as wonder and curiosity explode alongside it. I immediately reach down to see if the boots are tangible, and they are, my hands stopping at the chain links that drip from the shoes and end in spikes. They feel cloudy and unnatural, though.
Another thing that I notice is that my entire being is focused on these boots the second they appear, and every step I take has the sound of the clinking chains bringing it even further to focus like an hour bell that bursts its way into your mind. It's almost like this does the opposite of Sneak, attracting danger as opposed to hiding from it.
The last aspect of the boots I catch is that every step seems to leave me slightly rooted to the ground, my feet becoming far more stable, almost unshakable in the sand with this new skill. The possibilities of the skill swarm my mind, and my excitement builds even further.
An idea pops up that I just have to test, but before I do, so I get a splitting headache. One that seeks to split me in three. At first, confusion streams through me as I consider what's happening. The pain can't be from overusing Ether; I've barely used any today. It's only been a few minutes of Stealth and Adrenaline Surge, not enough to build up very much saturation at my Sigil's height.
So what is it? While I think the pain only grows, bringing me to the ground. I strain against the side of the sandstone with my hand against my head as an idea sparks amidst the psychic strain.
Ironheart's parallel thoughts.
Once that reasoning comes, I slow down all my thoughts, attention, and perspective until it's just one. The single idea of me staring at sandstone. Only after a few seconds of this does the burning pain in my mind lessen. I can physically feel an overheated brain that is beginning to cool down. This is the first time I've ever noticed that Ironheart has a limit besides the number of things I can focus on.
Maybe it was just a time limit. That my focus can only be so strong for so long. It has been over an hour since I began using these parallel thoughts purposefully. For now, I need to be careful, rationing how often I use it so it doesn't overheat my brain.
With the pain gone and a new idea of how my latest Sigil works, I walk forward up to the sandstone wall and tentatively plant a foot against it. The chains at the bottom of the boot eat into the sandstone and secure my foothold. Then, I quickly place my other foot higher up than the first so I don't fall.
And after a short moment of weightlessness, I laugh with glee as I land sideways from the wall, suspended only by my feet that are stuck to the wall with the boots I've made by the pitch-black chains from them. I instantly name them Chainlink Boots. A dull but fitting name. Climbing Boots is a possibility, but the attraction I feel when looking at them makes me steer away.
I suspect that climbing is not all that these things can do. The possibilities aren't endless, but they are indeed numerous. I then spend the next hour or so using the wall to search for the Mandaamin. It is bizarre to walk sideways, the motion slowly making me feel nauseous, so I have to get down from the sandstone here or there.
But over time, I grow used to the feeling. I figure it's best to get comfortable with all the aspects of what I can do with my Ether. Never know when I need to do this exact thing to save my life. When a break to reduce my nausea isn't possible.
So, I continue to search and look for this needed plant. The plant that will be able to help Heath save Primrose. The vantage from the side of the sandstone wall helps me see so much more and allows me to reach many more crevices than I would be able to without the skill.
And after a few hours of searching, I find one. Hidden within a deep crevice that I have to shimmy into. It reminds me of a small alcove, one the size of a study within a house, no more than a small room. Moonlight streams in from a hole in the ceiling, giving the area large amounts of shadow while still full of visibility. In the middle of the sandstone-covered room lies a Mandaamin.
A corn-like stalk of a plant that hangs within the shadow and roots that stream all over the sand to soak up whatever little nutrients are here. With happiness, I cut out the core of the plant as directed by Heath. The core looks identical to a cob of corn except for the lack of kernels and the deep green coloring.
As I cut out the core, however, a voice comes from above. One that is distorted and shifting as the words touch me.
"I see you got shiny new boots, huh, Roach?"