As Luke stepped into the tent, a wave of unease washed over him. His mind lingered on the odd slip from earlier—the strange statement about the Abyssal Theatre's design. How had he known such a thing? He had no knowledge of it, yet it had spilled from his mouth as truth. What's happening to me? The thought gnawed at him, but before he could dwell on it further, a cacophony of voices broke his concentration.
The tent's interior was a whirlwind of sound and movement. Circles of abnormals gathered around storytellers, their shapes and sizes as varied as the materials they were made of—gemstones, moss, flesh, and more. The storytellers stood at the center of these clusters, their voices weaving tales that commanded rapt attention. Limited seating was reserved for the more experienced and credible tellers, while the rest sprawled on the ground, leaning in to catch every word. The air buzzed with life and lore, thick with the scent of burning incense.
As the children dragged Luke toward a smaller, secluded room, the crowd pressed in, peppering him with questions.
"Is it true that Aldric sent you?"
"Why were you chosen to come here?"
"Are you the blond human who fought the Hand of Fate in Sylvera?"
The last question caught Luke off guard, and he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. I guess news travels fast, even in the labyrinth.
The questioning continued unabated as he was ushered into the room. Above the door hung a crude sign that read, "The Eternal Oracle," the letters slanted and uneven, as if written by children.
The room itself was dimly lit, cozy but otherworldly. A glowing crystal ball sat atop a wooden table surrounded by soft, worn cushions. Candles flickered, their flames casting long shadows across the walls. A faint aroma of herbs lingered, calming yet mystifying. Behind the table sat an abnormal.
She was hunched, leaning on a wooden staff with a trident-shaped head, the center prong conspicuously missing. A tattered black robe cloaked her body, hiding all but the mask that concealed her face. Its design was strange—a blend of toad and crocodile, carved from stone, with hollowed eye sockets that seemed to pierce through the room. Her very presence exuded an air of ancient wisdom, one that made Luke feel as though he stood before a being older and far more powerful than even Aldric.
"Quiet down!" her voice commanded, sharp and resonant. "All you adults, leave! These stories are for the next generation!"
The abnormals groaned but obeyed, shuffling out of the room. Luke turned to follow them, grateful for the reprieve from their questions, but her voice halted him mid-step.
"Not you, Blondie!" she barked. "You're practically a child in this realm!"
Startled, Luke reversed his steps and made his way back toward the table. He lowered himself onto a cushion, the abnormal children clustering around him, their tiny, clawed hands clinging to his shirt and arms.
The Oracle began to prepare. She lit more candles, releasing a swirl of smoke that danced in the dim light. Then, she brought out a stack of drawings—childlike scrawls, yet each one seemed to tell its own tale. The quality of the paper varied wildly, some pieces worn and ancient, others new and vibrant.
"Listen closely," she began, her voice taking on a rhythmic cadence. She recounted a story older than the world itself.
"In the beginning, there was nothing. Then, from the void, abnormals emerged. When the first of them gained intelligence, the Abnormal Relic of Weirdness was forged, and with it, reality itself. Aethereon was born from its power. As abnormals adapted to their surroundings, new races came into being, each unique, each tied to the fabric of this realm. With every new intelligent race, a relic was created, binding them to the world."
Her voice grew heavier, her tone laden with sorrow.
"But with creation came conflict. The Relic War tore Aethereon apart, as the ten races fought to possess each other's relics. In the end, humans triumphed, claiming all ten relics for themselves. They used their power to create a new realm, abandoning Aethereon. That is where the story ends."
As her words faded, the room fell silent. The children stared at her in awe, their young minds grappling with the magnitude of the tale.
"Alright, little ones," she said, her voice softer now. "Leave the human with me. I'll see you again another time."
"Awwww," the children groaned in unison, reluctant to leave but obedient nonetheless. They bid Luke goodbye and scampered out of the room.
Luke shifted uncomfortably as the door closed. "So, what is it that you need from me, Miss… Eternal Oracle?"
She let out a raspy chuckle, the sound like a reptilian croak. "Call me Clara," she said.
Luke blinked in surprise. "But that's a—"
"Human name?" she interrupted, amused. "Indeed, they named it after me."
Her laughter subsided, and her tone grew thoughtful. "Humans have drawn much inspiration from Aethereon. After all, it was their original home."
Luke frowned, his mind racing. "But that doesn't make sense. If Aethereon was their original realm, and they left just ten years ago, how have humans existed in my realm for thousands of years?"
"All questions lead to answers, Luke," she said cryptically. "You simply need to seek more knowledge."
Her words sent a chill down his spine. "You… know my name?"
"Kuro screamed it, did he not?" she replied with a shrug. "I worry for that boy. He carries so much on his shoulders. Especially after Kael was killed."
Kael's name struck Luke like a hammer. Kael. The statue. The respect. He leaned forward. "Who was Kael?"
Clara sighed deeply, her mask tilting downward. "He was my student, along with Aldric."
Luke's eyes widened. "Aldric was your student?!"
Her masked face turned toward him, and though he couldn't see her eyes, he felt the weight of her gaze. "Sorry…" he mumbled, lowering his head.
"They were brothers in arms," she continued. "Aldric, ever the carefree drunkard, always placing fun before duty. And Kael… Kael was hope incarnate. He fought for peace, not just for abnormals, but for everyone. During the Relic War, he became our leader."
Luke's voice was low, almost inaudible. "And humans killed him?"
"Yes," Clara said softly, "but he also destroyed himself, in a way."
Before Luke could ask what she meant, Clara removed the mask's eye covers. Her pure white eyes bore into him.
"Don't pursue revenge against Solen," she said, her tone firm. "I know of your parents' fate, but vengeance will only bring you pain."
Luke shot to his feet, his voice shaking with anger. "HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?!"
Her voice was calm but unyielding. "My essence allows me to see the future."
A grin twisted across Luke's face. "Then tell me how to get my revenge."
She replaced the eye covers, her voice now laced with weariness. "Did you not hear me, boy? Revenge will destroy you. The future is a fragile thing—sharing it can lead you astray, either into complacency or despair."
Luke clenched his fists, the weight of her words sinking in. She stepped closer, her tone shifting to something almost maternal.
"The world is changing," Clara said, her voice carrying a somber weight. "When you see Aldric again, give him this message from me." She paused, rubbing her temple as though massaging a distant memory. "He's probably causing sweet Sylveria a world of trouble right now."
She stepped closer to Luke, her presence looming in the dim candlelight. "Tell him this: 'Fate demands your presence; you cannot decline.'" Her tone sharpened, and she gestured pointedly at him. "And you, Luke, remember my words carefully: 'Your hubris will be your undoing.'"
Luke hesitated, his resolve wavering. "I'm sorry, Clara, but this is what I've waited ten years to do. This is my call, and I must answer it."
He turned and left the room without another word.
Clara watched him go, her shoulders heavy with the weight of foreseen tragedy. She returned to her table and sighed. "Perhaps Aldric was right to call you a fool."