* Made in Abyss – Remembering Home
* Made in Abyss – In the Blind
Chapter CXIV: Lines Across Time
* Made in Abyss – Remembering Home
In the middle of the Tower, the kingdom of eons laid quiet.
Its Lord and only inhabitant stood at the edge of the last piece of land it possessed: a rock stuck in the middle of the air, floating inert above nothingness. Joktan had barely moved at all since the Masters and Servants had set out for their respective battlefields. There was nothing for him to do, no matter that requiered his attention and not a single soul in this realm, aside from himself.
No desire and no necessity.
As such, all he did was wait and stare – stare at the lightless abyss where one would find the bottom of the Tower; or look upon the blanket of dark clouds that choked the sky like a heavy clog of tar. The fake sun that had once shined upon his empty domain had been chased away; the azure blue shroud washing down the walls had faded into ash grey. As such, all that was left of the peaceful delusion he had created was the rock he stood upon.
A sad throne, but a perfect seat to witness these darkness before they swallowed the world.
That was what his role had been reduced to.
He had survived for so many moons only to be the witness of catastrophe.
If asked how he felt about it, the scenery surrounding him would suffice as an answer. Peering down at the void, his figure was as imposing and as lifeless as a marble statue. His mouth was shut tight; there were no words that could move an abyss without ears. He wasn't even sure whether he was breathing or if his lungs too had turned to stone. In the end, the only motion that graced his figure was that of his neck, lifting his face up towards the peak of Migdal Bavel.
The Tower of Ascension no longer led to Heaven, nor to the stars, nor anywhere really.
Now it was a stairway to a broken ideal.
Despite accepting his role as a Lord of Babel, he wasn't seeking solace in the Tower's words. It was better this way. At least he remained blind to the battles raging on and deaf to cries of those who would sign them with their blood. Of the outside world he could see nothing either. That was all he could ask for.
...
"...Why... ...have I let them go?"
When at last sound came out of his mouth, it was a whisper that could have been mistaken for the voice of the wind; if there had been wind in this stagnant world. The question that swung open the doors of silence was one that puzzled him to no end. The inky sky and these pitch-black depths were helpless to clue him.
Why, of all he could have done, had he allowed the Masters and Servants to leave?
He had resolved to stand with Migdal Bavel. He had mustered what little conviction his old soul was still capable of, and he had faced them. So why had his blade not struck true?
Instead, he had opened one path to the Heart of Babel and one path to his wrathful brother.
In doing so, he had made himself traitor twice over.. Yet he hadn't lost his status nor the love of the Tower: because in truth, he believed that he had sent them all to their deaths. Though great was their effort, they would hit a wall and realize they couldn't make it through. Joktan had wanted to preserve them from such an end, by keeping them here where they wouldn't fight.
Yet he hadn't done so... why?
By sending them away, he had neither kept his vow nor protected them.
'Trusting a man who cannot attune his actions with his words goes against wisdom.'
That was true. He had long since passed the point where he could understand what he thought and what he did. Then, was he now doing a better job of accomodating those two things? Now, when he was nothing more than a still figure in a world fraying at the edges, were the confines of his souls better reflected?
He should have returned to ashes a long time ago.
He couldn't even regret how he had used that time, only the fact that he had lived through it at all. If he hadn't been so stubborn, he could have spared himself a pointless journey. What would happen to him afterwards, he couldn't fathom. But surely, he could finally be granted an end in some form or shape.
And so, that was how he had chosen to spend his final moments – watching dully while trying to remember the faces of those he had known, those he had cherished, and those he had failed.
...
...
...
...
...
"Do you love looking at nothing so much that you fell in love with the void?"
Then, uninvited words came to disturb this semblance of peace.
When exactly, he didn't know, but Joktan was no longer the sole existence in this empty canvas.
It struck him with stupor: a voice that sounded so alien, yet so familiar. When he turned around to see who the unannounced guest was, he had to stop for the second time. Over there, on the other side of this lonely islet, a man made of unrefined chunks of rock was staring at him with his one half-eroded eye.
It was a strange and baffling thing to look at.
But while that shell was perplexing and foreign, the soul that dwelled inside was unchanged. Joktan's scrutinizing gaze slowly adjusted until he saw past the subterranean figure. When at last he had unveiled the identity of that stranger, his mouth fell open without a sound coming out.
On his end, the earthen man only looked back at him, and Joktan's heart felt like it was sinking deeper. What should have been a sinister appearance instead veered on the deplorable: that makeshift body was deeply charred and marked by many cleft. Even the unique eye carved into his face seemed flat and empty. Such a state, one could only describe it as lamentable.
And yet, despite presenting such a sorry sight, he was surely smiling.
Yes, that was what this man would do.
"...Phenech?"
For the first time in five thousand years, that name crossed Joktan's lips. It felt strange to pronounce it, especially when attributing it to a scorched pile of rubbles. But there was no doubt; the man who stood before him was one who had once shared his dream and his duty.
"It's been a while, Jok." The earthen man tilted his head slightly. "Did I surprise you?"
"It is truly you, my friend?" Tears we starting to well up in the vampire's eyes. "So you were here too..."
"I was always here. I have been waiting." Phenech stepped forward and approached with an uncertain gait, as though he were about to take a leap of faith. Then, he extended his hands. "You're really Joktan... aren't you?"
The vampire didn't react at all when his friend reached for his face. He accepted the cold touch of these lifeless hands, letting them feel their way around. Eventually, Phenech froze. His arms fell to his side.
"It's you..." He muttered. "You haven't changed at all."
Joktan wasn't sure what to answer, especially since he couldn't say the same about him. But Phenech was not waiting for an answer – while his friend dithered, he jumped at him and wrapped his stony arms around him. More so than a hug, he was clinging to him and squeezing with all his strength. Joktan was reduced to a stunned silence, but after a moment he returned the embrace. That too was something he hadn't done since time immemorial.
"...Heheheheh..." Eventually, Phenech laughed while giving him taps on the back. "Hahah, it is you! You're still taller than me – but you're slouching a lot! Are you eating well? Are you eating at all? Do you remember me? Do you remember how I used to sound and look? Do you still know who I was...?"
"I... think I do..." His friend's onslaught of questions was overwhelming. But despite his awkwardness, Joktan somehow managed to smile faintly. "Of course I remember. How have I ever forgotten...? No matter your guise, you are my friend and my brother."
"Heheheh! A guise, he says! I have nothing to disguise, in truth. This is the prettiest costume I have right now, so I hope it's not too tacky for our reunion!" The dust king undid his hug and took a good look at Joktan. "But man, you've become super pale! You look like an old raggedy teddy, hah! A teddy that's too big for one child, so that's at least five children who played with you and then threw you out!"
"Hm? Phenech, the way you speak is quite strange." Joktan raised an eyebrow.
"You don't say!" He took one step away from the vampire, only to start twirling around whimsically. Frankly, it was hard to tell whether this was dance of joy or if Phenech was just making fun of him. "I speak strangely because I'm weird! I bet that's not how you remember me at all, heh! Well, that's normal. I've changed. That's what tends to happen to people, isn't it?"
"..."
"Earlier, I said you haven't changed at all, but that's not true. You're also different." Just as suddenly, he stopped whirling and slowly turned to his old friend. "Even if your face hasn't aged a day, the rest of you isn't quite the same. You look tired, Jok."
Joktan looked down at his hand.
On the metallic surface of his gauntlet, he could see his own reflection; but it was distorted. Even so he remembered it quite well, it was the one part of himself he had been able to keep for all these centuries. But he understood what Phenech meant: when thinking about who he was, how could he ignore the years that separated them from the past they had shared?
Phenech had to be thinking the same as well – the way they stared at each other was like a long sigh.
"Five thousand years, huh? It's a cruel thing." The dust king shrugged and shook his head. "Not only was it unbearable but it's also ruining the mood! Ah, but it's really weird for me you know? I spent all this time at the bottom of my abode, like a heap of gold forever stashed away! And as a result, the days where I was called Phenech feel so distant yet so fresh... the day when our Tower was punished by Heaven, that's the last memory I have from my life as a human."
"The day where everything came to an end." Joktan whispered listlessly. "Come to think of it, you and I have not met at all after that disaster."
"Can't really be helped. It was already too late by then." Briskly, Phenech walked up to the edge where the vampire stood. Then, they looked down together at the void, where his domain was. "I've got that image stuck in my mind: the bliding light that struck, and the red flames that devoured the head of our precious work. When it happened, I was seized up by panic and I rushed to Migdal Bavel. Hah, what a moron! As if I could have salvaged anything... In the end, all I got was to be crushed under the rubbles, and that was the end for me."
"And when the feet of the Tower sunk into the earth, it became your tomb. So that is the fate that befell you. To think I was ignorant of it for so long..." The storm king closed his eyes. He returned to the past, to the sounds and images of that day. "When our dream was undone, I was cursed to become a predator for Man, a monster who may only thrive under the veil of night. I ran away. Without trying to face you or Nimrod, I exiled myself and I never traced my steps back."
"So you spent all of these millenia out there? Meh, talk about a difference in treatment! Although, it doesn't look like things were easy for you either." A gravel hand tapped Joktan's shoulder lightly. "Honestly, I was planning to be angry at you. I thought as soon as I'd see your face, I'd blow up and spit five thousand years' worth of spite at you. So much for that!"
"Not even you were spared from an eternity of torment, then." Joktan opened his eyes and cast a wistful gaze on his poor friend's shell. "Would that I had been there to withstand it alongside you."
"That's what I'd hoped... nay, what I prayed for. But that's not what happened." Phenech's hand made a grating noise on the golden armour. "...I waited, you know. I waited, and waited, and waited. Until I knew I would never be found. Go figure what would have happened, if you or someone else had shown up. But I was ready to accept anything. Anything that wasn't this silence. Even if it meant talking with people who don't exist."
"..."
"But it's too late now, hahah! We can't really take back any of that." With a wave of his arm, he turned away from the precipice. "A part of me also wanted to keep guarding Migdal Bavel. I believed that this wouldn't be the end, that you and Nim would one day return to finish what we had started. I guess I wasn't wrong about that, after all."
"Of us three, you loved this Tower the most dearly. When we joined hands to build Babel, you used to find yourself wanting. But we all knew that your hope exceeded even ours. I can only imagine how faithfully you protected it."
". . . . . . . . .Bah, you're overselling me. In the end, I'm just the loser who lost his life and refused to vanish for good." Though he said that, Phenech's eye wandered longingly over the cloudy sky. "And that's what leads us to today. See, my life was such a bore that I've already ran out of things to say! Unless you wanna be introduced to all the made-up people I met inside my old dusty halls!"
"With your liveliness, I am sure I wouldn't need to ask."
"But it's boring, incredibly so! I've had five thousand years with myself already, I never wanna meet me ever again. And it's not like I'd actually remember my delusions." He shrugged. "What about you? You look as faded as me, wouldn't believe I have the main architect of Migdal Bavel in front of me. And yet you've found your way, at long last. What brought you back here? Is it because you remembered? Or is it because you wanted to remember?"
"...If only there had been such meaning to it. I forgot how to live, and on the same occasion I lost sight of what it means to lead one's own life. I have returned to the land I abandoned and yet... it looks nothing like the home I pledged myself unto. An oblivious fool would have more purpose."
"So you're just lounging around 'cause you happened to find yourself here, eh? Sounds about right." Phenech crossed his arms and nodded. "The Joktan before me doesn't look like he has anything driving him, let alone the ambition to bring our Tower back into the world. So I take it Nim's the one who managed to do that. Seeing you like this though, it doesn't look like a happy event."
"..."
"Well, since we're here like that, how about you bring me up to date? I've just found my way out of my tomb, I think I've missed a thing or two!"
Considering the link they had with Migdal Bavel, Phenech should be able to inform himself without anyone's help. If he hadn't, then it meant he wanted to hear it from Joktan's mouth. Thus, the latter obliged his friend despite his lack of enthusiasm: he recounted how the current Tower of Babel had been brought into existence; how the Sixth Holy Grail War had lined up the conditions for it; how he had met Ivan Pedilefey who had put everything into motion.
He talked about their shared friend, of when he had been called the Lancer of White, how it had all come apart no sooner than this morning... and his last encounter with Nimrod. His hatred, his vengeance and how they had shaped their Tower into a tree of calamity.
And finally, he mentioned those who stood in opposition to that fate. The humans and Heroic Spirits who challenged Migdal Bavel, those Joktan had failed to stop. When he reached the subject of those who had gone down to find the Heart, Phenech nodded vigorously and chuckled to himself; yet, Joktan had the impression he was making a grave face.
All in all, it was a pretty short summary of what had happened. Or maybe it wasn't. He could hardly tell how much time had passed. Not that it mattered.
When his explanation was done and over, Phenech remained silent. He appeared to be thinking, but perhaps he was merely taking in all which he had just learned. Or was he vainly searching for a semblance of hope? Joktan thought they must have had the same feeling in their hearts, as both their faces turned heavensward.
"So that's how it is." The dust king finally said. "I see, I see. How stupid."
"Stupid?"
"After all this time, us three are together again. But against all reason and good taste, this is the stage for our reunion. How stupid."
"...Aye. This day does not call for the celebration we were yearning."
"Oh well." Phenech suddenly threw his arms up and let them fall back limply. "That's just how it is. So, what do you want to do?"
"...? What gives?"
"Isn't it obvious? This whole situation is a farce but the fact remains that we are here. We've all persisted in one form or another; we truly exist in this time and place. So far everything has been out of our hands, I will give you that. Still, this is our Tower – our story. If we wish to, we can play a part in its final chapter. So I ask you: what do you want to do, Joktan?"
"..."
What he desired.
Beyond the feasable and the reasonable, what sort of outcome was his heart pointing at? If he could do whatever he wished for...
...
It should be an easy answer to reach.
And yet, nothing came to him.
No matter if he looked to the sky or the earth, to his friend or to his own reflection, he couldn't find a wish to put into words. And so, after deliberating with himself, all he could give Phenech was a sorry expression.
"Nothing? Not even a little childhood dream?" The dust king chuckled. "You're not so empty that you can't yearn for anything. But there's too much conflict inside you."
"...I cannot imagine an ideal that would satisfy every doubt lodged in my mind. They clash too much again each others." Joktan clenched his fist. "To strive for such an unrealistic outcome..."
"That's what we're known for!" Phenech's head made a full spin. "You don't need to grind your brain into paste. If there's nothing, that's fine too. Whatever, let's forget about all of this! Let's have a picnic or something!"
"Are you not the one who brought up the question?" The vampire couldn't keep up with his friend's volatility. "So you will do nothing as well?"
"Bah, you know how Nim is! Once he's got something stuck in his head, he will go for it." Phenech looked around for a seat. For lack of success, he gave up and sat cross-legged on the grass. "And then you would be the one telling him there's a better way, and neither of you would step down. Then I would chime in to make the balance tip in someone's favour. That's how it always played out, right?"
"...You exaggerate."
"Am I?"
"Assuredly." Joktan huffed. "But... even though we had our quarrels, our feet were still walking along the same path."
"And they still are! How else do you explain we're able to have a conversation?" An arm of chalk and granite waved toward the grim scenery offered to them. "I called it stupid, but there's also something humorous in all of this. You, me and Nimrod – we're just three lines lost across time, split up and diverging for eons. But we've converged again on this exact point: on the Migdal Bavel we left unfinished. So you see, it seems our paths are still the same after all, heheheheh!"
"..."
One had wandered the land, with no rest for his soul and no place to call home.
One had been locked away in a deep, cold prison of earth and silence.
One had rejected the respite of death, cradled by naught but laments of regret and hatred.
Each of them had suffered a different fate, each to their own eternity. But they had carried the same legacy, through the fog of ages and a shifting world where little remained of them. The Tower of Babel no longer rose from the plain of Shinar; even on the Other Side where humans dwelled not, all that was left was a broken monument. Yet still they had carried that burden and found each others again, in the land where it had all started and ended.
A final destination... but an empty one.
Weighing their misery against their rewards, it seemed their pain was worth very little. What then was the meaning of finding themselves here? To take their revenge? Even though the idea was a frightful one to Joktan, it wasn't one he could deny entirely. When all was said and done, perhaps Nimrod was the one who had changed the least among them. He was the single one with a purpose, the only Lord of Babel who had never forgotten what they had created and what they had lost.
And so, it appeared he was the most deserving of choosing their future.
Phenech must have had a hunch as to what was going through his friend's mind, for he sighed.
"Now, now, don't be sad. You've certainly had more than your share of sorrow already, so how about we make this a joyous occasion?" He tapped the ground next to himself. "After all it's been some times since we've seen each other, and I won't let the end of the world take that from me! So, to hell with what's happening, let's hang out."
"I... am not quite sure how to do that." Joktan admitted his trouble. "I have not enjoyed an old friend's company in millenia."
"I'm in the same boat actually. I've had even less of a social life than you, and that's saying something!" The earthen man scratched his chin; although it looked more like a baked brick. "Let's see, what do people usually do when they haven't met in a while? Hm? Hmmmm. I guess they talk about the good ol' days. So lets reminisce a bit!"
"You may say that, but..."
"Come on, surely you at least remember what it was like! You're going to make our brothers and sisters cry. And what would your wife say?"
"You can be cruel, do you realize that?" Joktan's expression dimmed further, if that was possible. "I remember our land where both humans and beasts lived. The sprawling City that filled our Tower with life. I remember... but through a broken lens."
What did it mean to remember, after five thousand years?
The most precious memories of his life were from his days as a human, but could he really ignore the abyss of time that stretched between him and them?
Of his life in darkness, he had retained suffering and questioning.
It shouldn't come as a surprise then, that most of his memories of Babel were about the harshest days and his greatest doubts.
"I remember an ideal we once shared, all three of us. But how much remains of Joktan, in the end?" His voice choked in his throat. A spark of frustration lit up his eyes, as he cast a desperate glare to their grey surroundings. "My brother, can you not see how my heart has shaped this world?! The past in my eyes is a husk, for I too am a husk of what once was..."
"Well of course, if you stay in such a gloomy place you're gonna be broody." Phenech took a quick glance around and jumped to his feet. "If that's how you feel, then for starters we're gonna give this kingdom a new look! How about that?"
"A new...?"
"Or an old look – we're here to reminisce after all! Since the current Migdal Bavel leaves a lot to be desired, let's recreate it as it once was. We'll make a Tower and a City that'll have Nim blush in embarassment!"
"I might not be up to the task..."
"Of course you are; who would be more able than you?" Phenech approached and he reached out his hand, his open palm turned towards the heavens. "It was your home."
* Made in Abyss – In the Blind
The storm king looked at it with uncertitude.
Slowly however, a strange feeling drew him in and he gave in to the invitation.
Raising his arm in turn, he held his palm above that of Phenech, at the exception that his was turned towards the earth. With this position, it looked like they were holding and protecting something precious.
What was there, sitting between their hands as though in the centre of the world?
That was left to be decided.
From here on out, anything could be born.
They would steer it to the rightful destination, but as the latter was quite far away they had to find how to get there.
Thus, the first shape it took was that of a circle: it could be seen as many things, from a coin to a shield, the humble beginnings of a fortification, or a wheel. But that simple shape was like a crack in reality, a hole from which a strange glow escaped. It shone an ardent colour on their faces, like the last hue of the sun before it went below the horizon. It didn't settle for it though, its shade became lighter and darker at the same time, casting day and night into Joktan's lifeless kingdom.
The wheel was spinning.
Soon the entire world revolved around it.
The clouds drifted into a vortex, strong gusts of wind coiled and unfurled around them, singing a song of storm. But what followed was not an unleashing of violence. Quite the opposite: the more the edges of this realm blurred and spiraled, the more calm reigned at the centre. The wheel of light gained in width and became a sphere, as incandescant as a small sun. That was not quite the objective they were aiming for however; they had to go further.
The sphere became wobbly and almost tangible. The solar disk was lost, forsaking its shape to change and grow. After some indecision and trying out a few new forms, it eventually stretched and gained a slender outline. With miniature arms and legs, a child was now sitting on Phenech's hand. Its head was concealed by the bud sprouting from it, as though waiting to bloom into a magnificent mask. From its hair and its arms, vines were hanging and wove themselves into a cloak. Yet still, that was indubitably the form of a youth eyeing the two massive figures around it with awe.
Then, the child of light stood up and extended its hands, standing on its toes to touch Joktan's hand.
When at last it bridged the distance between the Earth and Sky, the child laughed. The world around the two Lords of Babel came to a lull, before being sucked into the infant's silhouette and absorbed. Once everything was gone, all that remained was a solitary figure, clear cut on a backdrop of darkness. Seeing that it was and knowing what was expected of it, the child spread its arms out – the bud gently swelled and unfolded.
.
The light expanded and the world took on new colours.
.
Joktan looked and saw a stupefyingly vast room surrounded on all sides by pillars and windows. From the ceiling a stairway spiral down and disappeared into the floor below. Assortments of tools were laying on the ground, neatly arranged and maintained. Upon witnessing this spectacle, the feeling in his chest revealed its name: the storm king was overwhelmed by nostalgia. He and Phenech were standing in one of the Tower's many floors, in the days when it had been proudly rising from the land of Shinar.
"See, it wasn't that hard." Phenech retrieved his hand and turned around to behold the result. "It's so ressembling, I'd think I've gone mad a second time and woken up five millenia ago!"
"The sanctuary where our dream took shape..." Joktan also let his gaze stray tenderly.
"You spent your whole days and more here, no one could possibly remember it better than you! Whenever you'd actually set foot outside, I had to wonder if you had died and this was your ghost searching for help! Heh, I guess you were my inspiration, heheh!"
"Demise would have been no reason for me to neglect my duties."
"I guess that's why you never died. Nothing short of eternal life could stop our indomitable Jok!" Phenech stepped closer to one of the windows: large openings as wide as a gate, with nothing to truly prevent people from falling over. "And if we look over here, we'll find..."
Joktan took place beside him and watched the world below. In accordance with his memories, from this high up one could see the plain in its entirety. Even the mountains that surrounded the latter were shorter and showed all their splendors to those who had conquered these heights. More importantly though, at the foot of Migdal Bavel, life was bustling through the City.
He and Phenech were so far up that humans on the ground would be smaller than even ants, and so all they could behold was the City's breadth and its... 'magnificence'.
"...A much shoddier work." Joktan's brows furrowed.
There was more than the altitude to blame for the lack of detail. The longer he looked, the more obvious it was that the City beneath them was a shallow picture. A quick glance wouldn't reveal a difference, but it was hard to ignore the half-faded picture spread before them. In answer to his dissatisfaction, Phenech tapped his back some more and pulled him away from the window.
"It's not like you to judge something so quickly and ruminate over it." He gestured the vampire to come along. "I will show you how it really is."
The two of them stepped into the stairway that acted as a spine for Migdal Bavel. An endless row of steps presented itself to them, which they leisurely climbed down. In their descent, they came across many floors similar to the one they had left behind. Nothing truly distinguished them from each others; the many hands that would be working at this time of the day were absent. It was only an old, weary vampire and his friend stitched together with pebbles, traversing this museum of their past.
And all the while, Phenech let his mouth run free.
"Tell me, surely you remember some of the people who lived here. All of Humanity was gathered in a single metropolis, so we weren't lacking in unique individuals!"
"I can certainly believe you..."
"What about, say, Mardek – that old man who owned a lot of sheep and donated wool to the weavers? He was grumpy because there were so many shepherds and cattle owners in Babel, his own herd didn't stand out! So he figured he'd breed them until he could get all sorts of unusual colours from them. He seriously tried to get golden sheep!"
"Was there such a man here...?"
"Then what of Lysis? She had a whole slew of children and they all prefered a different type of meat. But in truth they were just messing with her, coming up with animals that didn't exist. Once, she came to me and desperately wanted to know where she could find flying bear meat! And I told her that if those were real, I'd like to see what sort of flying deer they hunt!"
"Gathering and distributing food to the entire City was an ordeal. But you made a splendid job of it."
"You're flattering me, but you're not playing the game! Come now, I hope you at least remember little Nyf; he was a fearless brat, that one. Once, the many kings who had brought their people to our City were having a meeting, and then it was time for the baths. That's when Nyf snuck in and switched their crowns around! And he did the same with their belts, so they had to gauge each other's belly to know which belonged to whom! That boy had every royalty after him, and after being caught he went and hid behind you."
"That sounds familiar, yes..."
Phenech was not running short on peculiar stories, so much so that one had to wonder if he wasn't making some of them up. The storm king listened listlessly, offering only weak answers. It wasn't for lack of spirit, or almost, but even if he scraped for bits of memories he wouldn't know more than his friend.
Flight of stairs by flight of stairs, eventually they set foot on the lowest floor. From here they were surrounded by many a door that would lead them onto a different side of the City.
It didn't matter at all which one they took. Yet for some reason Joktan's feet moved on their own and he headed for one gate in particular.
As he approached it, he almost had an expectation of what he should see beyond: houses, rivers and the meadow stretching all the way to the horizon, undisturbed by any mound or mount.
But when he stepped into the light of day and exited the Tower-
"As I thought..." His expression remained unchanged, yet he could feel his heart sinking a bit. "It was a foregone conclusion"
The City that presented itself to them was a poor parody of the real deal. What had seemed genuine from a long distance now showed all of its flaws: the buildings were of the right shape and, he dared believe, the right colour; but they were barely there, like a mirage in the desert. The more minute the detail, the more it was bleached or entirely inexistent. And the people who should be walking back and forth from street to street, they were more shade than human. Spectres in a city that looked like it would vanish at a touch.
The faintest of sighs came from Joktan, and he turned to look at Migdal Bavel which was irreproachable in contrast.
"Don't look away." But Phenech admonished him. "This is the call of your homeland. Can you not hear it beckoning you?"
"...It is born from my soul. 'Tis no call but a testament to my neglectfulness."
"So you think – hah! But this recreation was not fashioned only by your hand." The dust king raised his arm softly, as though lifting a veil. "Don't look away; burn this sight in your eyes, that you may never again wander alone."
"...!"
Joktan turned around, towards the City of his making; a wind blew at their feet, came up and swept across that lifeless painting.
All at once, a profusion of vibrant colours, songs and scents bloomed. That wind embraced every corner of this world, washing away the feeble reality he had barely managed to put together. As though a deep mist had been blown away, a familiar yet different spectacle was revealing itself.
The pavement of the roads, where blades of grass were poking out against all odds.
The lanterns hanging from rooves, asleep for now but which would shine brightly come nightfall.
The dwellings of those who lived here, innumerable yet so vastly different depending on where he turned his neck.
The fabrics, the chariots loaded with tools or materials, the smell of food wafting in the air, flights of swallows taking rest on the rooftops, the gold and saffron tint of sunlight as it reflected on the walls of houses, and a myriad more of sounds and sight that overcame Joktan in the span of a second.
However, the crowning jewel of this scene was the living blood of Babel – the many silhouettes that flowed from one street to the next, commuting to and back from the Tower, moving up and down the stairs where the two Lords stood unmoving. Some of them raised their hands in reverent greetings, accompanied by warm smiles. Joktan knew it for a fact, because these persons now had faces and voices. The people of Babel was painted with such accute detail that they seemed made of solid flesh and warm blood.
"..." Joktan's hands was raised in front of him. To reach for what, he knew not; his expression was awe-struck. "This..."
"Welcome home, Jok." Phenech chuckled and resumed his descent. "Does it bring back memories?"
"..."
The storm king said nothing, but his silence was an answer in itself. Honestly, he wasn't sure he could describe it as remembrance when such a strong turmoil was awakening within him. Too much was coming to him at once, an explosion of a feeling he wouldn't know how to contain; like a cold heart that was beating again. And yet it was nothing more than the City he had known so well, neither embellished nor lacking.
He followed his friend down to the stairs, where the midday bustle of the populace livened up the alleys. The two of them traversed this world, not as two shadows in a desolate memory but as two inhabitants of this place, under the benevolent gaze of their brothers and sisters.
"Ah, darn it. I haven't been here in a while too. Makes me wanna bawl my eyes out – I don't have tear ducts though!" Phenech's head wouldn't stay in place, constantly shuffling around to absorb every part of this spectacle. "I didn't remember it to be this beautiful, heheh! It feels like the first time I've ever been here."
"... ... ... ... ...It has returned to me now." Joktan muttered. "Something I had forgotten."
"Hm? Hm, hm?"
"Near the mansion where I slept, there was a family where an infant had just been born. I knew because its cries could be heard all the way to my bedchambers. I remember now."
"Eh? That's it? I'm breaking my back to make all of this, and you can't remember more than that?!" The dust king fussed. "Talk about a hardhead! Were you that sleep-deprived?"
"I was happy." Joktan shook his head. "To think that this child and others would live in the utopia we were building, I found happiness in more than our dream. I resolved to create a future such that they would never want to look back. And I... yes, I had hoped so for my children as well. I thought that we couldn't tarry too much if I wanted them to see that future for themselves."
"...Hmph, I guess it was worth the effort then." Phenech looked up. "Well, we've done a fine work, you and I. But there's still a piece that's not quite finished."
"..." The vampire followed his gaze. "The goal we sought and tried to seize for ourselves."
Indeed, the sky that covered this dream land was not quite up to par compared to the rest. It was a perfectly fine firmament of blue and white, with the Great Star hanging in the middle of it. But it seemed to Joktan that the sky in his memories was much more beautiful and defined. A petty detail perhaps, but one that brought him back to reality and reminded him that all of this was ethereal.
"We both know who would could complete it in a snap." His friend snickered.
"...It will never be complete then."
Joktan looked at the City around them with a new lens. One of bitter resignation. Everything here was no more. Be it the people, the buildings or the ideal they had shared. The sole result of this miraculous achievement, of their five thousand years-long pilgrimage, was a sombre final note.
And so, he ended up looking at his feet rather than the illusion that brought back such bitter and sweet memories.
"Can't take your mind away from the present, can you?" Next to him, Phenech let out a dry chuckle. "You would better keep your face ahead and your wits about yourself however: I think we are lost."
"Lost?"
Joktan blinked in surprise at this ridiculous notion. How in the world could they lose their way within their own creation? It was all the more ludicrous since, when he raised his head and checked, he saw they were still walking the City's streets. Certainly, the latters were a bit more dim but that didn't change where they were. The number of people around them had also greatly diminished, yes. And a cold breeze was building up from the path ahead, giving him goose bumps despite the midday sun's caress.
And... there was...
...
"What is this place?" Joktan mused out loud.
"Say, Yok. Do you realize why you couldn't recreate a more faithful Babel?" When Joktan turned around, Phenech was staring at him with that lonesome eye of his. "For you, this was just a small part of your existence. This City, this Tower, and us as well. In all those years, you've seen so much more than I ever will. So please, won't you tell me about it?"
"My... life?"
"Nothing less. I could probably coop up answers from Migdal Bavel, but I want to hear it from you. What did you see? Where did you go? Who did you meet? How did the world change while we weren't looking? There's so much I wish I could know."
"..."
"Are you scared of underwhelming me? Or do you think the circumstances forced upon you make you less eligible? But even after being made into a creature of the night, you are still Joktan." Phenech started walking again, down this unknown path they had found. The vampire followed him with his eyes, until his feet moved in turn. "You know, it's not just the people of Babel, I remember you as well. Even in your self-imposed exile, I bet you couldn't take your eyes off humans. And even if it amounts to little, I will accept what you have. So tell me, Wanderer – tell me about your journey."
"...My recollection of it might not make the most valuable story."
"That's not a problem. You can take your time and remember. After all, isn't it at travel's end that we sit down and look back on the way we've walked? It's still here for you. And I will be the most patient audience."
The two of them walked, advancing toward that light.
There was something at the end of this path, Joktan knew it without even looking.
And he could have been scared of it, or ignored what it was trying to tell him.
But with another set of footsteps by his side he pressed on.
Down the line he had traced across time.
"The world I saw..."
Thank you for reading.
And... thank you for reading.
~Legends Storyteller