Note to readers: I highly recommend reading this story on AO3 (under the same username and title) because there are serious formatting issues on this platform, primarily due to the fact that this site removes the extra white space in chapters 4, 6, and 7. I have found a way around this issue, but it's not very elegant.

This story will be updated every 2-3 days until it is complete.

In which a stranger finds an even stranger building on a strange asteroid on an unfamiliar planet.

I promise, this isn't a weird sci-fi story.

I. Landing

He picks up the book after checking it for any curses. No matter what the source, you check it for curses; it's a common refrain that his parents had drilled into his head from his youth. He truly has no idea how old this book was. The parchment material is completely unfamiliar. Neither is the covering and binding—alien. Although, he reminds himself, of course it's alien. I'm inside a weird building on an asteroid.

It is true. By some miracle—or disaster, really; depending on where you were on the planet—in the meteor shower last night, one large asteroid fell to the planet's surface. Since it was in a remote area of the planet, only recently colonised, the asteroid did not manage to harm any of the human population, to their great relief. The flora and fauna in the region were certainly another story.

Regardless, he had made his way to the asteroid first and laid claim to its treasures by carefully placing a conjured rope around the perimeter of the crash zone; labelling it periodically with "Already under investigation. Keep out." But instead of fascinating rocks and minerals, he had found this strange building. A building. A perfectly intact building. It was massive and undoubtedly otherworldly; it certainly looked like some of the buildings he saw in some of his equally otherworldly history books. It was also undoubtedly magical. It had been so carefully preserved, so he knew it was undoubtedly made by ancient magicians. He had learned about how the ancient magicians had powerful yet dangerous methods to construct buildings that lasted for eternity in his history courses at university. This building had to be one of them—and as a result, everything inside the building was dangerous.

But the building did not feel dangerous, he noticed upon stepping inside. The magic was thick, and he was almost overwhelmed with the idea that the magic inhabiting this structure was excited to have someone inside it. This immediately put him on guard, worried that he was about to be trapped inside a building with no escape. He was slightly reassured, however, that his signage outside would not stop people forever, so that his dead body would hopefully one day be found.

The magic seemed to calm down after he tensed up in reaction, almost apologetic. It tried to communicate a sense of loneliness—a sense of a vast passage of time filled with darkness and the unending cold, countered by fiery heat and pain to resolve into a pleasant warmth and friendly greeting. It was trying to communicate with him, he realised. This aspect of ancient civilization had never been recorded in his studies. That detail had surely been lost to time. This building was alive.

He relaxed slightly, but still felt nervous. The building had tried to explain that it had been alone for a very long time, likely during its time on an asteroid (who decides to construct a building on an asteroid, he thought). It had been very afraid during the meteor shower, which was fiery and painful. It was now happy that it was in a warm place with friends. Or at least, that's what he wanted to think. It could have been talking about how it thought that he was a dark and cold enemy that would suffer fiery pain and burn to death in order to make the building feel happy and friendly, but he figured he would take his chances.

So he explored the building and marvelled at how impeccably clean and beautiful it was, if you appreciated the ancient architects' style choices. Personally, he thought the colour choices were hideous, but he supposed he couldn't blame asteroid architects their preferences.

He had found what he thought was a library—and was excited at first when he thought that thousands of books from an ancient civilization had somehow survived a space trip, and was subsequently disappointed to find that most had disintegrated.

But the book he has in his hands, however was one of the few that he found intact. He hopes that, despite all odds, the book will tell the story of its journey. He says this out loud, for emphasis. And then the building seems to understand him—and then seems to guide him away from the book in his hands and toward a different room altogether.

Generally, the building is odd. One notable feature is its peculiar ramps leading everywhere that are surprisingly unintuitive. However, the space he is led to is the strangest he has seen so far. It is full of ramps. Ramps as high as the top of the building, starting at the base. It is the worst use of space he has ever seen in his life. He truly doubts the ancient architects had any common sense.

But ignoring the odd ramps everywhere, he is guided to the centre of the column of ramps. He feels prompted to lift the stone from the ground—and he recoils because this is not how you lead an archaeological dig! But the building is insistent and he was never one for self-control, so he obeys. Underneath the stone is a small box. He takes it out of the opening, and replaces the stone. He says thank you to the air, and then quickly leaves the offensive room behind. He dislikes ramps. They are not efficient.

He proceeds to the room he saw when he first entered the building and sits himself on the ground, not wanting to disturb the undoubtedly fragile furniture.

He opens the box, and inside finds an image of four people smiling. The building magic swirls around him thickly and he realises that these four people clearly are important for the building's history. The reverse of the image has ruins on it—a vaguely familiar runic language, but completely incomprehensible to his eyes.

Underneath the image is a tome. It is rich with magic and impressively heavy. He eagerly picks up the book and turns to the first page, only to belatedly realise he would never be able to read its text. The runes are the same as on the image. Begrudgingly he accepts that he will have to consult one of the universities for assistance in translating the volume.

He leaves for the day, but makes sure to cast a strong spell around the structure. He wants to make sure that no one else can raid this building before he is finished exploring. This way, only he can find it. He's quite selfish in that way.

He decides he will seek a translator that same day—this is much too important to put off until tomorrow. He visits his old professor he got along well with, and copies down some of the runes before showing him the book. He doesn't want any thievery going on here until he knows the man is trustworthy, of course.

The professor is amazed by the runes, and says that they are undoubtedly genuine and well over several thousand years old. He already knew this, of course, considering they came from off of an asteroid. He asks the professor if he can translate them, because he has many more of the ruins. The professor becomes so excited that he needs to take a potion for his nerves.

He swears the professor to secrecy, and the professor is not one for giving up knowledge so he agrees, and then he brings out the book and the professor looks at it in awe.

The professor asks if he can touch the book. Permission is granted, and so he opens the pages, and tears come to his eyes. You have found something priceless, the professor weeps. I will die happy.

He is alarmed—you can't die until you translate it!

The professor quickly straightens him out and informs him sharply that he is not going to die until every last inch is translated.

Although the ruins are translated fairly easily, the words they form are difficult to parse. The grammar and language style are obtuse with far too many words for far too little meaning. The economy of language, the professor admits, was not yet achieved by this writing. He becomes even more excited.

The more they translate, the more they realise that what they have is not just a history of a building's origins. It's a history of a world that is so far removed that it only exists in legends but here they have the proof of it in their hands. It existed and the stories their parents and grandparents and great-grand parents told them were real not just legends and no one knows but them.

So they do what any reasonable people would do, and tell no one—yet. They have to finish translating, first. They don't want the government to come and take this away from them. This has become a spiritual experience—no longer an academic endeavour.

Because that building they found—it's not just a building. It's a soul.