Aisling stood frozen for a moment, her eyes scanning the strange creature before her. The small specter seemed almost amused, floating with an air of lightness. It smiled—if one could call the narrowing of its bright blue eyes a smile—then spoke in a soft, almost teasing voice.
"You must have a lot of questions. You always have, don't you?"
Aisling shook her head, as if trying to shake off her stupor. She opened her mouth, hesitated for a moment.
"Why didn't you look like this… before?"
"It was because of the spell," the little creature grew serious.
"What spell?"
"Since the rulers of this kingdom left, time had frozen, we withered, trapped in this shadowy state," the specter nodded slightly, its voice tinged with melancholy. "But now that you've broken the spell...We are free!"
It lifted its arms in a theatrical gesture and twirled in place. Aisling glanced down at the metallic flower still in her hand. She gently turned it between her fingers, studying it again.
"You were trapped... all this time?" She suddenly stopped, her eyes widening as a realization hit her. "Wait... is that what you... you've been trying to tell me... for the past ten years?"
The creature nodded with a smile, floating lazily around her.
"It's okay. The waiting was much longer before you first arrived. Ten years? That was just a blink of an eye."
Aisling's apology faltered on her lips, replaced by deep contemplation. She lifted her gaze to the grand hall, taking in the intricate details of the castle around her.
"This realm... it's yours? You built all this?" she asked, gesturing broadly at the vast space surrounding her.
The Dusk Dweller burst out laughing, a light and ethereal sound.
"Oh no, no, not at all. This wasn't our creation. We were offered refuge here after the Apocalypse... to hide."
A strange echo resonated within Aisling's heart, reminding her of her own people. She squinted, curious.
"What were you hiding from?"
"I... I think our leader should answer that question." The specter suddenly grew uneasy, its floating movements becoming more nervous. It cast an eager look at Aisling, brimming with excitement. "Come, follow me!"
Aisling hesitated, staring at the little creature, then down at the flower still in her hand. She held it out toward the specter.
"Wait... take it. It's yours, right?"
The Dweller shook its head gently, floating backward.
"No. It's yours now."
Aisling followed the floating specter outside the castle, her footsteps echoing faintly on the stone floor. Upon reaching the courtyard, she was struck by the sudden transformation of the landscape. The once-imposing wall of thorns had shriveled beneath the sunlight, dry, brittle branches, almost reduced to ash.
Still a bit stunned by everything unfolding around her, she noticed other creatures approaching slowly, floating and murmuring among themselves, exuding a cautious curiosity. The Dwellers had regained their original forms, their ethereal, dark bodies glowed with those same blue patterns. They seemed at peace, their energy and presence far less oppressive than before. They varied in size and form, some male, some female, with more or fewer eyes. A few bolder ones attempted timid waves of greeting, to which Aisling awkwardly responded with a nod or an uncertain smile. Comparing them to the small one beside her, she guessed that her young companion was still quite juvenile compared to the others.
The healer passed through the ruined gate with ease, her curiosity piqued by the spectacle awaiting her beyond. As she stepped through the final crumbling arch, she stopped dead, her eyes wide with amazement at the unexpected sight.
The snow that had once blanketed the ground had completely evaporated, revealing a landscape of breathtaking beauty. The earth, once trapped in an eternal frost, awoke now, covered in vibrant, silvery-green grass, almost luminescent. Flowers with shimmering petals in shades of blue, violet, and gold dotted the plain. Their colors seemed to subtly shift with the gentle breeze, as if they were breathing life for the first time in centuries.
Farther down, at the foot of the hill, the city stretched out before her. The buildings now revealed delicately crafted structures of polished stone and light metal. Thin rivers winding through the streets sparkled in the daylight, their crystal-clear blue waters almost unnaturally pure, light bridges and arches spanned the waterways.
The sky had retained its shades of mauve and gold, but now shifted to a brilliant pink. And there, shining with a soft, comforting golden light, a sun. It bathed the scene in a soothing warmth, its rays caressing the world with a newfound tenderness, as if it were awakening the very earth itself after an endless slumber.
Aisling stood, mouth agape, awestruck by the vastness of the spectacle. All around her, movements caught her eye—trees trembling, creatures leaping through the tall grass. The world itself is coming back to life.
"It's... incredible..." she whispered, dazzled.
The Dweller floating joyfully beside her twirled around, radiant with energy.
"Yes, it's beautiful, isn't it? And so calm! Well, not calm like it was before, like, you know, dead calm! No, just... calm."
But suddenly, a piercing scream shattered the peaceful atmosphere. A familiar voice echoed in the air. Fenja.
"Ah... not so calm after all, I guess," the young creature winced.
Aisling immediately rushed down the hill, running in that direction, racing through the streets at full speed.
"This way!" the Dweller called, floating just ahead of her.
They passed quickly by buildings that seemed to be awakening as well, while the entire city brightened under the unexpected sunlight. Every turn, every passage between the ruins appeared a little more alive with each step.
Finally, they emerged at the library. Aisling stopped for a moment, panting, to take in the scene. There, among the dusty shelves, Fenja and Idris stood, weapons drawn, in a defensive stance. Their eyes were fixed on the crowd of Dwellers gathered there, who were desperately trying to show they posed no threat.
"It's all right! It's all right, everyone calm down!" Aisling rushed between her friends and the specters, raising her hands in a calming gesture.
"Get away from them!" Idris ordered, his voice harsh.
"Demons!" Fenja, however, seemed more puzzled than furious, eyeing the creatures with disbelief. "Aisling, can't you see them?"
"I see them! I see them!" Aisling shook her head, a little panicked by her friends' reactions. "But they mean us no harm."
Fenja frowned, still skeptical. One of the creatures raised a finger, as if to correct the misunderstanding.
"And we are not demons," it said calmly. "We are Watchers."
"These are the Dusk Dwellers… well, their true form!" Aisling hurried to explain, choosing her words carefully, aware of the tension. "They were trapped here because of a spell. The entire realm was. I... well, I kind of broke that spell and it set time in motion again..."
"You did what?" Fenja went pale, her eyes widening in horror.
"Listen, they're not our enemies," sensing the rising tension, Aisling quickly continued. "They came here to escape the Apocalypse. They're refugees, just like us..."
A heavy silence followed. Fenja and Idris exchanged perplexed glances, visibly struggling to process the information. The huntress eventually let some of the tension in her shoulders ease, though she didn't lower her bow. The small juvenile specter still floated beside Aisling, watching her with a glimmer of gratitude in its bright blue eyes.
An older Watcher, visibly in poor condition, slowly moved forward through the crowd, with the others parting for him in deep respect. He was missing an arm, and part of his body, from his side to his face, seemed to have been scorched by flames. Every movement he made appeared painful, but his gaze stayed sharp, filled with immense wisdom and gravity.
"What she says is true," he said in a raspy voice, broken by the years but imbued with undeniable authority.
All eyes turned to him, including those of Idris and Fenja, who scrutinized him with suspicion. The old Watcher continued, standing as tall as possible despite his condition.
"I speak on behalf of my people, and we express our gratitude for what you have done," he declared, his eyes locking onto Aisling's with sincere appreciation. "We fled from our former masters, and were offered refuge here."
"Former masters?" Idris repeated with disdain, clearly on edge.
The old Watcher nodded slowly, a mix of resignation and pain in his eyes.
"We once served the Charred Council."
At these words, Fenja let out a sharp hiss, her muscles tensing instantly. Her eyes flashed with suspicion as she tightened her grip on her weapon, ready to react at the slightest sign of danger. Idris, for his part, burst into bitter, sarcastic laughter.
"Ah, perfect then! It's not like the Charred Council played a major role in the destruction of Earth and humanity. Not at all!" he said with a caustic tone, his words laced with resentment.
"Please, listen to them!" Aisling, sensing the tension rising dangerously, rushed to calm the situation.
She looked at each of them in turn, pleading with her friends not to let the situation escalate. She could almost feel the electricity in the air, aware that one wrong move could tip everything over. The old Watcher raised a hand to reassure her, a faint smile seeming to crease his eyes.
"Don't worry, young healer. They have every reason to be wary of us. We deserve it."
He took another step forward, his gaze meeting that of Fenja and Idris in turn, unwavering.
"We are a race of slaves, created by the Council solely to serve them, to be their eyes, their ears, and their intermediaries. Our very nature can only inspire distrust. But we renounced those masters when we learned that another path was possible. We sought to flee, to hide, to escape their yoke. And it is here that we found refuge."
"And why should we believe that?" Fenja, still on guard, narrowed her eyes at him. "How do we know this isn't another one of their games to deceive us?"
"You can't," he tilted his head slightly, as if this question didn't surprise him. "You will have to judge us by our actions... and our sacrifices."
The old Watcher gently grasped the stub of his shoulder, his expression darkening. Aisling noticed, for the first time, how deeply marked the Watchers around her were by wounds. The specter who had accompanied her seemed so joyful, but upon closer inspection, she too bore scars: burning marks around her wrists, as if she had been chained. A sense of unease settled within her.
"What happened?" she asked in a wavering voice, her gaze moving from one to another, stopping at the scars, the missing limbs, the eyes dulled by pain.
"Freedom comes with a price," the old one sighed, his words resonating with a deep sadness.
"Then why did you come here?" Idris, still on guard, intervened with suspicion. "And most importantly, why is this realm connected to Nimrach?"
"The war was not only destructive for humans and the Earth," the Watcher replied slowly, weighing each of his words. "It ravaged far more than that. Even the forces of Light were devastated, and the balance between the realms was shattered in a way no being would have believed possible. But this war is not bearable for all. Some angels and demons suffered terribly. The most desperate found a way for their souls to never be reincarnated. They chose eternal forgetfulness, thus fleeing forever from the violence of battle."
He gestured slowly to the landscape around them—the hills, the ruins, the distant city.
"But others sought another path. They dreamed of coexistence, of an alternative. This world was created as a refuge. A last chance for those who were tired of war and destruction. We found shelter here... until those who built it also fell, victims of the war they had fled. And then, their gift—this world—fell asleep, buried under ice and the mists of time.
As for why our two worlds are connected… We have no answer," admitted the Watcher gravely. "The first time the basin activated... we were as surprised as you. It was another time, and a little girl, sad and lost, appeared. You."
Aisling froze, her eyes widening in surprise. The mention of her own arrival in this world, years ago, returned to her memory with new intensity. All this time... she had been just a child seeking comfort.
The old Watcher smiled slightly, a sad, almost nostalgic smile.
"Perhaps it was destiny, or perhaps it was simply coincidence. But you opened the door. And now, we wish to help you."
Fenja cautiously crept closer to Aisling, grabbing her arm to pull her toward her.
"We don't need help," she murmured, her tone urgent. "We should go back now."
Aisling, however, gently freed herself from her grip.
"Do you know why so few children are born with a soul? Why humans seem... stagnant?" she asked, desperate for answers.
The old Watcher slowly rubbed his chin, thinking aloud.
"It was a well-known fact that the souls of humanity had joined the Well of Souls after the destruction of the Earth. They await reincarnation, but..." He paused, as if deciphering a complex puzzle. "This must have a connection to the Tree of your new world. The souls may still be accustomed to incarnating where humans once thrived, on Earth, the only world populated by your species."
The three young humans looked at each other, completely bewildered.
"A tree?" Idris asked, looking perplexed.
"The Tree of Life and Death. It is through there that all souls pass to be reincarnated. There is one in every world."
The faces of Aisling, Idris, and Fenja remained confused.
"We have the Tree-Temple on Nimrach, but nothing more..."
"Nimue seems to have taken a liking to you, healer," The old Watcher nodded, his wise gaze fixed on them. "Perhaps she could accompany you and examine this tree for herself."
Aisling turned to the little fluttering specter. Nimue, then. She hadn't even asked if it had a name. Fenja crossed her arms, immediately opposing this idea.
"No way a creature from here comes with us. We don't even know what it could do to Nimrach."
"I'll be as discreet as a shadow," Nimue turned to Aisling and drew towards her the metallic flower that she still held in her hand. With a graceful gesture, she waved her fingers and gently twisted the metal to transform it into a ring adorned with the same flower. Then, with a fluid motion, she handed it back to Aisling.
Without waiting, the little Watcher dove into the ring, her spectral body blending into the metal as if absorbed. Her voice echoed softly, still perceptible.
"Neither seen nor known."
"Ingenious," Idris remarked, a playful smile on his lips.
Fenja, however, remained skeptical, her distrust clearly visible on her face. Aisling looked at her insistently, trying to convince her.
"This is the first time we're getting answers, Fen. We have to seize this chance."
The huntress grimaced but eventually capitulated.
"Alright, but it's a quick round trip. Just enough time for the Watcher to analyze the Tree-Temple, and nothing more. Otherwise, our people will start noticing something."
"By breaking the spell and setting this world in motion again, time has resumed its course," the old Watcher raised his hand to stop them for a moment, his face serious. "If discretion is your priority, I advise you to hurry. Your absence must have been noticed."
The faces of Aisling, Idris, and Fenja paled at these words. The weight of the situation suddenly hit them squarely. Without further delay, they hurriedly gathered their belongings, turning toward the exit of the city, their urgency palpable in their movements.
Aisling cast one last glance back, the Watchers watching them leave. She raised her hand in a gesture of promise, a temporary farewell. They would return.