Lament of the Slave

“Miss Mooney?”

“Y-yes?” Hazel half swallowed her words. Excited as she was and a bit embarrassed, her attention was mainly on Grey and Palemoon, not on the old librarian.

“I think you can put the notebook away. If I know anything about the Geases, it will prevent you from relaying what we are about to hear in any form.”

“Oh, of course,” she nodded, kicking herself for not thinking of that herself. Back in the Great Library, she tried countless times to bypass the Geases she had taken there - just to test their strength, to see what was possible and what was not. When Hazel tried to put down on paper, the information meant to remain hidden behind the closed doors of the library, her hand holding the quill did not move an inch. In fact, it was a rather unpleasant experience, similar to cramps.

And so Hazel promptly put all the things she had so diligently organized for note-taking in this meeting back into her spatial tools. Her eyes, however, never left Stella Palemoon and the spirit of the Esulmor World Tree, Idleaf. The young woman, a niece of the City Lord, was about to be the second after Korra’leigh Grey to take the first part of the Oath.

And Medvin’s hairy balls! The process could not have been more different from taking regular Geas. That was magic inscribed in runes on a piece of parchment that bound you. Here, Hazel watched as Idleaf gently touched Stella Palemoon’s back. Despite the spirit’s earlier cheerful demeanor, she now sank into an eerie concentration.

Not long after, to the shock of many in the room - Hazel being no exception. In fact, she may have peed a little in her knickers - an ethereal copy of Stella herself emerged from within her. Created by magic, not Idleaf’s, for unlike the spirit’s violet, this copy of Stella Palemoon was the color of yellow fluttering before the woman as if it were her very soul being blown from her body by a strong wind.

Which, Hazel realized, might not be far from the truth. The soul was a concept used when things regarding humans weren’t easy to explain. A good example was the name Soul Dice. One might as well have said the essence of being, simply something inside living beings that made them - well, be - their inner self. There weren’t many books on the subject, and in the ones she had read, no one had come up with a clear answer. 

The inner self of humans and other beings was still more or less a mystery.

Because of this lack of insight from the books, Hazel wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking at. It might or might not have been the ‘soul’ of Stella Palemoon. But whatever the correct term was, Hazel was certain that the thing the spirit had pushed out of Palemoon’s body, most likely with some kind of pressure, was tightly bound to the young woman’s very being.

A shiver ran through her body at the sight.

The ‘soul’, looking deeply into Stella Palemoon’s eyes, copied her exact movements and expressions like a shadowy reflection in a mirror.

“Repeat after me,” spoke the spirit of the Esulmor World Tree. “I, Stella Palemoon, vow not to let what I am about to hear leave this room in any form, willfully or unwittingly, until it is further specified in the Oath what may and may not be heard by those outside the Oath sworn.”

Hazel was a little puzzled by the wording. It wasn’t very specific, but that was likely the point. The vagueness, or rather the broadness, of the Oath was what so thoroughly bound the person in question. Instead of saying I won’t lie about my age, it was like saying I will never lie.

What shocked everyone, however, was when Stella Pallemoon took a breath, yet it was her ‘soul’ that spoke the words. What’s more, her inner self used a language unheard of among humans outside of legends, myths, and fairy tales. A universal tongue, the language of the world, also known as soul-talk - in other words, the language that gave forth the power of names. 

It may have been the first time Hazel had heard it, but the meaning of each word burned deep into her mind, leaving no room for misinterpretation. It left her breathless, speechless, terrified, and in awe.

One could hardly imagine what it must have been like for Stella Pelemoon, whose inner self recited the Oath without a stammer. The bravery with which she took it made no sense to Hazel. ‘Had the City Lord’s niece witnessed it before?’ Because right now, Hazel’s eagerness and desire to go next had entirely left her.

With the last word spoken, the ‘soul’ shone brighter for a brief moment before its light died down and drifted back into Stella Palemoon’s body. Hazel didn’t need to search her books for references to know that the Oath had been taken.

Silence fell over the room.

“Who’s next?” Idleaf sang, looking around the room, excited to do that frightening thing again. No one answered her, not even Hazel.

“If you are unwilling to take the Oath,” Korra’leigh Grey spoke after clearing her throat. “You still have the chance to leave.”

“You seriously want me to take that? Madness,” the City Lord spat, his face ashen pale.

“I’m not forcing you,” the Guardian of Idleaf argued. “As I said, you . . .”

“You’re not the one telling me what to do. And I’m NOT taking this Oath, or whatever.”

“Uncle!”

“No, Stella. I don’t know how she tricked you, but . . .”

“That’s enough, Egerton,” Captain Rayden stopped him. “It was the World Trees who suggested this, not Grey.”

“Trees from who knows how far away. Besides, you didn’t hear that from them, did you, Rayden?”

“Actually, I did. Or have you forgotten that Idleaf is one too? Anyway, you still have time to think it over and find the courage your niece has,” Captain Rayden said, turning to the spirit with a strange smile on her lips. “Idleaf, I’ll be next. It would be pretty lame of me to back out now, wouldn’t it?”

The spirit squealed, jumped over to her, waited for her to get up, and did the same thing to her as she had done to Stella Palemoon, while Hazel - and the others - watched transfixed as she pushed the woman’s inner self out of her body. Hers was more orange, but the sight of it still gave Hazel the same goosebumps.

Captain Rayden, or rather her inner self, recited the same Oath, the same words binding the woman. And so it went, one by one. Sergeant Raimo Pinescar, Freyde Welkes, Harper Breadbaker, Meneurmut Ironhoof, Deckard, Lieutenants Marcus, Janina, Blaine and Rhys. With each new name, with each new person who took the Oath, Hazel felt more and more chicken-hearted, wondering where her former courage and determination had gone.

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” Mr. Sandoval spoke to her warmly, his hand on her shoulder. “It’s not worth losing yourself in the pursuit of knowledge.”

“Patherick rah Gooles - Tales of a Winter,” Hazel whispered the name of the book he was quoting from. It brought a smile to her face. Like him, she always found what she needed in books, whether it was entertainment, inspiration, solace, or the courage she so desperately needed right now. That one story told of a man who sought revenge through knowledge and became what he hated most. The old librarian was trying to tell her not to push herself to be something she was not, that not everyone was cut out to take a step into the unknown.

Hazel wasn’t like that, though. Surely not. Otherwise she wouldn’t have gone to Castiana, a backwater she knew little about until the Imperial Chief Healer told her about the job offer. She had what it took to take the one step that brought humanity to where it was today, out of the caves and into the world. Only . . .

“The Lonely Sunrise by Natalie Ella Oleigar,” Hazel said to the old librarian as she made up her mind. In that one story, the protagonist was so afraid to cross the river that she ended up alone on the bank while everyone else went on with their lives on the other side.

Mr. Sandoval smiled and gestured that she was free to go as Idleaf cheerfully asked for the next person to take the Oath.

Taking a deep breath, Hazel stood up, and before she knew it or could say anything, she had the World Tree’s spirit at her back. The moment Idleaf’s hand touched her, it was as if a boulder had hit her. Not really, of course. In fact, Hazel didn’t even stagger. Instead, she sort of stretched. At least, that’s how it felt to her. Nothing compared to the feeling that followed when she looked into her own eyes, only belonging to the blueish phantom-like form of herself. What Hazel found most surreal was that she could feel the other her, hear through her ears, see through her eyes. There was nothing like it - yet it made sense. That was her inner self, her soul.

“Repeat after me,” the spirit of the Esulmor World Tree spoke from behind her. “I, Hazel Mooney, vow . . .”

Hazel’s heart skipped a beat with joy. She hadn’t even spoken to Idleaf yet, and the spirit had already learned her name. Strangely enough, that gave her the strength to continue, and when Idleaf finished, Hazel began to recite her vow.

And it was . . . simply beyond words, nothing to be found on the Great Library’s book pages.

When Hazel spoke, it was her soul that did the speaking, each word delivered with such force that she felt her bones tremble. Then, as the bluish her returned to where it should be, and Hazel was one again - whole - an intense dizziness struck her. Her body seemed to struggle to make sense of the world around her, almost as if she’d been cut off from it.

“. . . ooney! Hey, Mooney!” Captain Rayden’s voice broke through the veil the Oath had wrapped around her.

“Y-yes?”

“Take two deep breaths. It will help.”

“If not,” Freyde Welkes added. “The slap seems to do the trick.”

Hazel chuckled weakly, remembering Harper Breadbaker’s smack. Not what she really wanted, and so she took those breaths. After the fourth, the world returned to normal - sort of. Hazel felt in her bones that this room would be her prison for the rest of her life until she took an Oath that specified what could and could not leave her lips outside of it.

Still, Hazel was proud of herself - thinking that if she had stayed in Wagonbrei, all of this would have remained myths and legends to her.

After her, Mr. Sandoval took the Oath, followed by Mrs. Palemoon.

“I am telling you - if this is bullshit, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life, Grey,” the City Lord sputtered, the only one left to make a decision. Hazel understood his reluctance all too well, however, not so much the hostility towards Korra’leigh Grey when it was Idleaf, the spirit she was Guardian of, who assisted in taking the Oath. 

Well, for whatever reason, the man eventually took it, too.

“Alright,” spoke the Guardian of the Esulmor World Tree, obviously nervous, grateful, and relieved as they managed to wake up the City Lord, who had passed out after his inner self returned to his body. “Thank you all for going along with this. Believe me, it wasn’t a whim to put you through this.”

“We know. The World Trees,” Breadbaker said, like most of them, more than eager to finally hear what the heck had happened to them and what the fuck they had seen that it took all this before they could tell them.

“The misshapen space, the maze that Stella and I fell into, took us across space - and time,” Grey blurted out as quickly as if it was something she’d been wanting to get off her chest for a long while. Still not saying much.

That it teleported them somewhere was a conclusion everyone came to and most sources they could find agreed on, but time? That wasn’t mentioned in any book.

“T-time?”

“Stop yapping and tell us where you ended up,” the City Lord bellowed, completely drowning out her question. If Hazel had to guess, the man was trying to save his bruised ego.

“We found ourselves in the heart of Fallen’s Cry, Uncle.” Stella Pallemoon took over.

“By heart, you mean . . . ?” Janina asked with a not-so-subtle hint of concern that this might have something to do with dragons after all.

“The core, the source of the Labyrinth’s power.”

“And you were in it?”

“I know how that sounds, ma’am,” Korra’leigh Grey said quickly to Captain Rayden. “But as it turns out, the labyrinths are powered by the friction between different times. In the cores of the labyrinths, moments of the past are caught in endless loops.”

Silence.

No one spoke, pondering what they had just heard, including Hazel. ‘Were they trapped in the past all the time? What past? It must have been the past from the time the labyrinths were constructed. Which meant they might have met the labyrinth builders!’ Her mind went to her notebook in spatial storage - she needed to write this down; doing so always helped her organize her thoughts. Except nothing happened. The Oath didn’t allow her to fully finish the thought.

In the end, it didn’t matter, not when the very past she’d spent most of her life trying to find the answer to was unfolding beneath the heart of this city and apparently over and over again

 

***

 

Sah, his real name hidden by the strongest Geas he had known to date - the Oath itself an experience worth going through, if only for the sake of his job, where every bit of information could be vital - tried to wrap his head around what he had just listened to. The labyrinths were powered by the friction of different times - that meant that at the cores of the labyrinths were pockets of the past.

Knowing the range of abilities of each class was one of the basics of being a good agent, and essential to staying alive in the field long enough to retire. That said, Imperial Agents never actually retired, not really. Anyway, Sah knew the rough skills of the time mages, rare as they were. And playing with time was very demanding. Even the strongest one known to them could only turn the clock back a dozen hours, and that was for a single individual. Great for healing someone - not something on the scale Grey and Palemoon were suggesting.

Much to his frustration, he learned the hard way that common sense didn’t apply in Grey’s case. By all rights, she should have been a horrid mutant, hard to look at, like the others they had found, yet she was a nice-looking young woman - by teran standards. Her mind should have been twisted by mind mages, but it wasn’t. She should have been torn apart by the beasts of Esulmor Woods; instead, she befriended them. Not to mention the whole World Tree thing. Her becoming a Guardian of Idleaf had turned what should have been a punishment into an exciting gig.

Well, for a few days anyway.

For almost nine months, he’d been kicking himself for thinking that nothing much could happen to her in the Labyrinth - but it was Grey, after all. If shit could hit the fan, it did. And today the same thing had happened; who knows how she and Palemoon got back.

Sah hated to admit it, but his hands trembled when he wrote his report to his superiors and the Imperial Chief Healer.

The time thing though. If what they said was true and there was a time pocket down there, potentially from thousands of years ago - the danger of that scared him more than the look in the eyes of his inner self.

“H-how big of a time pocket are we talking about, Grey?”

The girl thought about it, which in itself was not a good thing. The pocket was big. “It was more like a bubble, with the center being the Labyrinth square, the statue and - it extended well beyond the peaks of the Granora Mountain Range.”

“Shit!” The swear just slipped off his tongue. He wasn’t the only one  to curse. The implications were not lost on him alone. To say that the time pocket was big was an understatement. It was huge, monstrous.

“And what time period are we talking about, Miss Grey? I would guess the time of the labyrinth construction itself.”

An excellent question from the old librarian. 

“Roughly,” Grey nodded, much to his horror. For all he knew, to contain such a distant past and keep it out of the present had to require tremendous power. “The construction of Fallen’s Cry had not yet begun in that part of the echo of the past, but several other labyrinths were under construction or completed.”

There it was, a time removed from this one by millennia. Should something go wrong, not only Castiana, but the entire Sahal Empire might disappear. And that was a very conservative estimate.

“Are you sure, Grey? Because I-if . . .” His voice quavered. Unprofessional.

“I know. The present cannot last in the past. While the past cannot exist in the present at all. Should that happen, the past will destroy the present.”

Sah was speechless. It was - something he hadn’t expected to hear from her, and far more than he knew. Nevertheless, the way Grey spoke, she was damn sure of her words.

“Wait - are you trying to tell us that the damn Labyrinth could kill us all?” Mrs. Palemoon asked, her eyes glazed over with horror fixed on her daughter.

The younger Palemoon nodded. “If something goes wrong, yes. But we were assured that should the runes holding the echo of the past away from the present fail, the whole system would shut down in time.”

Good to hear, not really reassuring, though. It implied that things could go wrong, but then, wasn’t that the case with everything, and especially with Grey? Again, in her case, everything that could go wrong usually did.

Nonetheless, he hadn’t missed a few details. They both kept mentioning the echo of the past, not the past, and . . .

“You were assured? By whom?” Lieutenant Blaine asked, taking the question out of his mouth. Sah had to admit, after working with him for a few months now, that the man would make an excellent agent. 

***

Until now, Idleaf hadn’t paid that much attention. All that talk didn’t interest her very much. After all, why dwell on the past when there was so much to do now. Like the Oath thing, it was so much fun.

But now her curiosity was piqued. 

‘Korra’leigh wasn’t away with Stella alone? There was someone else with them? And for such a long time?’ 

It hurt. 

Korra’leigh didn’t tell her. 

Granted, Idleaf didn’t ask. She was so excited to have her back. Yet now worry gripped her wooden heart. ‘What if Korra’leigh was gone for so long because she found someone there she liked more than her?’ She quickly banished the thought. Korra’leigh came back to her and didn’t stay there. Still . . .

“Well, I think you have an idea, Blaine,” her Guardian spoke in a playful tone. Or so it sounded to her ears.

And so Idleaf tried to think as well, but no one in particular came to mind. There was no way anyone could know who Korra’leigh and Stella were with. She herself had tried to reach them numerous times, but to no avail.

“Traiana?” the man named Blaine tried.

‘Eh? The woman trapped in her own nightmare? As she once was herself? Did that mean that Korra’leigh was trapped there with her?’ It made so much sense to her now why she couldn’t get to her. She was trying to find her somewhere in this world while Korra’leigh was trapped in that woman’s nightmare. Her roots didn’t reach there.

“Yeah,” Korra’leigh nodded. “We met Traiana there.”

“And not just one,” Stella added and went on. “The patron of the Labyrinth and . . .”

“. . . well, one living through the nightmare of those days,” Korra’leigh finished when Stella couldn’t find the right words only to lock eyes with her. “You were right, Idlaef, and I should have listened more. As the patron of Fallen’s Cry, Traiana is forced to watch her own nightmare over and over again. It’s a terrible fate.”

“Of course I was, and you should,” Idleaf beamed joyfully, her etheric chest swelling with pride at the praise. However, at the same time, her wooden heart was stricken with heaviness. “So you helped her like you helped me?”

To her dismay, Korra’leigh shook her head, sadness in her eyes. “We were too weak, Idleaf.”