Empathy Ch. 4

Journal entry xx - (Outer Sands and its offerings)

We had been running for so long that we couldn't remember what it was like to have a stable home. I remember when we first found this place that it felt too perfect to stop at. Like a mirage. I cried that day, overwhelmed with the tragedy of living in a wasteland built by my own exhausting demons. The draught that the heart often offers is simply far worse than any barren land, but a good night's sleep always helps. I have this vivid memory of the first stake breaking ground and the boulders falling off the shoulders of all my kin as our home was born. All these people- worn and weathered and beaten down but so damn full of hope built this place from the ground up. Here, home, we are safe from most of the magnetic rolling storms with their electric blue ionized clouds. A stone's throw from its western base, we have an oasis beaming with life, and the good kind. Not the chemically altered and viciously rabid desert creatures such as the behemoth sand vipers and rust dogs. No, they were rarely around, and it was vital to our survival. What really signified its rarity, what caused these shoulders to relax, was the seemingly endless mosswood reservoir germinating from a large cavern mouth just in between the two landmarks. The mosswood was beyond plentiful, covering the dusty landscape from the northern rocks to the western water. This would be the perfect cloaking device against those who hunted us. This was the safety we thirsted for on dusty trails. The healing effects of the mosswood meant we would have a medical tent and could resume our studies of the herb as well as barter for supplies with traveling merchants and back-alley vendors when we visit major cities. And we do. Our company seems to have an aura of unified hope for the first time since its inception. This place feels like home. The feeling won't last, we know that, but the reprieve has allowed us to ground ourselves and recuperate.

We decided to build our armory over the mosswood cavern to keep our supplies under the radar while we studied the bullet husk caverns below. There were so many questions about the bullet husk and their relation to the mosswood and we wanted to get to the bottom of it. We still haven't learned much about the bullet husks as of yet, but we have been able to utilize the mosswood to great effect. We have tripled our potency of medicines and created unique filtration devices that could help us traverse the poisonous underground one day.

No one knew how far the caverns went, as a vast majority of it was natural, established by those large bullet husks that wandered under the sands, breaching scarcely to take in a ray of sun. They were akin to the size and shape of a train car yet were blind and lacking legs. Instead, they rotated and contorted their curved-scale bodies as their elephant-like trunks piloted them through the rocky layers. Their melodic movement was a mix of a drill bit and a snake that left spiraling grooves throughout their underground trails. Their scales had a dark, iridescent-indigo sheen on top of an otherwise matte grey armor. There had only ever been a child's handful of confirmed sightings of these beautiful creatures. It is believed that there were signs when they were near if you paid attention to the world around you. Starting with slight quakes underfoot that would grow into a deep humming like a whale's underwater call that could be heard for miles- the mix of their excavation and mating rituals. As far as we knew, they were mostly solitary creatures. We have no idea how their social dynamic works or how long they care for their young. There has never been a spotting of an adolescent bullet husk- their average lifespan eluding us as well.

From the scarce amount of remains that have been recovered and studied, we know their trunks were lined with sensory nodes that were receptive to different minerals, allowing them to navigate to resources efficiently. They left a musky, smokey smell in any caverns they drilled. The few available studies suggest that this was due to their large diet of flint as well as varying plants. While most of the husk's remains decompose, the digestive system of the bullet husk remains perfectly intact, with the guts and bowels having a dense mineral concentration. Their stomach was akin to a forge, that would pressurize and melt the contents of their diet. Their excrement was a smokey magma that gave their homes that signature scent. The sensitive hairs that protruded from their scales were 98% mosswood and their stubby trunks were actually dense and fibrous with a herringbone encasing that could pivot back and forth in its slots, allowing protection from debris while movement for tracking. There is a highly debated theory that the bullet husks are the creators of the mosswood vs. the couriers that spread this healing herb like a bee pollinating flowers.

Every attempt to track the tunneling under the surface of the planet was an utter failure. Extreme fluctuation in temperatures, treacherous terrain and the dangerous chemical compounds in the air made spelunking and surveying nearly impossible. A majority of the bullet husk, from their bones to their shells and the mosswood that wove in and out, was dangerously valuable. Attempts to poach and harvest bullet husk parts along with mosswood fed a large movement years ago that ended in disaster and death. Political organizations, corporations and medical conglomerates alike paid beaucoup bucks for parts, with private contracts and personal voyages. It didn't take long for these explorations to be shut down and deemed unlawful. Still people continued to persist. Nearly everyone that had made it back from these murky-earth depths noted a certain presence always around them in the depths; a static in the air like a warning to ward off travelers and make those weary trespassers wary. Those who came back at all were subject to hazy memories and mumbling mouths. Their dilated pupils and trembling hands never fully recovered. Tests have been inconclusive as to the origin of the symptoms. Tracking with rovers and similar tech was even less successful. The mosswood residue coating the walls of the inner caverns knocked out all communication with the outer world, while analog tapes came back erased. The same static energy that mocked the travelers? Maybe.

______

We had to be at least a mile past our man-made entrance to the husk-born caverns. There was no going back at this point as the defenses went off exactly as designed, crushing the entrance to the caves and sending dust and debris all around to shroud our escape. It would take a decent amount of sifting and searching for the council to find out we were gone. I doubt they would find the entrance which had been demolished along with a good amount of the start of the cavern itself. They were less than likely to follow, considering the well-known dangers of the bullet husk world. We would be presumed dead.

Luckily, we had been preparing for a moment like this.

"These grand hallways were considered sacred by many, particularly the mossfolk." started Geltor, one of the remaining party members and leader of the spirit house of the encampment. He had a very full beard that went down to his chest, white but peppered with what used to be a fire red until nature ran its course. He had deep golden-brown eyes with large bags underneath as if they were harboring everything he had ever seen. His bald head was stamped with a faded tattoo on his crown that looked somewhere between a lemniscate and bursting stars. He was a historian with an efficacy for religions, both the new and the dead. The symbol atop his head represented just that. He ran his hands along the walls as he spoke. "These mossfolk are a contemporary religious tribe of people that devoted their existence to the mosswood and the bullet husks, believing that they are the source of awakening to our shuttered minds."

Hector cut him off "The mossfolk aren't even real, Geltor. No one is praying to a plant and the people pretending they are mossfolk are living in cities and cosplaying with robes"

"I mean we praise the mosswood as much as any Hec" I retorted. "We built our home around it, live off it."

Talith followed my lead "Aaaaand contrary to the ancient dead religions, this is based off a real herb, one that changed the world. One that our spirits hearken to whether we want them to or not. This isn't founded on withered pages and old man scribbles."

"It smells like a bonfire in here" said someone in the party, of which I couldn't discern. Another mentioned roasting sugarclouds and chocolate and a majority of the party groaned with a hunger for snacks. Or maybe it was in mourning of the family we had just lost and the placid nights we couldn't have anymore.

"A valuable resource is hardly a daily worship. We utilize mosswood but aren't building a fantasy in the clouds with it." Hector brought the focus back to the current conversation and found himself between a half chuckle and a scoff at the absurdity of the idea that mosswood, or anything for that matter, could be holy.

"No, no.. They live a nomadic and secluded life, but they.. the mossfolk, exist. And are well documented. Yess.." Geltor tapped the air with his finger as if confirming his own point. He drifted into thought for a moment before continuing "heh, most are believed to be underground.. in places just like this," he waved his hands around to show the wonder of their location. "And blind, ohhh yes definitely blind" he was lifting eyebrows and glancing side to side as if being watched "but living in diverse underground biomes, warding off poachers and protecting the husks. It is a symbiotic relationship."

"Sounds more like a way of life than a religion."

"Indeed!" jumped Geltor "And so it seems to go. Through all my readings and searches, I've found a lot of misunderstandings. Often the practice of religions, dead and new alike, are in a dangerous tumble with the original core beliefs."

"How so?" Devin asked with a contorted face of curiosity. The youngest of our group and one of Talith's lab hands, she was always curious but never seemed to catch on.

"When someone finds a balance in life - a cohesive flow with their surroundings - a truth in existence... it becomes malformed by the time their learnings reach the masses. There is a brutal greed in the common heart which leads to a destructive twist on each of these enlightened one's teachings. Balance does not exist within order. There is the act of doing and the act of praying. These are vastly different. So yes, Hector, the mossfolk religion does not exist and those dancing above ground in robes are not practicing anything. The mossfolk, though, are alive and well and existing with purpose and balance."

Hector seemed to be taking it in with all its complexity. Others asked questions and some of us just listened and stared off into the darkness as we moved forward. It was clear that no one was ready to talk about our lost family and destroyed home- it was burning the edges of my mind. I welcomed the discourse in its stead, but I couldn't keep it at bay much longer. We needed to keep moving our feet and our minds alike. I knew that tonight would be full of horrors if I slept at all.

Sweat stained most of our brows as the distance and the heat increased steadily. There was a foul sulfuric stench billowing up from vents in the rock. Still, we trekked further, careful not to remove the ventilators we had donned from the static-dust fight with Reaper. They were crude but keeping fresh-enough air circulating through our lungs. Our visors fogged. My throat ached. There was a tension in the air.

Hector stopped quickly and turned to the party with a concerning expression. We all stopped and stared back. A long moment passed as we waited in anticipation. The silence became deafening once our feet stopped. I looked ahead to see if there was something ahead Hector had seen. My nostrils began to burn, the heat rising even still.

"Who farted?" Blurted out Talith, in a lower voice to mock Hector. I let out a loud wheeze of a laugh which broke the rest of the party into hysterical laughter. The kind of laughter that bellows in children's hearts before the world weighs them down. Our laughter swelled and dwindled then swelled again until we were in tears, hands on knees and gasping for breath. We let the tears roll as laughter in the stead of the pain we were feeling so fervently in our hearts. Our auras swirled and mixed and caressed each other until we were able to gather our bearings. We embraced and mourned for just a silent moment of reprieve. It's funny how the littlest things at the right moments have the biggest effects.

"So you think we will come across any down here?" questioned Talith with a tint of mockery but sincere interest. "You know, the mossfolk."

Geltor's face hardened. "Only if they want us to see them."

There came an earthly growling deep from within the caves that cut our conversation off. We were brought fully back to the reality of the situation we were in. We ventured further into the darkness, tired, hot and hungry. I eyed the walls and I felt watched. A thick cold wandered in with a lonely whisper. Even the bugs kept away from these walls and floors at this point. We walked in ominous silence for what felt like over an hour, listening to the occasional dripping from the ceiling and grumbling of gasses in the distance. Being the only sounds keeping us rooted in sanity, ghastly as they were, we welcomed them.

Finally, after a haunting downward hike through the dark swirling cavern, we came to a natural archway. Beyond, and nearly 50 meters high, was a spherical chamber. This void in the rock had tunnels branching out in many locations. They came out of the walls at different angles with different smells. The chamber was damp, with tufts of mosswood bundled up here and there along the muddy floors and rocky walls. The glimmer of sediments and crystals lit up the ceiling like constellations flickering in and out of existence in blues and purples. There were heavy, low gurgling sounds coming from the two tunnels to the south as if the earth was speaking to itself or digesting its favorite meal. It felt like we could be next if we took that route. They were more dried out and barren than the rest of the openings as if something had sucked up any possibility of life that dare venture there. We all quickly moved on from those exits and kept searching the room. There were giant plating's of stone and metal littering the open space. Each plate was the size of an average adult's wingspan and several inches thick. It seemed to be signifying either shedding and growth or the death and decay of bullet husks. There were no bones and the plates still had live mosswood embedded in them, so death seemed less likely. In fact, the plating still felt rich in organic material, as if freshly littered.

"Holy shit those are incredible!" Talith jumped out of her skin to get over to the husk remains for examination, along with a few others. She slowly, delicately traced their outline with her hands. She removed a few tools and vials from her satchel and began picking at the remains and bottling them. Everyone left her to her studies and we examined the rest of the cavern as she examined the molted armor.

Off on the other side of the cavern in the open entrance to one of the eastern caves we could see a glimpse of light, barely perceivable, flashing in and out like the glimmer of a sun drowned in the ocean. Distinctly pale in its center but shifting to a sickly green near the edges, the light danced like an angler fish luring us to a lullabillic death. As I watched it, the world around me faded and I felt whispers lift the hair on my skin. The whispers started as nothing, gusts of wind. They slowly built into incoherent mumbles, searching for a vessel, searching for an eager ear. They toyed at the walls and at my feet. As the airy sounds manifested into words, they travelled up my legs and swirled around my body till they wrapped around my neck, reverberating out and back in. I looked around at what was nothing but a feeling. It was all darkness, but I could feel the constricting whispers still searching, slithering down my throat to my soul and judging me deeply. Getting what the whispers came for, they voided my body and burst into a mist, coalescing around my head and blinding me with that pale light. Finally, to my horror, the whispers found my ears.

"You stink of foul deeds and shame" Came a washed-out voice from the darkness.

"Did you hear that?" I shuddered, whispering to anyone that was still out there. Staring into the distance ahead there was nothing but that same pale light. Slowly, that blinding light began to fade into the familiar flood of headlamps smacking the blackness of the underground. I was trembling. My breath was shallow and hard to catch. Had it always been this cold? I could feel my breath ache deep in my lungs. The blinding light took hold once more as my head began to throb. I could smell deep metals and felt the familiar stream of crimson trail away from my nose.

Harder now than whispers. More potent "There is nothing left but rot in that cavity beneath your ribs"

"I-I-I diidn't know" came Hectors wailing voice. I followed the pain until my vision returned to see most of us locked in a trembling trance, heads tilted up with milky glowing eyes. He was so full of sorrow and anger. "It never felt like that" He fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably as my vision blurred back into the milky nether.

This bombardment on my senses felt in a way very similar to the Reaper and his hold. But this time it was like it was coming from me just as much as it was coming for me. There was an abstract judgement coursing through me as if invited by my own volition. Every word a strike at my deepest pains and torments. The thoughts of the lives lost to our research came to the surface. Suddenly I was there, standing on the cold sterile lab floors. I could see everyone so vividly, all of their deadened faces covered in spit and non-existent. I did this. The skies turned grey. I look up at the pillars of fire as we burned away our sins. I could taste the human ash that delicately fell from the sky. Through my bleeding nose I could still smell their crispy flesh. I turned away in shame just to find myself barefoot in the snow. I looked down at my tiny footprints I saw my breath burst out as I screamed for him. The Sir, who looked up at me and smiled as he was dragged away, went limp, then wooden, then sprouted strings that stretched beyond the clouds. The strings went taut till his head and limbs lifted into a little dance. That familiar smile slowly grew sharp and wide as his wooden body bobbled back and forth. His teeth by now were monstrous fangs as he began cursing me for killing him in between bouts of manic laughter. "My strings are yours, my strings are yours!" barked the Sir. I am the monster, aren't I? My body went limp as I gave out one final scream while everything darkened. There stood a lone marionette high up above and lit up in a deep hallway lined with books and manuscripts. It mumbled words I couldn't comprehend as it grew further and further away, disappearing all at once in a pale green snap.

I awoke to a blur of snapping fingers and familiar voices muted by ringing. The last shades of my darkened memories were swept away. Talith was on top of me, shaking me by my collar and snapping at my ears. I cracked a weak smile to let her know I was alive, and she broke down and fell on top of me, relaxing in an embrace. I wrapped my arms around her and thanked her for saving me. She sat up enough to hold my head in her hands.

"I thought I lost you" she cried out, pulling my head up to her chest and hugging me tighter.

"Heh, I don't plan on killing myself just yet" came my muffled voice. I tried to get up, but she pushed my aching body back down. I obeyed and quickly drifted back asleep, hopefully from exhaustion this time.

____

"Keep moving, we have to be quick." came a man's voice beside my moving body. I was laying down but felt my knuckle dragging over the rocky floor. I must have been in some cart. I could barely open my eyes and if I did it was just blur all around.

"She's stable, for now, but some of the others are far from out of the woods." Came a woman's voice, accompanied by other strange and familiar voices I couldn't make out.

"Why did you do this, what will become of them?"

"Explanations later, but their sins are theirs to overcome. Nearly there, just beyond that geyser."

"And me?"

"Luck, mostly."

I could feel a cool air start breathing by and what could only be the sun beating down on me. I hadn't felt the surface in so long, and even blind and feeble, it felt great. If I wasn't crying, it felt like I was. The sweet smell of fresh blooming flowers was dancing with a burning musk in the air. I could hear the leaves dancing and critters cawing and cooing. There was a river sounding off in the distance and the chatter of people grew and then faded and then grew again. My knuckles were now wet with what felt like the dew of grass in the morning. I drifted back off, happy to have not dreamt of any horrors, not sure if I was dreaming now.