"The Fob of the Abundant Maker's Timepiece" -Part III-
Chapter 40
Hoku stepped forward and drew his attention back toward the oxidized jawbone embedded in the lintel stone.
Under the lamplight, the copper surface glinted like a grin.
"Well, I don't know how you want to start gathering the rest," he murmured. "But this looks like a fair beginning."
"Wait," said Mars firmly.
He moved past Hoku, his shadow twisting in the flickering flame as he crouched low.
He tilted the lantern, allowing the light to crawl sideways across the wall.
Rust and soot shifted. The surface, at first glance unremarkable, seemed to consume the light.
Hoku's fingers lingered midair, stilled.
He watched Mars carefully as he pressed his thumb gently against the stone, and rubbed back and forth.
His touch wasn't analytical; it was reverent and almost tender, like one reading Braille on a tomb.
"There's a pattern beneath the skin," he said quietly. "It appears that something was ground here repeatedly."
As he traced downward, the rhythm of his movements veered as his knuckles met a depression that extended into the ground.
Without prompting, he handed Hoku the lantern.
Mars lowered further, brushing away the dirt with steady, almost meditative care.
Each sweep of his hand breathed more shape into the ground as additional curves revealed themselves.
It was not a single line, but three distinct grooves, each one dipping from the wall into the surface, then vanishing before beginning again a pace away.
The pattern bore no semblance of symmetry.
It resembled a lingering residue, as if something weighty had traversed this space repeatedly.
Hoku knelt beside him, and furrowed his brows.
The silence between them was no longer void; it was dense, imbued with the sensation of patient anticipation.
Mars's fingers brushed against the deeper edge of an impression, discovering a trough whose lip concluded in a softened notch.
"Someone attempted to conceal it," he whispered.
He paced slowly between the three depressions, holding the lantern low, as if wary of disturbing the air.
"This place wasn't designed to open easily," he said. "It was constructed to withstand any attempt to breach it."
Hoku frowned. "Open what? How could anything be opened here?"
Mars gestured toward the sockets. "Two forces press down to stabilize a system. But a third must challenge them, to bend the threshold without breaking it. Without that contradiction, the altar remains dormant."
He knelt at the central groove, brushing away more dust until a faint engraving emerged on the stone floor.
A weathered symbol revealed itself beneath the debris. It resembled a convergence of crescents and spires forming a symmetrical, downward-pointing thorn.
At its center lay a sharp, four-pronged flare, akin to a star caught mid-burst.
Fine, hair-thin etchings branched outward from the center like veins or fractures, subtly converging toward the middle where the Roman numeral III was inscribed.
"This symbol… it reminds me of the one on the foundation from the first passage, but for some reason, it appears more intricate."
Hoku contemplated the symbol's complexity, pondering whether it signified the intricacies of subsequent passages or perhaps represented a design of order, akin to an eclipse, where deeper traversal unveiled transformative meanings.
Mars, however, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the symbol, silently refuting Hoku's speculations.
"This isn't merely the location of the ritual site," he finally said. "The symbol behind the passage numeral functions as a containment locus. It's designed to imprison or summon through strain. Such constructions test whether the approaching individual comprehends tension."
Hoku turned to him slowly. "Tension between what?"
Mars spoke in a lulled manner. "Between force and restraint. That symbol... It's an ancient seal from an occult system known as the Seraphis Divinations. They can be cast through various methods: inscription, spoken word, or even as a collection of cards. However, they've been unseen for ages."
Hoku's expression grew slightly placid. 'Seraphis Divinations...? I recall Oliverou mentioning them. Perhaps it's best to wait before bringing it up.'
"So, the ritual site wasn't directly sabotaged. This symbol interferes by preventing the entity we're meant to summon from cooperating?" he inquired.
"Not exactly. The ritual site serves as a model; it doesn't physically contain the Nymareth but replicates the conditions necessary for its summoning." Mars stood up and brushed off his pants.
"The symbol likely disrupts the ritual site directly, forming a barrier between the sacred Nymareth and this location. However, during the ejection phase, after we've set everything, we might bypass any alterations by meticulously distinguishing the original from the anomaly."
He turned back to the three indentations.
"Two anchors," Mars continued, gesturing toward the sockets, "and one strain," he said, dragging his point back to the symbol.
"Together, they reconstruct the framework of a three-way balance system," Mars noted. "However, I'm certain that the third wasn't made to restore the original attributes. Rather, it was to impose a new order. Only by engaging with the alteration can it be undone. A divination seal, once cast, is singular in its purpose."
Hoku inquired for confirmation. "So, to rectify the sabotage that has disrupted the ritual site, we must replicate its bindings?"
"En," Mars affirmed. "We must activate it anew, ensuring it is established and incapable of interfering with the ritual."
He reached beneath a pile of debris, retrieving a small stone. It bore a striking resemblance to the larger one they had encountered on the pedestal before their descent.
"This is a fragment of the archivist's reading stone," he noted. "In some instances, tampering with a ritual site doesn't merely disarm it; it can entirely alter the ritual's conditions."
Hoku pondered this, his thoughts aligning with his earlier inquiries. "So, if the site has been compromised, we must proceed in an unintended manner?"
"Yes," Mars responded. "And we must do so with exacting precision, matching the original ritual's parameters. Any deviation..."
The lantern flickered, casting dancing shadows across the tunnel.
"...could trigger the trap in isolation, summoning only calamity."
Mars remained crouched before the sockets, his thumb pressed against the edge of the triangular groove.
Hoku tilted his head, curiosity evident in his eyes. "How are we to activate both the seal and the ritual simultaneously?"
Mars gestured to the two outer impressions. "These likely belong to the original ritual site, their symmetry suggesting as much." He then pointed to the central indentation, positioned slightly ahead. "But this one... it lacks a base or depth. It wasn't crafted for any specific purpose. Whoever created it intended to render the construction seemingly impossible to complete."
Mars' explanations flowed impeccably.
It was peculiar; despite his earlier claim of fragmented memories, his observations were lucid.
He seemed to be guided by an instinctual recognition, as his words painted images that were drawn from the recesses of familiarity.
It was as though he navigated the unknown with the certainty of one who was truly retracing their steps in a long-deserted dream.
"I assume that the adjacent component was designed to mimic the original, so that it would deceive us into accepting it as part of the ritual. In reality, it serves as a diversion. The sabotage becomes the true focal point and will require activation using an element that would be used in the original ritual. That is how we proceed simultaneously. The only issue left is my ignorance of the original ritual's requirements."
Hoku's thoughts had become a tempest of revelations that clashed within his mind and vyed for prominence in the limited span of moments.
"Regarding the channels," Hoku ventured, visually tracing the conduits leading into the sockets, "maybe they're intended to house something? An insert of sorts?" His gaze shifted to the black stone cradled in Mars' hand.
Mars' fingers moved over the stone's surface, noting the fine striations that marred its otherwise smooth facade.
"This stone doesn't appear to fit any of the sockets. Yet, it's unlike any ordinary stone. These odd markings resemble the one you had me examine earlier."
Mars adjusted the lantern so that it illuminated the stone.
"You're correct," he acknowledged. "But, it might be another layer of obfuscation, like the random bones. Maybe these elements were also crafted to mislead us by simulating a conventional ritual."
As the lantern's flame flickered in Hoku's eyes, his subconscious was suddenly ignited with intuition.
"?"
"Hold the lantern steady," Hoku murmured, his voice carrying an undercurrent of unease.
Mars complied, the lantern's glow casting intricate shadows that danced across the ornate patterns adorning its frame.
Hoku stepped closer, his fingers lightly tracing the lantern's surface.
His touch paused at a subtle indentation near the base, which felt like a groove that seemed incongruous with the rest of the design.
"There's a pattern here," he whispered.
Mars leaned in and narrowed his eyes to examine the spot.
"It resembles a socket," he observed with surprise.
He pressed his fingertips along the side, then lifted the lantern overhead to inspect its underside.
His eyes widened upon noticing faint tool marks,
'Evidence of tampering…' Mars quietly acknowledged.
"This wasn't crafted this way," he murmured. "The base must've been forcibly removed from a larger structure."
Hoku's brow furrowed. "The lantern belonged to part of another object?"
In the following seconds, their veil of naivety was slightly lifted, revealing a stark reality.
"I suppose the sockets weren't meant to house something within," Hoku speculated, "but to align with something external."
Mars scrunched his features. "That man intended to trap us here by hiding the truth in plain sight."
Then, he sighed before moving swiftly to the central groove on the floor.
"Had you not noticed, we might have remained oblivious. How did you catch such a subtle detail?"
Hoku hesitated, uncertain how to explain the instinct that had guided him.
"I suppose my eyes are keener than I've let on," he replied.
Mars chuckled, then carefully aligned the lantern's base with the central depression.
It didn't march up perfectly, but neither did it resist the placement.
The moment Mars withdrew his hands, a subtle, yet unmistakable tremor coursed beneath their feet.
Hoku exhaled slowly.
Though they had seemingly uncovered a crucial element, a question lingered: Had the lantern manifested behind any door they might have chosen, or was it exclusive to this central path? The notion that their progress hinged upon this specific choice unsettled him.
The lantern's placement lacked an overt purpose; its sudden appearance offered no clear explanation other than to serve as an aid.
Such calculated ambiguity was rarely without intent.
In Mars' experience, when something appeared too precise to be accidental, it often concealed a deeper design.
The two men remained motionless.
The flame within the lantern merely continued to flicker... but, for Hoku, there was no fluttering sound accompanying it.
Despite their quietude, even the sound of their own breathing had vanished.
When Hoku turned his head toward Mars, he observed in his peripheral vision that Mars' lips were moving.
However, he heard nothing.
'This is happening again?'
Hoku, growing swiftly alarmed, attempted to warn, "Mars, I can't—"
But Mars raised a hand and placed a finger to his lips in a gesture for silence.
Then, lowering his hand, he pointed toward the ground, directing both their gazes to the lantern's flame, which had begun to thin and draw inward rather than rise, as if siphoned by an invisible pressure.
The light within dimmed to a pinprick, flickered, and then abruptly flared.
Mars stepped back.
Both men noticed hairline cracks threading across the glass panes.
'It doesn't seem like it's reacting from the heat—the interior doesn't even show signs of blackening. Could there be some form of stress?' Hoku couldn't avoid feeling more perplexed by the phenomenon.
Even more, the pressure was being exerted uniformly from all sides.
Though the lantern's glass had yet to shatter, Hoku now perceived the flame within clearly.
It did not sway nor stand still; instead, it appeared to be tugged from opposing sides, as if attempting to divide itself.
Uncertain whether his senses deceived him, Hoku reached into his coat pocket and retrieved the compass he had stowed after Mars handed him the lantern.
Upon opening it, he observed the needle spinning rapidly, deviating from its usual path.
His demeanor gradually began to exhibit more stress over his uncertainty about what was to come.
'It's spinning faster now,' he thought, holding it level. But I haven't felt lost; I've followed Mars's lead.'
He swallowed, regaining his composure.
As he relaxed his posture, his gaze fell upon the hilt of his sword, where he noticed that the digits looming over were changing so erratically that they blurred into near indecipherability.
A new query began to shroud Hoku's mind, taking over the clarity he had tried to force.
'Could it be that the compass isn't solely reacting to my mental state this time? '
He recalled a similar occurrence during his confrontation with Oliverou, when the numbers behaved likewise as Oliverou switched positions with "Fleur," altering the battlefield's fate.
Tension returned to his jaw, not from dread, but from the effort of connecting disparate threads. 'This could be related to that event, and something is shifting beyond my perception. The compass might be responding to the rapid changes in the tunnels, just as it did after our initial entry.'
His eyes widened with urgent concern.
To be continued…