Sevensworn

XXV. Dead Language

Ronan returned to the table they'd agreed upon to find Shivaroth already there, perched oddly in one of the chairs, pouring over a massive volume written in Hjelohk. Ronan put his pile down without speaking, and sat a moment later.

Shivaroth glanced up at him, looking slightly disoriented.

"Did you find anything?"

"I picked up everything that I saw that looked promising." Ronan's heart was still beating uncomfortably fast. "I can't read most of these, though. They're written in languages I don't know. This one⁠—" Ronan pushed a book forward across the table, "I didn't even recognize. It probably isn't anything important, I was just curious about it."

Shivaroth balanced the book he was reading against his legs and reached forward, picking up the small book Ronan had provided. He flipped through a few pages, his brow furrowed.

"It is written in the First Language," he said after a moment. "Though my ability to read it is mediocre, from what I can gather you have found an account from a civilization likely dating back to before your people as you know them even existed." He nodded to one of the other books Ronan had brought back out of curiosity. "I have read that one. It is about Vehkra, and his brief stint as the Void Guardian. It details the process of a mortal becoming immortal, which has not happened since."

"I didn't know that was possible," Ronan said, his mind elsewhere.

"Not many do," Shivaroth said. "That is purposeful." The god set the book he had taken from Ronan back down carefully, nodding to the one he was reading. "This is The Book of Lamentation."

"Sounds cheerful." Ronan took the change of topic in stride.

"The author supposedly collected all prophecies spoken by the Church throughout his lifetime. So far many have been accurate, but I have not found the one I am looking for."

Ronan leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "And what are you looking for?"

"Something that I heard a very long time ago," Shivaroth murmured. "Or, no. Leta'Anvaroth would have heard it, but it is in my memory."

"What was it about?"

Looking slightly uncomfortable, Shivaroth shook his head. "I would prefer not to say until I know whether or not it is applicable. I do not want to alarm you."

"That in itself is a bit alarming, Shiva."

"I know. I apologize."

Ronan sighed, shaking his head. "It's alright." He bit his lip. "If there's anything in Old Adacian or Hjelohk, I can try to read it. I could take a bit of the work off of your shoulders."

"Oh." Shivaroth nodded resolutely. "Yes, of course." He examined his own pile of books, about the same amount that Ronan had found, and pushed a few across the table after a moment. "Those are a good place to start." He paused. "I apologize for being so distracted."

"No, it's alright. I understand. This wasn't meant to be a vacation, there's work we have to get done."

"Yes," the god said. "Though I may have preferred a moment to relax."

Ronan gave him a slight smile. "I know the feeling."

He picked up the book closest to him, simply titled Ancient Augury. His mind, still racing, protested the idea of reading when there was so much to think about. He pushed past his initial resistance and opened the book, desperate to pretend the word attai didn't exist for just a bit longer.

The book was brief; he read it from cover to cover within the hour. It contained small rhyming stanzas of prophecy, foretelling battles and births and deaths, but Ronan saw nothing about a prince with the ability to see the future. He put the book aside, and moved to the next.