The Last Light of Eden (Sky Children of the Light)

Chapter Eight: The Ruined Gates

     A biting wind howled through the valley, picking up grains of glass-like sand and flinging them up into swirling eddies. Once clear water, now dark and foul, lapped against the sandy shores before sliding back down the banks with a loud gurgle. Rising from the sickly green dunes that covered the wasteland were the gates, stone doors flung wide open to reveal only inky darkness beyond.

     Elder Sage sat silently as he stared up at the gaping doorway, his eyes sad and distant. He hadn't seen destruction such as this for many, many years. . . Not since. . . The elder shuddered and lowered his gaze from the looming gates before him. He didn't want to think about the last time something like this had happened.

     After a moment, the elder glanced back over his shoulder and gave a soft sigh. Below him, nestled between two sand dunes, the rundown campsite was bustling with nervous activity. A small group of spirits hurried between the mismatched tents, a tangled net full of crabs dragging along the ground behind them. Two spirits in muddy green capes silently sewed a large patch over a hole in a tents' roof, and a few of the younger spirits sat huddled beneath the ruins of a half buried building. Elder Sage paused as his eyes landed on Finn, the spirit child who had lead him through the wasteland yesterday.

     The young spirit was wandering aimlessly through the camp, a small, discolored ball clasped tightly in his blue hands. He paused for a moment, glancing around hopefully for someone to play with before finally giving up and disappearing into one of the tents.

     Elder Sage winced, sadness creeping across his face. He should have come sooner. . . He should have stopped this from happening. . . Slowly, he turned to look back at the gates, their giant forms casting looming shadows across the valley. But maybe. . . Maybe it wasn't too late to save these people. . . He carefully reached out and lifted his staff from where it sat in the dark sand beside him. Perhaps, if he could only make it to the Vault of Knowledge. . . The elder dragged himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the end of his staff. He lowered his head against the biting wind and stepped towards the ruined gates. 

     Piercing gales slashed at the elder's face, and the sand shifted around his feet, threatening to fall away and send him tumbling down the hillside at any moment, but finally, the gates crept up to greet him. The elder squinted into the doorway, but even up close he could see nothing but darkness stretching out ahead. He shuddered and shot one last look over his shoulder. The campsite had already slid out of sight, hidden behind the shifting sand dunes. Even the elder's footprints had been washed away by the harsh wind, leaving nothing but dust in their place. 

     Elder Sage turned back towards the inky gloom before him and sighed, the sound carried away by the cackling laughter of the wind. There was no going back, now. With nowhere left to go but forwards, the elder stepped beneath the towering doorway and pressed on into the shadows. 

     Instantly, the shriek of the wind and the angry hiss of the sand shifting across the barren wasteland faded to nothing more than background static. Another few steps and the sound was drowned out completely leaving only an ominous silence in its wake. Elder Sage squinted in the darkness, but could make out only vague shapes. He carefully lifted the bottom of his staff from the sand and held it out ahead of him. A faint white light shimmered to life at the staff's tip; a tiny star shining in the overwhelming darkness of night. 

     The elder blinked a few times, adjusting to the dim glow of his staff. He seemed to be standing in a tunnel. Greenish sand coated the floor and rested piled up against the stone walls, though it sat still and silent, untouched by the harsh gales outside.

     Elder Sage slowly turned in a half-circle, his light casting dancing shadows across the tunnel's stone-brick walls. As he turned, more of the deserted corridor became visible. Chunks of stone lay strewn across the sandy floor, some as small as pebbles and others towering far above the elder's head. A tattered banner lay fluttering on the ground, it's golden fabric tainted green in the dull light.

     Suddenly, the white glow shimmered, reflecting off something bronze. Elder Sage turned, lifting his staff above his head to cast a wider circle of light. There was nothing there. . . But the elder had the distinct feeling that someone was watching him. . . Someone just outside the ring of light. He shuddered and hurried onward.

     The further he went, the more the tunnel seemed to slope upwards. In some places, stone steps were visible through the mounds of sand that littered the floor, though most of them were chipped and broken.

     Finally, as he crested the top of the staircase, Elder Sage stepped out of the tunnel and onto a stone balcony. Slowly, his eyes widened, the light fading from his staff as his concentration was lost. Stretching out before him were the crumbling ruins of a vast, destroyed chamber. The remains of a bridge that had once run down the center of the massive room now lay half submerged in a pool of black, oily water that had flooded the floor down below. In some places, jagged chunks of stone rose from the dark liquid, emerging from the shadows like the fangs of some massive beast. The elder glanced up, lowering his staff to his side. He no longer needed its light. Right in the center of the room, the roof had collapsed inwards allowing a sickly green glow to creep inside.

     Elder Sage took a cautious step forwards, glancing down over the edge of the balcony. Not too far away, rising from the dark pool was a small island of damp sand. He paused for a moment, glancing back the way he had come. Finally, he sighed and shook his head, securing his staff over his shoulder.

     "I'm getting too old for this. . ." the elder muttered as he leaned down, catching the jagged edge of the balcony in both hands. He carefully lowered himself down over the edge and landed in the dark water with a loud splash. The murky water rippled around him as he sank in up to his knees. The elder shot one last glance around the empty room then hurriedly waded towards the tiny island he had seen from the balcony. He shivered as he slid out of the murky water, wrapping his cloak further around himself. With an exhausted sigh, the elder leaned his shoulder against a pillar of stone and stared down at the shadows that painted the sandy ground, pausing to catch his breath. It took him a moment to notice that there was something off about one of the shadows. . . Something not quite right. . . Was it. . . Moving?

     The elder's eyes widened in realization. He spun around, yanking his staff back from over his shoulder as he went.

     A few feet above the small island, sitting on the edge of the ruined balcony was a child, their features hidden by shadow. They slowly swung their legs backwards and forwards as they studied the elder from afar.

     Elder Sage narrowed his eyes, not lowering his staff. There was something wrong with this child. . . But also. . . Familiar? He strained his eyes in the dim green light, trying to catch a glimpse of their face, but the child stayed hidden by darkness. 

     "Who are you, young one?" the elder asked softly, steadying his breathing.

     The child fell still, tilting their head to the side. For a moment, their mask glinted bronze in the dim green light, then fell back into darkness. "Don't you recognize an old friend. . .?" they asked, their young voice surprisingly harsh. The child let out a soft, hissing breath then continued. "Though, I suppose that's how you elders work, isn't it, Sage? You protect these useless creatures. . . You pretend that you care. . . Then when they have nothing left to offer you, you're perfectly happy to let them die."

     Elder Sage took a startled step back, eyes widening in shock. He'd met this child before. . . He knew that voice from somewhere. . . Slowly, with shaking hands, the elder lifted his staff and let the faint white light shine back out from it's tip. He gave a strangled gasp as the child's face was illuminated.

     "Leon."