He hadn't slept until she had awoken. He wouldn't exactly say he was fearful that Ruffliette was a monster, but he knew about the efficacy of dreams. He knew how brutal and how real they could be.
So he watched her. Watched each pattern of her breath, how her chest moved up and down, how her face blushed as the breeze rolled past, how the hue of her hair…
I need to kill myself. Artemis chided as he rubbed his hands against his face, the fatigue collecting underneath his eyelids.
"Maester Artemis…?"
Her eyes fluttered open slowly, taking in the bare light of the dwindling flames as she glanced around. She spotted Artemis, who looked at her with an unusually grim look, causing her to sit up straight almost immediately.
"What's wrong, Maester?"
He shook his head. "Nothing's wrong… I'm just… tired."
She tilted her head in confusion, suddenly noticing the way that shadows had collected under his eyelids. "Did you stay awake while I was sleeping?"
"No, not at all… I just woke up like this…"
He glanced away nervously, smiling.
I am... not afraid...
[+++]
A few days slowly passed within the ruined hall before Ruffliette had judged the light to be of a safe distance away to proceed.
In that time, they had stayed ever-vigilant, fearful of the things that lurked in the night. Leaving the ruined hall behind, they no longer had the safety of shelter in the night. It was quite possible that the thing from his dream might really be real, given his track-record, and so he was eternally cognisant that one night, Ruffliette might no longer be Ruffliette, or he might no longer be himself.
A titanic wall stretched high above them, connecting parts of the ruined Palace ahead to a larger spire, which contained the lighthouse that held the radiant light he had seen once before.
As long as they traveled this path, they would eventually make it to that place of horrors, to the heart of that city he had seen in his dreams.
They passed the time by conversing. Of trivial things at first, but as their favourite colours were known, their favourite foods and hobbies were revealed, they had to move onto deeper subject matters to keep themselves sated.
"Why do you stay with me? Artemis suddenly asked Ruffliette.
"Are you asking what our bond is? Don't you imagine it's survival?"
"You could survive well enough without me." Artemis noted. "Your skills, your knowledge, they're impeccable."
"And you without me. So isn't it something more? We only exchanged names, I told you nothing about me, you know nothing about me. And yet, we're together like this, living like this, surviving like this. Like companions… why?"
Artemis felt his face grow hot.
Of course, the thought ran through his mind that he was accompanying her because he thought she was beautiful. But time and time again, he had to remind himself that it was far more than that.
"Do you imagine we're scared?"
"Of what?" She asked in response. She seemed quite intrigued by the theory.
"Of being alone. Of going about this method of survival without anyone to reiterate that we remain alive. We might eat, sleep, and continue on down this path, but if there is no one else there, how can we confirm that we are truly who we are? We can look at our reflection, at who we think ourselves to be, but what if that was never the case at all?"
He paused for a moment, looking out towards the ruined city as he smiled bitterly.
"In solitude, you change. In company, you remain."
"It's a nice sentiment, but I think you can change, even in company. Sometimes, two people can forget who they are quite easily." She echoed.
She was often alone in the city. He had spent two years alone. Of course they crave company. But maybe they had both already been alone too long to reclaim themselves. Artemis himself was already afraid that being a recluse had ruined him, even if it had been a necessity to keep the Daemonic Spirit concealed.
If he even managed to return… how could he possibly reintegrate into the life of the Palace?
He was afraid that no one, even August, could accept him as he was.
Looking at Ruffliette, he wondered if the way he looked at her resembled that fear. That only people who had been touched by ruin could remain close to each other.
She tugged at his sleeve, signalling towards the road ahead.
"This place… I call it 'the Gale'. I don't know why it's here, but I know it encroaches on the city. It destroys it, only by existing. I'm sure that whoever built the Palace wasn't stupid enough to build it over such a torrential abyss, so the Palace must predate it."
She pointed down along one of the cliff-faces, towards a set of Palace ruins that had been torn in two. A large tower had fallen off of the grand wall at the edge of the City, now suspended above the Gale in a perfect state, unperturbed by its falling. It was pristine and whole, yet toppled.
"That part of the city, the one that the Gale destroyed, we have to go there. In the Palace, there are very- very… powerful beings. If you wish to go home…" she hesitated for a moment, as if contemplating how to word what she was about to say. "If- if you want to go home… then conquering those beings might be a way… to demand your return."
He looked at her with an expression of curiosity.
Grand beings? How grand can a monster be, in this city of horrors? Is it something like I saw in my dream, or something even more powerful? What then? A Deific sort of being?
A shiver ran down his spine.
What if it really was a sort of God that Ruffliette was speaking of? He knew better than to ask, to taint his hope for survival with an inalienable truth, that he might really have to fight against such a terrifying foe.
But the thought remained.
What if he really had to face surmountable odds? Lark had said as much… that if he really wished to return, he would have to have the grace of a Deity on his side…
But the Blackbaast knew no Deities. They had all died long ago. At least, that was what all the history books had spoken of. Gods who had only served the purpose of creation, of manifestation, before meeting their demise, no longer serving a purpose in the waking world.
But Shadowhaunt was not in the continent he had grown up in.
So was it possible that there were others? Gods who had survived, who had found purpose in the creation of the mysterious city of shadows?
Was this 'Gale' a place that contained one of these mystical beings, perhaps this 'light' that remained a threat, even to his sight?
"The light is still here, isn't it?" He spoke to confirm his suspicion.
"The light… lives here, in the Gale. It doesn't have a particular routine, it might even come back here soon, so we have to stay aware."
"Otherwise, we'll become the ones caught in it." Artemis interjected, nodding his head.
But above that, Lark warned me not to even look at it. Why is it that Ruffliette was able to do so? Is it a warning that only extends to me, or are short glances permissible? Even if that's the case, that Ruffliette is special where I am not, I would rather not risk it in an attempt to find out…
The Gale was a grand monument of ruin in the center of the cityscape. It stretched deep down into the torrential abyss below the ruined city. A cavernous opening in the earth that bore all signs of terror, but also some semblance of tranquility that could only be matched by the visceral nature of living.
Stone swirled like a whirl-pool in a coruscating motion downwards along the side of the cliff-face, with titanic ivory branches jutting out from within, stretching deep into the center. It obfuscated the majority of the darkness, but peeking through, Artemis was able to gaze deep within. And all that he gathered was unease, this sense of anxiety that plagued him just from staring at it, like if he were to look any longer, it might swallow him whole and keep him prisoner in its depths.
A torrential breeze— almost strong enough to be visible to their eyes— swept in a circular motion along the edges of the Gale, tearing hail of silver leaves from the ivory branches, cascading through the air like rain as they sank into the deep abyss.
But the way that the starlight reflected off of these leaves, it was almost… divine. It wasn't just the stars that were reflected off of them, but something else, something far more brilliant, glimmering, captivating…
Nausea quickly overtook him as a preliminary theory entered his mind, causing him to immediately glance away from the falling leaves.
Wherever that light had gone, what if it didn't matter, even if it remained quite far away? As long as it had a surface to reflect off of, like the leaves, it could still be seen by him…
This Gale was a nightmare.
Artemis grimaced as they reached a crossroads in the path. One fork on the right led endlessly into the distant forest, and the other continued on into the city.
Etched onto a dilapidated wooden sign hung high above the road, scrawled into gaudy, swirling red text, there was a single sentence plastered onto its surface.
It read: "The most innocent light remembers."