Chapter 31

They entered through a rent in the wall, a tear that had spilled blocks of stone larger than wheelbarrows across the hallway within. The air was still, as if the ancient Academy were holding its breath, and great shafts of First Bronze light sluiced in through cracks high above, illuminating the buckled flagstones and the huge columns that stood like adumbrated giants within the gloom.

“Feels different,” whispered Leonis, turning in a circle as he went, gazing about with avid interest.

“Shocking observation,” said Lianshi from behind Scorio.

“No—I mean, the whole place, the atmosphere. The Academy proper feels alive, but this… this place feels drained. A husk. You feel it?”

And Scorio did. The ubiquitous gray of the ruins was present, of course, the walls cracked, the floor covered in detritus and large flakes of stone—but there was a sense of it being a cadaver, of walking through the bones of a giant long dead.

“Do you think the new Academy has the same floorplan as this old one?” asked Scorio as they drifted across the hall, careful not to dislodge any rocks or make noise.

“If so,” whispered Leonis, “then we’d be in the northern part. The domes at least looked the same, if larger.”

“Do we have a goal?” asked Lianshi, glancing into the rooms and narrowing her eyes over and over again. Belatedly, Scorio realized that she was summoning her darkvision as she peered into the gloomier corners.

“Let’s go to the lockers,” said Scorio. “Maybe there’s something left in our old ones worth revisiting.”

“Good idea,” said Leonis. “The main basilica would be directly ahead, if so. Follow me.”

The air was rich with Coal mana, but it was unsettled, swirling as if in a draft through the great rooms, the broad hallways, and up from the half-collapsed basements. Several times they were forced to turn back when either the flooring became too precarious, or they entered an area that was completely caved in.

They weren’t alone; crab-like creatures the size of Scorio’s fist scuttled away, hiding quickly whenever they entered sunlit rooms; great ferns grew from the naked rock, their delicate fronds waving gently back and forth as they drank of the mana streams. They backed out carefully of one chamber in whose depth a great, hissing serpent coiled, and Scorio never quite shook the feeling that they were being followed.

But by dint of sheer determination, they made their way deeper into the complex, igniting their Hearts when they had to leap over broader cervices or deploying the bridge when they came across completely sunken rooms. The interior of the old Academy didn’t map perfectly to the new one, but near enough that Leonis and Lianshi were able to guide Scorio ever onward, commenting quietly to each other how eerily similar certain segments were, pondering what new rooms could have been, arguing quietly about the value in trying to visit the vaults and off-limit areas that aroused their curiosity so back home.

Scorio remained quiet, testing the quality of the mana carefully as he went. He’d hoped for areas saturated in Copper or Iron, but found nothing but the endlessly flowing Coal, too insubstantial to nurture a large colony of mana feeders, too thin to even warrant coming here to train.

The Academy was barren, devoid of any signs of habitation, and only rarely did they come across scraps hanging from walls which might once have been tapestries or faded and badly worn murals, depicting indistinct heroes from that bygone era. Occasionally they stumbled across badly rusted metal fragments trapped under rocks, or the rare piece of wooden furniture that would collapse into dust and fragments if they touched it.

The cumulative effect was one of melancholy; the farther they walked, the more Scorio wondered if this wasn’t the future that awaited all of Bastion. Ten years, supposedly. That was all they had before every ward and even the new Academy became haunted copies of this desolation.

“Up ahead,” whispered Leonis. “The Aureate Hall. It opens to the basilica.”

They emerged from the narrow side corridor into the hall proper, and if Scorio squinted he thought he could recapture some faint echo of its former grandeur. The brilliant yellow light of Amber now poured in through the cracks in the ceiling high above, causing the floating motes of dust to glitter, and desiccated trees that centuries past had tried to grow here stood in all their brittle glory, rising from the ruined stone floor, their branches marble white.

“So eerie,” said Lianshi softly, turning in a circle to take in the large hall’s ruined splendor. “If I squint, I can almost see it… I wonder why they copied the layout so slavishly?”

“Must have meant something to them,” said Leonis, sandals crunching on the stone fragments. “But the double doors are there. Let’s take a look at the basilica proper.”

“What’s that?” asked Scorio, staring at a huge mosaic that dominated one wall. It was greatly faded, pocked with fallen stones, but the art was still striking; a tree dominated the center, its trunk banded by different materials, with fiends and heroes gathered around it.

“That’s the Path of Ascension,” said Leonis. “That’s right. You’ve not seen the one we have in our Academy.”

Scorio drew closer, drawn by the majesty of the mosaic. “Path of Ascension…” Half of the tree was its root system; these wound and coiled beneath the trunk like huge snakes, with the lowest tips gleaming jet black, then the band above a reddish-brown metal⁠—

“Those are the ranks we ascend through,” he blurted out.

“He’s a quick one, he is,” said Leonis in amusement.

“Coal, then Copper…” Scorio traced the bands of colors as they rose up the roots. “Iron, then… is that Bronze? Silver, Gold…”

Lianshi stepped up beside him to gaze at the tree. “It’s the path we all follow. We start as Chars, lowest of the low, but then ignite our Hearts and become Cinders, leaving Coal for Copper. Then, as Emberlings, we burn Iron, only to move on and become Tomb Sparks and burn Bronze. Flame Vaults burn Silver, and finally Dread Blazes who burn Gold.”

Scorio drank in the sight. “Char to Cinder, Emberling to Tomb Spark, Dread Blaze to… Pyre Lord?”

“Pyre Lord,” confirmed Leonis, moving up on his other side. The base of the trunk that corresponded to that rank was a glittering green gemstone. “Sapphire. That’s where ol’ Praximar’s at. You can’t get higher and remain in Bastion.”

“Then what?” Scorio’s gaze rose higher to the sapphire band.

“Blood Baron.” Lianshi’s voice was hushed. “Few get so far. Above them are the Charnel Dukes like the White Queen with their Ruby mana.”

Scorio’s gaze rose higher, to the branches of the tree which glittered even now with glass-like beauty. “Is that Diamond?”

“Diamond,” confirmed Lianshi. “For the Crimson Earls. And the leaves—see those hundreds of grooves? They’re empty because Noumenon is too precious to waste on a mosaic like this. The final and most potent form of mana, found only at the Pit of hell itself.”

“Imperators.” Leonis’s voice had become grim. “Only been seventy-six of them in the whole history of Bastion.”

“Huh.” Scorio stepped back and took in the whole tree at once. “From Coal to Noumenon. Why is everyone up to Dread Blaze merely the roots?”

Lianshi’s tone turned wry. “Because supposedly it’s only once you ascend to Pyre Lord that your true journey begins. Everything before that is just preparation.”

Scorio wheeled to stare at her. “Preparation? Even Dread Blaze?”

She shrugged apologetically. “That’s when we Great Souls start developing our true powers. Shrouds, Ferulas, and such-like. We’ve not yet covered that material in class.”

“But I can’t wait to get mine,” rumbled Leonis. “Speaking of which, we done admiring the artwork? I thought we came here to find treasure.”

“Sure,” said Scorio, following after him toward the huge double doors. He looked back at the tree. His gaze lingered on the Coal-black tips of the roots and the copper band just above. The knowledge of how far he had to go was both dizzying and dismaying. “Let’s get to exploring.”

The trio crossed the massive hall, footsteps echoing with each brittle crunch, until at last, they reached the giant-sized doors. One lay askew on its hinges, as if wearied by the centuries and trying to catch its breath. Through that gap they stepped, and into the vast basilica, the huge dome floating so improbably overhead, the light of Amber pouring in through the forty or so narrow rectangular windows that encircled its base. Other tall windows punched into the massive walls along the flanks provided further illumination, but the room was so cavernous that even this light failed to dispel the twilight feel of the chamber.

“Look,” said Lianshi, reaching out to grab hold of Scorio’s arm. “The biers.”

Scorio saw them, hundreds arranged around a ruined Archspire, their surfaces resplendent as if they alone had been untouched by the ravages of time. Many were toppled over, a good many crushed by the collapse of the upper half of the Archspire or the falling of huge stone blocks from overhead, but here and there, he saw some that remained pristine, gleaming with mesmerizing allure.

“What is that?” hissed Leonis, raising a finger to point at a great web that was stretched across a quarter of the huge chamber, each strand as thick as Scorio’s wrist. The light of Amber caused a few segments to glow as if the strands were made of glass hidden under centuries of dust.

“Whatever made it is long gone,” said Lianshi after a tense spell of silence. “No spider or whatever made it would let their web fall into such disarray.”

Scorio released a sigh. “I’d hate to have arrived here a century ago when the spider was still in residence.”

“With a web that big?” Leonis let the question hang as he pressed on. “Hey, look. No dust on the undamaged biers.”

He was right. All those which had been damaged or crushed were faded and dilapidated like the rest of the buildings, but those which had miraculously survived the test of time shone as if recently wiped down.

“What does that mean?” asked Lianshi, trailing her fingers over one. “Perhaps they still collect ambient mana in some way?”

They approached the Archspire, and as they drew closer Scorio caught sight of the upturned and in-curled legs of the web’s owner on the far side of the basilica beneath its web.

He froze, eyes widening at the size of it. Each leg had to be six or more yards long, and though the biers blocked his view of the body, he could only imagine how big it must have been.

The other two saw the dead fiend a moment later, or at least, its legs, and froze as well before they all relaxed.

“I wonder what it used to catch,” whispered Lianshi, glancing about. “I wonder if it died because its prey stopped coming, or if it was killed by something worse.”

“Bad questions,” said Leonis. “Let’s just revel in our ignorance till we’re forced to deal with the answers.”

Scorio looked up at the balconies and narrowed his gaze. The dark recesses defied his normal vision, but a patch lightened, outlines appearing that revealed coffers ranged across the walls. They looked more ornate than the ones he’d seen, but there was no mistaking them.

“Strange to think we were reborn here, ages ago,” said Lianshi, hugging herself. “That once this was full of life, and we sat up on these very biers after going through the Gauntlet. I wonder if mine is still here…”

And she slipped away between them, till she reached the very base of the ruined Archspire.

“Here,” she whispered loudly. “I think this one’s mine.”

Scorio approached and stared at the bier beside her. His was crushed, cleaved nearly in half by a fallen spar. “So much for mine.”

“Doesn’t really matter,” said Leonis. “The coffers are keyed to us, but not the biers.”

Scorio frowned at him. “So any bier works?”

He shrugged. “Supposedly you always arise from the same tomb from within the Gauntlet, but how you get there doesn’t matter. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.”

Scorio walked slowly around Lianshi’s. Fingers traced the golden edges, the pebbled blue stones. “And how does it work? How do you go back to the Gauntlet when you’re not dead?”

Leonis frowned. “What are you thinking?”

Lianshi’s eyes widened. “You think we could?”

Scorio kept his eyes on the jeweled surface before him, clean and resplendent. “Might do.”

“You activate the jewel at the base with mana,” said Leonis slowly, as if hesitating to reveal the information. “Then lie on it. It’s supposed to be simple.”

Scorio stopped and looked at the pair of them over the top of the bier. “Why aren’t you allowed to visit the Gauntlet whenever you want?”

“Because it’s an exam,” said Leonis, his frown deepening. “It’s meant to measure your progress.”

“But we’ve all been told the best way to progress is to fight for our lives, right?” Scorio raised an eyebrow. “And the Gauntlet allows us to simulate that. Why not use it whenever we want?”

“I…” Leonis trailed off, turned to Lianshi. “You answer him.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Well.” Scorio placed his palm flat on the bier. “I came here looking for treasures, or some Iron mana. But if this works…”

His words hung in the air.

Lianshi bit her lower lip, then glanced up at the ruined Archspire. “What if some aspect of it is broken? What if it doesn’t send us to the Gauntlet, or we don’t return when we die?”

Scorio shrugged. “Good questions.”

“What if they can tell we’ve accessed it?” asked Leonis. “When we awoke, they had detailed records of our entering. What if our entry registers and they call us on it?”

“Did anyone forbid you from accessing the Gauntlet through these forgotten biers?”

To which Leonis merely frowned, clearly not deigning to answer the question.

“I’ll go first,” said Scorio. “If they see me appear on any records, what will they do? Send out search parties to scour the ruins?”

“Scorio, wait.” Lianshi was clearly searching for an objection. “You’re taking an incredible risk. We don’t know if this works, or if you’ll return. This isn’t worth it.”

“Not to you, perhaps.” Scorio stepped to the foot of the bier and placed his hand over the large, dull crystal. “But to me? You’d better believe it’s worth it.”

They both stared at him helplessly as he drew on the ambient Coal mana, swirled it about himself twice, and then infused it into the crystal.

It flickered, blue lightning dancing within the gem, then lit to fitful life.

A second later the sides of the bier began to burn with that pure blue light.

Scorio climbed up and stretched himself out.

“Scorio,” protested Lianshi.

“He’s made up his mind,” said Leonis grimly. “We’ll wait for you. Good luck.”

“Thank you,” he said, but already he felt himself sinking, darkness swimming over him, stealing his vision.

The pebbled surface of gems and precious stones grew soft under his back, and he felt himself begin to fall, sinking into an enveloping darkness.

“Good luck!” he heard Lianshi cry, then her words were stolen by the void, and he was gone.