The next morning we woke up to the tune of the horn signaling the shift of the guard. We both had a very good night’s sleep, considering the hell we had to endure the day before. Sleeping in comfortable beds after spending a week on the road probably helped too.

After a refreshing bath – I was so damned tired after the battle that I hit the bed still covered in dust and the blood of those damned monsters – we had a much nicer breakfast than in recent days.

While we were busy stuffing our gullets, The Vigil’s commander came and greeted us.

“We’ve exchanged your horses for two of our own, and we have restocked your saddlebags,” he informed us. “You’ll be able to ride for up to four more days before you reach the end of the road. I'm afraid you’ll have to continue on foot then.”

“Thank you for your assistance, Commander,” Shjasta smiled. “I’ll be praying to the Gods for your safety, and your men’s.”

“Please do, Your Highness,” the veteran soldier nodded. “If Anchlesia is behind that Waste-monster attack, I’m pretty sure they might send another wave very soon or, Gods forbid it, one of their Legions. I’ve already asked the City for reinforcements; I made sure to omit any mention of your presence here. Let’s hope that whoever is in charge now understands the gravity of our situation here.”

I snorted. “I hope that Asli has enough common sense to understand.”

“In any case, it’s time to continue with our journey,” Shjasta sentenced, extending her hand to beckon me. “Let’s go, Champion,” she smiled.

Just as the fortress commander said, our mounts were ready and stocked. Our rucksacks were also replenished with enough water and food to last up to a month and a half if we rationed it adequately. I helped Shjasta get on her horse before mounting mine, and the gate leading to the western side of the valley opened. As we spurred our mounts into a trot, the soldiers cheered us on and bowed before the Princess.

“Good luck, Your Highness,” the commander said. “May the Gods protect you and bring good fortune to your quest!”

“Gods preserve you all!” Shjasta said while waving her hand. “Farewell!”

Once we were outside the gates we brought our horses to a faster pace, short of a full gallop to avoid wasting them so soon.

The morning sun rose behind us as the tall walls and spires of The Vigil started to recede. The valley in front of us narrowed into a tortuous path snaking between tall cliffs and impassable mountains. Further ahead and above the rocky summits an overcast, ominous sky hinted to us of the dangers waiting for us.

We were literally rushing towards the Darkness. What the hell did I get myself into?

Fortunately, the next days were uneventful; we didn’t spot any Waste-monsters or Ravens... or any other living creature for that matter. Vegetation was very sparse, most of it withered, twisting tree trunks and short grasses; we managed to forage some edible cactus fruit, and there were watering holes scattered around, so our supplies would hold for a bit longer.

The twisting path followed a slightly northwestern direction. As we moved forward, the sky above us grew darker with heavy clouds. The sound of distant thunder broke the otherwise eerie silence haunting the cliffs. Even the rocks themselves started to lose their vibrant colors, turning a muddier, darker shade of red resembling dry blood. The horses grew restless with every step they took, and frankly so did us.

“No wonder they call this place the Wastes,” I said in an idle effort to break the deafening quiet. “Nothing lives in this shithole!”

“This land is cursed, Wraith,” Shjasta replied, her eyes focused on the path ahead. “Only monsters and the ghosts of a forgotten past dwell here.”

“It’s hard to believe that this land was once a great, thriving realm.” I sighed.

Shjasta nodded but didn’t talk further. We weren’t quite in the mood for conversation, even if for a brief reprieve from the maddening silence enveloping us.

By the time we finally reached the end of the road, the overcast sky was a deep shade of gray, and the air was cold and heavy. A huge, seemingly impassable wall of gray rock stood before us.

Shjasta said this was the outer edge of a massive crater, created by the cataclysmic event that ruined the ancient city of A'dar. Its circumference was thousands of miles long, A'dar sitting in its very center.

This was indeed the end of the road for the horses. We dismounted and took any usable items in the saddlebags before sending the animals back to The Vigil. They seemed to know their way back, and we hoped they didn’t become an easy meal for marauding Waste-monsters.

It took us the rest of that day to climb that fucking rock wall! It was almost vertical, especially at its final third, so it wasn’t a direct upward path as we looked for safe perches to latch upon.

Of special concern to me was that this might finally be too much for Shjasta and got a bad case of cold feet while hanging for dear life! She did stumble several times – lucky for her that I was around to catch her every time!

“How many times have you fallen to your death so far, Princess?” I chuckled.

“Well, sorry for being the very first time I climb a wall!” she protested.

Truth be told, I was damned impressed with Shjasta’s resolve. Despite her obvious lack of travel experience and the difficulty of the climb, she didn’t complain even once, her amber eyes glimmering with determination. When I first saw her in the Atrium all those moons ago, I quickly dismissed her as just another pretty face who had never endured any real hardships in her life and would eventually break under the heavy burden of ruling Ysle.

I’ve never been so wrong about anyone in my whole damned life! Turns out Shjasta did have her fair share of shitty moments; she witnessed the death of her father during the Anchlesian invasion, for one. She was thrown into the role of Princess by her fellow Priestesses, and despite lacking political experience, she did better than most fools entrusted with an ounce of power. She lived through a fucking coup! And not only she survived a stampede of angry monsters; she turned them into a pile of charred corpses, even though she insisted it was her Gods’ doing.

This Princess is tougher than everyone, even herself, believes. And I’ve come to greatly admire her in the short time we’ve been together... Pretty much the reason I decided to stick in this crazy Divine Quest of hers.

Once we reached the top of the crater wall, we were greeted by a hellish landscape.

The ground was a sickening ashen gray, its dusty surface scraped by a chilly, howling wind. There were some large rocky outcrops here and there, but other than that it was mostly flat. Not even a blade of grass grew in that desolation. The clouds grew darker and heavier further northwest, though brief flashes of lightning often pierced through them.

Shjasta shuddered, more from dread than from the cold.

“The ancient evil that laid this land to waste yet lingers,” she said. “Beyond this point, Waste-monsters will be the lesser of our concerns.”

“No shit!” I muttered. “Sure you want to carry on?”

The Princess stared at me with resolute eyes and nodded silently. “Thought so…” I sighed as we resumed our march.

True to her words, as we carried on we encountered all manners of weird shit besides Waste-monsters: walking corpses of man and beast alike, and even some Daemons straight out the damned Underchasm!

We did our best to avoid the greater threats, but more often than not we had to fight our way. Shjasta's magic was of great help, as she knew spells to turn the Undead and repel the Lesser Daemons, and her firebolts were quite effective against Waste-monsters. And as a trained Temple Healer, her mending spells were second to none.

As we ventured deeper into the Wastes, we started to spot ruined buildings and statues, made out of metal and crystal similar to the Prism's. Even in their tarnished, broken state, they still stood tall and magnificent; I wondered how resplendent they looked back in their prime.

“Guess the Earl’s Magus was right about the Prism after all!” I said while running my fingers over a dust-covered metal wall. “The similarity in style is undeniable, even for a layman like me.”

“If so, I can only wonder how such an artifact ended up in the hands of the Priestesshood…” Shjasta muttered, also busy examining the A’dari handiwork.

“How much do you know about these A’dari guys, anyway?” I asked.

As night was fast approaching, we decided to use one of the less battered buildings as a refuge. While I busied myself piling some wood to start a fire, the Princess talked, telling me everything she knew about the A’dari.

“A Magus could probably tell us a lot more about A’dar, as I’ve only studied what the Sacred Scriptures tell,” she said. “They were a great civilization once, the birthplace of Arcana as we understand it… or at least as the Magi of Evanor understand it. The Priestesshood teaches that the Gods are the One and Only Font of Power, and that Arcana is a foolhardy attempt by mortals to emulate Their Glory at best, and a sure path to ruin at worst.”

I arched my brows. “So you do believe that A’dar was destroyed by their desire for more power?”

“The Scriptures tell that some of the A’dari Arcanists, in their growing arrogance, desired to wrestle the secrets of immortality from the Gods,” Shjasta continued. “They used the Arcana to scry beyond the Veil that separates our World from the Immaterial Realm for answers, eventually consorting with the Void-lords of the Underchasm. The Dark Gods promised them not eternal life, but a way to cheat death through Necromancy. They also taught them how to summon Daemons into our World.”

“All of the A’dari Arcanists became Necromancers and Daemonologists?” I asked in disbelief.

“Not all of them, of course,” Shjasta shook her head. “Some of them were more judicious in their Arcana pursuits and deemed their corrupted peer’s new powers an abomination. They clashed with them, and a long, terrible war ensued, which ultimately led to A’dar’s ruin. At the height of the final battle, the Necromancers summoned the Shade of their Master. At this point the Gods intervened, unleashing Their Righteous Fury upon the land to prevent the never-ending hunger of the Void-lord from consuming the World.”

I cleared my throat. “If you ask me, I’d say that the battle turned really ugly, and the desperate A’dari cast a ridiculously powerful spell… Something similar to that Ignas Anima thing you did, but on a much greater scale,” I suggested.

“Perhaps we can discover the truth of what happened here,” she shrugged. “As far as we Priestesses know, no one seeking the lost A’dari capital has ever returned to tell the tale. All of the artifacts known to us have been found in abandoned A’dari outposts scattered all over Alnor, or in the less corrupted parts of the Wastes. We might very well be the first living souls setting foot in the ruined city in thousands of years!”

“Gee, I’m so fucking excited about that!” I remarked sarcastically.

Shjasta rolled her eyes. “I’d just settle for restoring the Prism and returning home before Asli consolidates her power.”

I nodded. “She might be already reaching out to the Ravens as we speak. She was very vocal about that.”

The Princess curled her lips in disgust. “I hope we can stop her in time. Speaking of Ravens… we haven’t seen any signs of their presence yet.”

“True. We might stumble upon them further ahead, though,” I reasoned.

I stoked the flames one last time before adding: “Thanks for the history lesson, Princess. With your permission, I’m gonna fix us some dinner now.”

I got up and reached for my rucksack when I heard strange noises coming from outside our refuge; faint, rhythmic thumps. It sounded like steps, but with clear metallic undertones.

I asked Shajsta to remain quiet while I approached the entryway as silently as I could, unsheathing my blade. She conjured a small fireball on her right palm. The metallic stepping sounds grew louder, and we even saw a shadow looming close to our refuge's doorstep. It looked roughly humanoid, its body covered in metal plating.

“By the sound and look of it, it’s a man clad in armor,” I spoke softly. “Might be a Raven.”

“Or an armor-wearing ghoul…” The Princess shrugged.

“Whatever it is, is getting closer… Get ready!”

As the thing got closer, I started to think it was neither. Not only its steps sounded metallic; the very movement of its joints produced faint whirring and clicking noises. Then it turned to walk towards the doorway, and the ground was lighted by a dim circle of bluish light. The thumping, whirring and clicks got louder as the entity got but a couple of steps from the threshold.

“On the count of three…” I whispered. “One… Two… Three!”

We jumped out in unison, yelling angrily as we readied to strike down the entity. Upon seeing us, it emitted what I could only describe as a loud mechanic whimper and receded in fear, losing its balance and falling backward.

“Nod nocerut Servios! Nod nocerut Servios!” The thing said in a highly metallic, but otherwise remarkably human voice, as it used its arms and legs to push itself away from us.

“What?” I replied, not understanding shit of what it said.

I raised my blade to strike the noisy thing down. It cowered in fear, raising its arms defensively and repeating the same nonsense over and over.

“Stop!” Shjasta yelled. “Don’t hurt it! This is no foe!”

I looked at the Princess in puzzlement. “How do you know that?”

She approached the trembling creature. “Nus nod nocerad ti,” she said with a calm, reassuring voice.

“Do you know this thing’s language?” I asked in awe.

“Not quite,” she replied while placing her hand on the still shuddering creature’s round shoulder. “But it does sound like the ancient Yslean tongue used the Scriptures.”

Shjasta faced me and smiled.

“This is no enemy, Wraith. It’s an A’dari Servant!”