Chapter 5: Nowhere

Harland opened his eyes but the darkness was so heavy that if it wasn't for him blinking he would not have known that they opened at all. He could not feel the ground underneath him but he knew he wasn't falling. The only thing that grounded him in this space was the smell. It was the dry, stale air that could only come from somewhere bellow the ground. It was the sort of scent that would let any person walking in that space know that they were a tentative visitor to such a place. Harland knew that this sort of a place would swallow him whole into this blackness and never let him out. Despite this he was calm. Uncertain but clam. There was something about this that made sense in his head. Then another sense found purchase in the blackness.

He began to hear a sound. It was a sound that made Harland cringe due to its abrasive nature piercing through the void that he had found himself in. It was the sound of stone grinding on stone. It was smoothed blocks that were sliding into place, it was weathered heavy stones being forced into places that they had been moved from. It was trying to move earth that was still spiteful of being taken away, beaten and chiseled, and left. Harland could not see the stone that was making this noise but he knew what it looked like. Covered in moss, engraved in stories that would only be remembered by the rain drops that defaced it so nobody else could know it, and having been chosen for its weight rather than the quality of stone. Harland knew that it did not hate him and he wanted to let the stone know that it was not its fault.

Harland didn't have a moment to self-reflect before a blinding light burst into existence with a vibrancy that made Harland have to look away. The sheer brightness had Harland fighting back a sudden fit of nausea. He did a poor job of it as he fell to his knees and began gagging. The light was bright enough for his shadow to endlessly expand off into space. This is when it became the most clear to to Harland that there was nothing was holding him aloft in this space. He simply was suspended in this void without a beginning or end in sight.

Finally, Harland was unable to contain what he was trying to hold back. Harland heaved and then vomited on the space in front of him, he felt worse as it came out. Harland opened his eyes to see that what came out of him looked like documents. He stared at them perplexed. He couldn't help but skim over them for the one document that he instinctively knew would be there. Harland began aggressively throwing the papers to the side as he looked. Bellow the certificates, invoices, degrees, bills, and documents dictating and detailing all features and factors of people that Harland wasn't sure he had ever known. It was there that he found it. The adventuring charter. Harland stared at it as if it was some golden treasure. He reached towards it with a reverence reserved for religious idols and the body parts of saints.

His hand rested on the paper on the non-ground. He had it there for a moment. He then could feel the paper shift below his hand. Moving his hand from the adventuring charter and he could see it crumpling itself as if it was being pulled through an unseen hole underneath it. Harland tried to grasp it but it was as if the force that was pulling the paper from the other side had a force he could not fathom to muster, that or the paper itself wanted to go through the hole instead of going with Harland. It wasn't long before the paper disappeared into the invisible hole in the invisible ground. Harland simply fell back and sat with his arms limp at his side. He just sat there and let himself breathe for a moment as the bright light shined on his back.

Harland eventually stood up. He was unsteady on his feet and mainly being held up by the frustrated acceptance of what was happening to him. He looked down at the space that the charter disappeared into as it was the last thing that happened and the only thing that really gave him a sense of distance in this void. He was beginning to feel the slight pressure in his head that he knew was the precursor to the sort of headache that makes anything other than lying down a chore. Harland rubbed his temple slightly with one of his hands as he turned towards the light that was buffeting him. Turning into it was not the blinding beam that he had expected.

Looking into the light Harland couldn't help but smile at what it showed him. He saw the towers of Prsymus, gold and spiraling into the sky. He saw the busy ports bringing all of the continent into one place. Busy people walking on old stone. Business with bright signs and the potential to hold all number of wonders on their shelves. A place where a pocket full of coin can go a long way or slip right through your fingers. This was the place Harland called home but the longer he looked the more his smile faded into disappointment. He could not be sure of where the feeling sprung from or what prompted it but Harland knew the feeling well. As he stared another image began impose itself over the vision.

It was Prysmus. The City of Spires, Tiria's Port, The End of all Roads. It wasn't the same Prysmus though. The vibrancy was lost. The spires did not shine and the sea did not shimmer in the suns rays. It was bleak. More striking than this were the flames Harland could see growing within the city. The longer he looked the more they grew. As he stared the merchant ships collapsed with their a cargo into the ports. People ran through the streets. The golden spires melted like wax candles, slowly drooping before simple shattering and crashing to the ground. Harland couldn't look away, horrified by the sights but entranced by the oddly distant feeling. Eventually he turned away from the vision, tired and uncertain. He preferred the void at this point, it did not force him to question everything that was going on and neither did it question him.

As he stared off into the void the blinding light still wrapped around his back enough that he knew it was there. He was able to find some calm within himself, a sort of strange acceptance of whatever circumstance that he was in. It washed over him like a rain, many small moments all becoming a single event. As he let the calm acceptance come over him he noticed the light that wrapped around him begun to dim. He took a deep breath before turning around. He wanted to make certain that this feeling that he had found in himself, or this place found in him, wouldn't disappear again if he looked at that city burning. He turned around and there was no doomed city, no burning trade port, no destruction.

The light was no longer one single overwhelmingly bright beam. The light had portioned itself into many smaller lights that wavered in the air close together. They flickered like candle flames and sparkled like far away stars in the night sky. Harland watched them fan out from the central point that they started at. He began to notice that they did not move without purpose, there was a form being made. As the pinpricks of light moved into place Harland began to look up at a giant face. It dwarfed him and looked down upon him, not with menace but with a sort of strained patience. The longer he looked at the face the more he could make it out as if his memory was filling in the gaps that the flames left. He could see wrinkles and little divots in the skin. He could see the sharp chin and gaunt skin pulled over cheekbones. The face felt ancient but the man that Harland saw he knew was very real, and alive.

Then it opened its eyes and the light he had seen before emanated from them. Harland took a step back, unsure of what this figure wanted or even its purpose. As it stared at Harland the flames went from red to white and it felt like Harland was able to see the face more clear. He was able to see the tired expression of someone who knows that they have yet more to do. That was when the face spoke to Harland. It was a deep and droning tone that sounded as if it was pulled out from an ancient pit that had not been disturbed in eons.

"Why are you afraid of the jungle?" The voice's words came softly but with a piercing exactness that made Harland feel that anything other than the truth would be unacceptable. Harland, however, did not have an answer that he felt was honest. As Harland scrounged through his mind to try and find an answer for this question the ground bellow him began to change. It grew moss and was covered in damp foliage, the faint sound of water dripping down from unseen heights could be heard. It slowly unfurled out from him like the first drop of water paint on a canvas.

"I don't know, I wish I did but I don't..." Harland gets caught in the moment as he finds a rather simple idea to direct his mind with, "No, it is not that I don't want to but that I can't."

As Harland considers this different approach the ground underneath him continues to spread out. Now there are small ferns and ground covering flowers that sprout from the damp soil. Their leaves and small petals glistening with the moisture in the air. The air around Harland become notably more humid to the point where a light mist is hovering around him, partly from the residue of rain hitting the ground and partly from the decaying leaf litter.

"Ah, you learn quick when you want to." The face nods as it speaks to Harland, the voice seems to lose some portion of the ancient rumbling.

"I always want to learn, it is kind of the reason I came here." Harland speaks without thinking and upon hearing his own words is sort of caught up in the strange sound of honesty.

"What did you hope to learn?" The face has now reduced in size, it is still bigger than Harland but no longer dwarfing him.

"About Sundassta and what secrets it held. Just to uncover the unknown." Harland's face is a mix of emotions, mainly some amount of disappointment in himself, "I guess, I also wanted to know something about myself. Just to come here and feel it."

Harland looks at his own hands as he takes a deep breath. Those days felt so distant and he felt so naive. The ground continues to spread out but now it is being split by snaking roots of giants trees covered in thick, gnarled vines. The roots splay out like fingers of some verdant hand bearing the weight of some colossus. From the roots came the titanic trunks of trees that feel as if they were there the entire time but merely shrouded by the darkness. They are not the trees of forests which sway in the wind and captivate with soft noises. They are not the trees of far north whose dark green boughs speak of a certain sort of stubborn pride and shelter those bellow them from heavy snow. No, these are ancient beings in their own right whose life span and perspective has little heed for the beings at its roots other than to let them know that they are watching. These ancients provide no solace with their bark, save for the vines that run up them, and their vibrant leaves are only a shimmering ceiling for those that stare up.

The jungle that sprouted up around Harland felt like it could have gone on forever or could be walked out of in a minute. As Harland looked up from his hands he looked around at this verdant realm that was around him. He did not feel fear. He looked up at the canopies, he saw the faint shine of the sun beyond, and then down at the decaying leaves with the roots running under them, he saw small insects scurry along on their way. He felt calm and aware in this space. His senses picked up on the minute texture of the bark of the trees as he ran his fingers along it or the smell of the leaf litter decomposing so as to bring new life. In fact, there was a sort of understanding comfort of this place. He knew about these trees, he knew far away bird calls that echoed off in the distance, he knew about the dangerous reptiles and larger animals. The longer her surveyed this place the more at ease that he became. At first he thought that this was because this was a dream and he just felt that nothing could hurt him hear. This is when a new thought came into his mind and he looked up at the face made of stars with eyes filled with some understanding.

"I am not afraid of the jungle. I'm afraid of something in the jungle." Harland spoke slowly as he tried to parse the thoughts as they came out. The face made of star smile and nodded before condensing ever further, becoming about the size of Harland. This head slowly floated into the earth bellow and disappeared from sight. Not long afterwards came a hand that burst from the ground, startling Harland slightly. From that first hand climbed an older man wearing traditional clothes along with various beads and tokens hanging from his neck and wrists. Across all of his body is are stars and symbols depicted on his skin in white body paint. He brushes himself off but some of he dust from the ground still clings to him and his long hair no matter what he does. He walks over to a tree covered in vines and grabs one of the thicker parts. With seemingly no effort the vines comes off of the tree and shapes itself into a functional walking stick. The man looks back to Harland with a small smile.

"I feel as if you want to talk, to find answers where your mind held questions." The odd man said, "I cannot speak to you on all things, but I do know somethings that will be of help to you."

The odd man gestures towards a direction in the jungle and begins to walk with a certainty. Harland was uncertain about what the man would lead him to but the promise of answers was more than enough to have Harland join him at his side.

"Do you have a nam-" Harland started to try to talk with the man as they walked but the odd man hushed Harland with a quick gesture.

"This is not the place for talking, that place is not far now." The odd man explained in a calm but chastising way. Harland was confused but nodded to the man. As they walked Harland began to notice that this man was far taller than him, made all the more plain by how he walked with his back incredibly straight. Harland also noticed that man seemed more gaunt than at first glance, the bones of his joints moving as he strode were plainly obvious to Harland now. It was odd because the man seemed very healthy and not at all malnourished. Harland observed these oddities of the mans stature as they traveled through the jungle.

It was not until they came to a small clearing amidst the giant roots that the odd man stopped. Harland nearly slipped due to the sudden stop but managed to regain his footing. Once firmly on both feet Harland looked over and saw an old fire pit made with old stone having been dug into the ground so as to make a circle. Around this were carved wooden benches from large branches that still had branches which grew out from them in places. The odd man walked over to one of the seats and takes a seat, his knees come up to his chest due to the length of his legs. He looks over at Harland with oddly darkened eyes with a twinkling gleam to them. He gestures over to a seat on the other side of the fire pit. Harland looks at the man for a moment before moving over and taking the seat that was offered.

"Now, you have questions?" The man passes his hand over the long dead fire pit and the ancient coals and tinder reignite anew. The small but stubborn flame makes sputtering noises as it tries to contest with the damp leaves that cover it. Soon there is a black smoke that pours out from the pit from the leaves serving as fodder. Harland stared at that little fire becoming a proper blaze and couldn't help but commiserate with it. Harland looked across at the odd man through the black smoke. He swore that the odd man's eyes twinkled like the stars through the smoke while his skin appeared more like the bark of the massive trees that were around him. A small breeze pushed the smoke to the side and Harland saw the man turn back into the one that he had followed to get here.

"Yeah, I got more questions than a Plexia has poor merchants." Harland laughs to himself as he tried to change the tone to something that he is more accustomed to. The odd man chuckles a few time and nods. Harland was taken off guard from this reaction, he did not expect this mystical figure to have a sense of humour or to even humour his.

"You would be the one that know of such things, I have only heard stories." The odd man nods a few times as he pokes at the flame a bit with his staff.

"Yeah, I guess. So, I think it would be rude for me to skip over introductions before I seek your wisdom." Harland attempts to play into the ceremonial aspect of this encounter. He wasn't certain if there was a procedure or not but erring on the side of respectful caution couldn't hurt in his mind.

"Ah, names are a funny thing. Spent a whole long time not having one, that made things very simple." The odd man looked at the fire for a moment before shrugging, "... but there were always names. I think the one I liked best was X'itali, it is an old name that few speak now."

Harland leans back into the bench that he is sitting on and seems to toss the name around in his mind. X'itali looks over at him with a small knowing smile.

"That is old Sundasstan..." Harland's tone is probing as if he knows only half a story but it is more than he had known, "Not sure what it means though."

"Well, it is good enough that you recognize the source of the words. It was part of the reason that you drew our attention." X'itali explains plainly as Harland is overcome by confusion and curiosity.

"Who is we?" Harland's nerves are on high alert at this new information. It was hard for him to not jump from any of the many jungle noises that happened behind the screen of greenery. X'itali's calm gaze became disconcerting to Harland until the mystic raised a hand to denote that he should remain calm.

"Not the easiest question to answer. What you need to know is you came to us." The smoke shifts back and obscures X'itali's face from Harland somewhat, "You asked, we answered. We gave you the power to answer every question you have."

As X'itali spoke his face shifted behind the smoke. First it seemed long and crudely made, his mouth was a slit and his eyes were empty. His mouth didn't even move to speak.

"You had a reason for coming here. You wanted an answer. You got the answer you already knew."

Then it became something akin to a panther in the underbrush, nothing could be seen but bright yellow eyes and sharp teeth.

"Now you are running scared. Scared of your own reflection because you don't recognize it anymore."

Then it looked as if his was a face was bellow running water, his features floated about in the water as if they were not attached. Every time he spoke the words made ripples.

"Be who you are. We are behind you. We always have been."

Harland's senses were being pulled into extremes just watching this figure change as he spoke. While this was happening the jungle came alive with all the noises that it could muster. The sounds of animal calls were matched with voices and strange sounds which felt like echoes of echoes. Harland is breaking out in a cold sweat and gripping the bench he was sitting on with white knuckled hands, his finger nails digging into the old bark.

It was when X'itali stood up and towered over him like he was a distorted shadow that Harland's mind found it's limit. He fell back off of the bench and instead of the leaf strewn ground there was nothing. He was falling. He could not open his eyes, not that he would want to. As he fell he could hear the words of X'itali, he did not want to imagine the form he was in but his words were calm.

"Trust us. Trust Yourself."