Chapters:

Chapter 1- Curio (First Draft)

Curio

Our great empire was founded on the principles of Hazoth, great God of Civilisation. It was born from his divine ashes, and adheres to his divine will.

- A History of the Careallan Empire, c. 515 CE, Prior Pheric II

Thorne’s arrival in Sanctuary was just as any other; not quite welcomed and mostly ignored. He’d come to expect as much, of course. The world being what it was, few cared for new faces. There was only so much food to go around, after all, and people cared for their own first. Others, like Thorne, had to earn that right. He didn’t mind, though. He had plenty to offer for it. Trinkets, relics and, most of all, stories. Stories went a long way in this dreary, miserable world. Most would seek anything to offer them some small comfort, and what better than to escape into a tale of the old world?

Though unwelcoming, none gave Thorne more than an inquisitive look, which was certainly a better reception than some he’d experienced. The folk of Jeatown to the north-east had told him that the people of Sanctuary, while not quick to trust, were less than aggressive. Farmers and craftsmen mostly, they often supplied the surrounding settlements with resources, and certainly held a stronger ideal of unity than most Thorne had encountered. The general consensus was that less people equated to less danger, and he’d been forcibly shunned from many a hamlet for that very reason. He didn’t blame them, of course. They were rightly scared. Aberrations were often drawn to large gatherings of people, so few villages grew beyond a dozen or so families and survived to speak of it. He’d heard, and told, many a horror story about what happened then. Fewer mouths to feed and fewer lives to protect; that was how one survived in this barren world.

Sanctuary was on the larger side of the settlements he’d visited; a dozen buildings, he counted, not all homes. One looked to be an all-purpose workshop, while another had the look of some sort of trade depot for their exports. He decided the set up in the small alleyway next to the workshop, as it seemed to be clear and unused. He hoisted the tattered cloth he used as a makeshift backpack over his shoulder, spread it out on the ground, then sat and waited. He had only a handful of trinkets at the moment, but he hoped that perhaps something would catch a child’s eye, or that of a curious adult.

Sure enough, eventually, a young girl approached. She eyed the cloth curiously, then knelt down to get a closer look. Thorne watched her carefully; he’d been stolen from before and trust was, of course, something of a valuable commodity. She tilted her head and pointed at something.

“What’s that?” she asked in the thick, slurred accent of those in the Southern Reaches.

Thorne looked down to see what she had pointed to. “A pocket watch.” He picked it up and turned it over, showing her the engraving on the back. “This is the mark of the person who crafted it. And,” he clicked the small button on the top, and the lid sprung open, surprising but intriguing the girl, “this is the watch itself.” The girl eyed it closely, clearly confused.

“What’s it for?”

“In the old world, people would use these to keep track of the time of day. Although it was much easier then, as the sky was clear and the sun visible, many people spent long hours indoors, away from the sunlight, and this would help them keep track regardless.”

The girl let out an intrigued and impressed noise. “So fancy...” She furrowed her brow and a frown took over her face. She gave the watch a brief look, then turned and ran off, down the street a ways, and into one of the houses.

Thorne spun the watch in his hand. He’d found it in the ruins of a town from the old world. He’d read about them, previously, in one of the many books he’d found, but to find one was incredible. It didn’t function as the books said it should, as it was likely depleted of whatever energy had once powered it, but to even find one was most fortunate. He’d examined the device extensively, and found no evidence of how the two hands were able to move as he’d read that they could, so he wondered at how they might have worked, though the question was probably beyond him.

*

Several hours later, Thorne found himself trudging through a swamp with a Watcher in tow. From his understanding, Watcher’s were Sanctuary’s guards; they kept the people safe as best they could. This one, Perci, had insisted on accompanying Thorne, no doubt understanding first hand how dangerous it might be. Thorne was, of course, appreciative, but couldn’t help feeling as though it might instead be to keep an eye on him.

While in town, someone had approached him with an old rumour, of sorts, that there existed some kind of old world settlement not far to the south of Sanctuary. His curiosity piqued, Thorne made preparations to depart right away. It was then that Perci had stepped in, tried to dissuade him, then insisted on coming along.

Thorne knew full well the risks, of course. There might be aberrations lurking around any corner, behind any tree, beneath any rock. But, by the gods, it was worth it to him. What might he discover here? There was no telling. Besides which, he’d come face to face with this world’s dangers but a handful of times, by some gracious miracle.

“Looks like we’re nearing the edge of this accursed swamp,” Perci called to him, gesturing ahead to where the thick mist was beginning to clear and broken, gnarled trees were becoming visible.

With conviction, they trudged on, knee deep in the most foul-smelling substance Thorne had ever encountered. He tried not to think about what rotting things might lurk beneath the murky surface of the water.

Finally, Thorne’s feet found purchase on more solid ground. He pulled himself hurriedly out of the grimy swamp. Supporting himself against a nearby tree, he waited for Perci to catch up. Looking ahead, he saw the vague silhouettes of ruins, and a smile crept across his face.

“I see it, up ahead,” he said to Perci as the Watcher pulled himself out of the filthy water. He pointed ahead at the jagged silhouettes. “Not much further.”

Perci nodded and the two of them set off through the sparse, barren forest. The further they departed from the swamp, the more the mist cleared, and the more clear the settlement became. Crumbling buildings lined the edge of the now-encroaching forest. Dead, grey branches worked their way into the stonework, gnarled roots worked to reclaim the desolate land.

“Hard to imagine,” Perci said, grunting as he scaled a half-collapsed wall to get a better look at their surroundings, “that people once lived here. That these ruins were once a town, just like Sanctuary.” He fell into a contemplative silence. No doubt this was his first his first time seeing any remnant of the old world.

The two of them clambered through the ruins of what might have been a home. Little remained of it but the enduring stonework. Any possessions, furniture or the like were completely absent. Looted, perhaps? Simply rotted away by the plagued touch of time? It was hard to tell. Eventually they emerged from the building onto what might have been a road. Thorne imagined it to have once been clear, paved, home to several horse-drawn carriages. He’d seen depictions of such things in books. Here, he saw several metal poles lining this street. Likely, they’d once been much taller and served a purpose. Now, they were short, stubby, wasted away, just like everything else. Remnants of paving remained, hints that this had once been a thoroughfare of sorts. A half-buried stone here and there told enough of the story to Thorne.

“You truly expect to find something here?” Perci questioned. He was sceptical, that much was clear. “And something of any kind of value, at that?”

“Something of value, generally speaking, most likely not,” Thorne responded, absent-mindedly. He surveyed the buildings, looking for telltale signs of their once-purpose. “Something of value to me? Very likely, indeed.” He headed off down the road, to the right. There was some large building in the distance. Those tended to be the ones that housed something interesting, in his experience. “But believe me, my Watcher friend. If there is aught to be found, I’ll find it.”

Following closely behind, hand resting on the pommel of his sword, Perci questioned him further, “Why do you care? What is it that intrigues you so? Their world is gone, this is the world we live in now. I see little sense living in the past, we should instead think of the future. That’s what directly concerns us.”

“I’m well aware of that. But I am of the opinion that we might find some answer to our future in the past.” He stole a glance at Perci and noted his disbelief. “Tell me, how much do you know of the old world?”

“Little,” Perci admitted. “We’ve not much cause to learn of it. Besides, as I said, I don’t concern myself with it.”

Thorne reached into his pocket and took out the watch, throwing it gently to the Watcher. Perci grabbed it out of the air expertly, and studied it.

“A watch,” Thorne told him.

“A... watch?”

“A device from the old world. Somehow, they created that device to tell them what time of day it was, very precisely. How they did, I have no idea. How it worked, entirely beyond me. That they could have invented such a thing is something I find astounding. Those little bits of metal you see, under the glass? They moved, of their own power, to convey to the owner the time of day.”

“I think I see what you’re saying,” Perci said, slightly perplexed. He handed the watch back to Thorne.

“Such brilliant minds simply don’t exist any more, in our world. But, surely, the brilliant minds of the old world would have known how we might move forward now? Surely, to them, some simple answer to our problems would be glaringly obvious.”

“Perhaps,” Perci conceded. “But I still prefer to look ahead. To make of the world what we can.”

“And here we are.”

They stood outside the large building Thorne had observed from a distance. Even in ruins, it stood staggeringly tall. How truly enormous it must once have been, Thorne could not imagine.

There was an engraving, still barely legible, on a great slab of upright stone that stood in front of the building.

“Library,” Thorne said, a smile spreading across his face.

“Library?” Perci asked, confused. Most couldn’t read, but Thorne had persisted in teaching himself, and had a decent grasp on the written language of the old world.

“Books, Perci! Brilliant, beautiful books. Filled to the brim with stories and knowledge.”

Perci just gave him a puzzled look. “If you’re going in, I’d like to wait out here, keep my lungs filled with fresh air. If I hear you shout, I’ll come running.”

“I shan’t be long.”

Thorne, gleeful as a child, clambered into the ruins of the library. He’d found so few books in his time, apparently vulnerable to decay as they seemed to be, but they were among his favourite relics from the old world. Full of brilliant, fantastical stories of fabled heroes and, brimming with historical accounts of war and politics. Few things were as valuable a find to Thorne.

Much as he’d feared, the books he could find were decayed beyond recovery. He wandered along countless bookshelves, eagerly keeping his eyes peeled for the sign of a well-preserved book. Alas, it seemed his excursion was doomed to fail. Why must this damn world take even knowledge from us? Dejected, he continued his search. There weren’t many shelves left, and he’d all but given up. But then, by some miracle of the faded sunlight peeping impossibly through the smallest gap in the ruined stonework, his eye caught the glint of colour. It was brief, but enough for him to track down the colour in question. He found it, his eagerness washing back over him, and hastily grabbed it from the shelf. The spine was lined with some kind of gold material, which had been responsibly for reflecting the sunlight, and the cover itself was a beautiful red leather. Emblazoned on the front of the tome, in that same gold material, proudly stood the words ’Untold Tales’, and below, smaller, ’Esret Starvorn’. Thorne imagined that must have been the name of the author.

Ecstatic with his discovery, Thorne tucked the book away in his back, wondering at the incredibly pristine condition of it. Why was it other books decayed, but this one looked as though it had only just been printed? Questions for another time.

He rushed from the library to find Perci, ever watchful of his surroundings, leaning against the engraved upright stone.

“Are we leaving?” he said without turning.

“Indeed. I doubt any more is to be found here.”

“You did find something, then?” Perci said, turning.

“I did. A beautifully preserved tome, in fact. One of my better finds, to be sure.”

“Good.” Perci nodded in satisfaction. “Not a wasted trip, at least. Let’s go.”

Thorne followed Perci in silence back through the ruins, containing his excitement as best he could. They cleared the town’s perimeter fairly quickly, and made again for the swamp. He hated the idea of trudging through that thing again, but it extended for miles either way. It was, undoubtedly and unfortunately, the quickest route.

They decided to take a moment’s rest before proceeding, knowing the hardships of clambering through the swamp. They engaged in small talk, Perci learning of Thorne’s livelihood, and Thorne learning of what led Perci to become a Watcher.

“Nothing in my life felt worse than losing my father,” he told Thorne in a sombre tone. “So, I vowed I’d never let it happen to anyone else.”

Eventually, the two set off again. Perci told him it would be getting dark soon, and neither of them wanted to be out here then.

“Right, lead the way,” Thorne said.

Perci nodded, and took a step.

A low rumbling sound made itself known to Thorne. Perci stopped dead in his tracks.

“Shit!” Perci dropped to a crouch, and gestured for Thorne to do the same. He did, just as a deafening explosion of earth behind him sent rocks flying past his head. He couldn’t hear properly but, wide-eyed, he saw Perci’s mouth form the word, ’Run’, and he needed no further prompting. Before he knew what his body was doing, he was trudging once more through the swamp at a much faster pace than he’d believed possible. His hearing slowly returned, and he immediately wished it hadn’t.

The awful, guttural screeches emanating from whatever monstrosity had attacked them were indescribable. The awful screams of more human tones were just as horrible to hear. Driven by a morbid curiosity, Thorne stole a look over his shoulder.

Standing at least twelve feet tall was a scaled form of unimaginable horror. Brown scales, flecked with red, reflected the sun dimly, and wide, black pits of eyes with red irises swallowed it. Two vertical slits served as nostrils, and a gaping maw three times the size of a man’s head boasted rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth.

Thorne saw little more than that. The thing’s awful maw descended with impossible speed and clamped down on Perci’s body. A bone-chilling scream was cut short as the Watcher’s sword clattered to the ground, held only by a dismembered hand, and his legs slumped, lifeless, to the ground.

Unable to watch any longer, Thorne turned back and concentrated on putting as much distance between himself and the aberration as he could. He heard a disturbingly gleeful sound from it. Then, a sickening squishing sound as it chewed on Perci’s corpse. He ignored it. He couldn’t take it. It was enough to drive a man mad.

Somehow, he got away. He climbed onto solid ground, still alive, and breathed a sigh of relief. Presumably, the aberration had stayed to eat, giving Thorne the time he needed to flee.

“He’s dead,” Thorne whispered to himself. “He’s fucking dead. And I... what? Ran? Like a dog with it’s tail between it’s legs? Oh, gods!” His head collapsed into his hands as he tried to rid his memory of the horrors he had just witnessed.

“I can’t go back, not to Sanctuary. I can’t face them.” With a fierce determination, and an unsettled stomach, Thorne picked up his belongings, took a deep breath, and made for the east.