The elevator descended with a soft, steady hum, a stark contrast to the violent chaos they had just left behind. The coppery scent of blood still clung to them, a grim reminder in the sterile, enclosed space. The only light came from the control panel's soft glow, illuminating their tense faces.
Chessa, her small hand clutching a fold of Marya's trench coat, finally broke the silence with a nervous whisper. "Where are we going? You don't think that thing will be down there, do you?"
Marya looked down at the girl, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching her lips. "I don't know," she said, her voice calm. "But I don't think you need to worry about the creature. It learned its lesson."
Galit, who had been studying the elevator's seamless construction, suddenly let out a low, impressed whistle. "Whoa."
They all followed his gaze through the elevator's transparent wall. The shaft opened up into a breathtaking, impossible vista. They were descending through the center of a colossal cavern, so vast its ceiling was lost in shadowy gloom. Below and around them sprawled the ruins of a city—but not like any city they had ever seen. Structures of smooth, white stone and sleek, aged metal were built in elegant, flowing curves, intertwined with the very rock of the cavern. Giant, luminous mushrooms, some as tall as buildings, dotted the landscape, their caps emitting a gentle, blue-green light that pooled in the streets and reflected off metallic surfaces. Vines thick as pythons draped from balconies and arches, heavy with glowing, berry-like fruit that pulsed with a soft inner light. The air that whispered through the elevator vents was cool and carried a strange mix of scents: damp stone, rich soil, ozone from ancient machinery, and the sweet, almost sugary perfume of the alien flora.
Dalton stared, his jaw slack with utter shock. "What… what is this?"
Vista and Haruta exchanged a look of pure, unadulterated awe, their usual competitive banter forgotten.
Marya's golden eyes scanned the incredible expanse, reflecting the city's soft glow. "It looks like lost history," she murmured, a note of genuine curiosity in her voice.
Galit shook his head slowly. "No wonder someone wanted to keep this a secret."
"But why would it be here?" Dalton asked, his voice full of bewilderment. "Under the Drum Mountains?"
Marya pondered the question, her gaze sweeping over the impossible architecture and colossal plant life. "Maybe," she said, as the elevator gently touched down with a soft chime, "we are about to learn the answer to that question."
The doors slid open, releasing a wave of that strangely sweet, earthy air. They stepped out into a wide plaza paved with the same smooth white stone. Towering above them at every intersection were statues of the three-headed, bearded man his obsidian eyes seeming to watch their every move from multiple angles.
Vista rested a hand on his sword hilt, his warrior's instincts assessing the space. "This appears to be a city of some sort."
Marya, however, was already shaking her head. "No," she said, her sharp eyes missing nothing. "I don't think so."
Haruta frowned. "Why not? Look at all these buildings."
"It's the layout," Galit explained, his voice analytical as he pointed down a broad avenue. "And the contents. I agree. This is more like a research facility. Or a botanical garden on a massive scale."
Dalton looked between them, confused. "How did you come to that conclusion?"
Marya gestured around the empty plaza. "There are no shops. No market stalls. No restaurants or theaters. Nothing that suggests daily life or commerce." Her boot scuffed the pristine stone. "No wear and tear from crowds."
Galit nodded, indicating the surrounding flora. "And the flora and fauna appear to be the main feature, not a decoration. The way these plants are arranged… it's intentional. Cultivated. And there are a lot of mushrooms, specifically."
Haruta kicked a pebble, which skittered across the stone. "And yeah, everything's just… massive. Plants don't naturally grow to be this big."
A connection clicked in Marya's mind. "Natalie had mentioned that this island has a unique concentration of pyrobloin."
Galit's eyes lit up. "Maybe this is the source."
Vista's brow furrowed. "But pyrobloin is most concentrated in the Sky Islands. It's what forms their foundation."
"Exactly," Dalton said, latching onto the point. "But this isn't a sky island. Why would there be so much of it here?"
Marya looked over her shoulder, her gaze traveling up the immense elevator shaft towards the surface world far above. A theory, wild and incredible, formed in her mind. "Maybe it was," she said, her voice quiet but clear.
Dalton looked at her, utterly baffled. "But… how?"
Marya finally shrugged, a gesture that seemed to dismiss centuries of conventional wisdom. "How did islands get up there to begin with?" She looked back at the king, a glint of dark amusement in her eyes. "What goes up must come down, right?"
Galit pointed toward the nearest structure, a domed building with great arched entryways, its surface a tapestry of glowing vines and metallic panels. "Should we go inside one of these structures?"
Marya nodded, already striding toward it. "Let's."
Dalton hesitated, a king's caution warring with rampant curiosity. "Is that wise?" he asked the empty air. No one was listening. With a sigh of resignation, he hurried after the others, leaving the silent, judging statues of the three-headed bearded man to keep watch over the secrets of the fallen sky.
The dome was a cathedral of forgotten science. The air hummed with a low, residual energy and smelled of rich, loamy earth, sweet flowers, and the faint, metallic tang of ancient machinery. Above them, the curved ceiling was a tapestry of glowing vines and crystalline growths that pulsed with a soft, rhythmic light, like a sleeping giant's heartbeat. They moved through rows of massive, crystalline cylinders, each one a self-contained ecosystem where bizarre, oversized plants and fungi thrived in a misty, nutrient-rich atmosphere. Some mushrooms glowed with a soft internal fire, while others drooped with heavy, iridescent fruits that seemed to shift color when not looked at directly.
"This appears to be a greenhouse of some sort," Galit observed, his voice hushed in the vast, reverent space. "But on a scale I've never seen."
Their attention was drawn to the far end of the dome. Three massive cylinders, larger than the others, stood like silent sentinels. Two were empty, their glass scarred and cloudy with age. The third, however, was filled with a swirling, faintly green fluid. Suspended within it was a half-formed creature—a hulking, bipedal thing with the beginnings of thick limbs and the unmistakable nubs of antlers erupting from its skull. Wires and tubes snaked into its form, a grotesque parody of an umbilical cord.
Vista's hand went to his mustache, stroking it thoughtfully. "It looks as though our aggressive friend may have originated from here."
A cold dread settled in Dalton's stomach. "For what purpose? And how long has it been roaming free?" His voice was tight with a king's fear for his people. "I hate to think what an encounter with the citizens of my island would result in."
Haruta, ever the pragmatist, shrugged. "Maybe it is meant to be a guardian of sorts. It might not do anything to the locals. It attacked us because we were in the space it was supposed to be protecting."
Dalton nodded slowly, but his shoulders remained a tense line of concern. A guardian was little comfort when it could tear a man in half.
While the others debated, Marya's curiosity had drawn her to a lone console, its surface dulled by time but still sporting a few buttons that glowed with a stubborn, faint light. With a characteristic lack of ceremony, she pressed one.
A sharp crackle of static made everyone jump. Then, from a projector hidden in the ceiling, a beam of light shot down, resolving into the shimmering, translucent form of a woman. She wore a simple lab coat over practical clothing, her hair pulled into a messy bun. A smudge of what looked like soil was on her cheek. She smiled, a warm, intelligent expression that seemed to look right through them.
"Log entry one. This is Dr. Żywie of Kura Peak," the hologram began, her voice clear and bright, echoing slightly in the dome. "Project Prometheus is officially underway. The Ancient Kingdom's faith in our work is a honor I will not squander. By merging the unique Pyrobloin-infused botany of our sky island with their… remarkable understanding of life itself, we aim to create a self-sustaining energy source. A biological 'Mother Flame' that could heal the world, not destroy it. The potential is… breathtaking."
A stunned silence fell over the group. Ancient Kingdom. The words hung in the air, heavy with implication.
Marya, her expression unreadable, pressed another button.
The image of Dr. Żywie flickered and reset. This time, she looked more tired, but her eyes still burned with passion. "Log entry forty-seven. The principles the Ancient Kingdom operates on… it's not just technology. It's a philosophy. A belief that knowledge should free people, not control them. They speak of a world without the tyranny of celestial dragons, where the seas are open to all. It sounds like a dream. Here, suspended among the clouds, it almost feels possible."
Another button press.
"Log entry one hundred and twelve." Żywie's face was now strained, her hair escaping its bun. She rubbed her temples. "The energy requirements are… staggering. The Prometheus tree requires more power than we can sustainably draw from the sun and cloud dynamics. I've begun tapping into the geothermal vents deep within the island's core. It's unstable, but the potential output… if I can just create a surge, a catalyst to ignite the reaction…" She trailed off, her gaze distant, consumed by the scientific gamble.
The next log made her flinch. The hologram showed a different woman. Soot streaked her face, her lab coat was torn, and a fresh cut marred her brow. The bright energy was gone, replaced by a hollowed-out grief. "Log entry… I don't know. Kura Peak has fallen. My ambition… my hubris… it severed our connection to the Pyrobloin clouds. We crashed into the Blue Sea. So many were lost. The Prometheus tree is shattered, its energy… corrupted. My dream of healing is now a monument to my failure." She took a shaky breath. "But there are survivors below. They need help. My knowledge can still do some good. This… this will be my atonement."
The final log entry was the most chilling. Dr. Żywie spoke in a hushed, urgent whisper, her eyes constantly darting off-screen as if expecting discovery. "They're here. Agents of the new 'World Government.' They've outlawed the study of the Ancient Kingdom. They want to bury my work, to erase this truth. I cannot allow that." Her expression hardened into one of fierce, desperate resolve. "I must protect this sanctuary until a new dawn, when the world is ready for this knowledge again. Using the last of the Prometheus biomass… I have created a guardian. A fusion of the island's native animals, the resilient flora, and the very essence of the land itself. I call it 'Leshy.' May it guard these secrets until those who understand the value of life, not just power, find their way here."
The hologram flickered and died, leaving them in the dim, glowing light of the greenhouse.
The silence that followed was profound. The hum of the machinery, the drip of water, the soft rustle of giant leaves—every sound seemed amplified by the weight of the history they had just witnessed. They weren't just in a hidden lab. They were standing in the tomb of a dream, a lost chapter of a war fought over the soul of the world, guarded by a lonely scientist's last, desperate creation.
The silence in the dome was a heavy, living thing, thick with the dust of centuries and the ghost of a dream that had crashed from the sky. The hum of dormant machinery was a funeral dirge, the drip of water from the oversized leaves a steady, mournful rhythm. Dalton stood as if rooted to the spot, his broad shoulders slumped, his face a canvas of stunned disbelief. The kingly composure he wore like a cloak had been torn away, leaving a man staring into an abyss of history too vast to comprehend.
"I… I don't know what to do with this information," he breathed, the words barely a whisper, yet they echoed in the profound quiet.
Marya turned from the silent console, her movement fluid and unnervingly calm amidst the tension. She rose, a stark figure in black against the soft, glowing flora. "Do nothing with it," she stated, her voice flat and final.
Vista and Haruta, who had been standing in contemplative silence, their usual bravado stripped away by the holographic confession, looked at her. Their expressions were grim, a shared understanding passing between them—soldiers who knew the cost of certain truths.
Dalton's head snapped up, his eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and frustration. "What do you mean? How can I stay silent? This… this changes everything!"
"How can you not?" Marya countered, a single, sharp brow arching. Her golden eyes held his, devoid of malice but filled with an icy, pragmatic certainty. "This is a secret that should remain concealed until the time is right. Should the World Government learn of its existence—after believing it destroyed for eight hundred years—Drum Island will be scrubbed from the map. There will be no kingdom to protect. Only a very deep, very quiet crater."
Galit nodded slowly, his long neck tilting in agreement. "She is correct." His voice was low, carrying the weight of his own people's scars. "My home suffered a similar fate for far less than what was revealed here today. This knowledge… everything in this room… it isn't just history. It is a weapon that could shatter the world as we know it."
Marya's gaze swept over the crystalline cylinders, the dormant consoles, the statues of the three headed bearded man watching from the shadows. "Every family has its secrets," she said, her tone softening almost imperceptibly. "Secrets that eventually become legends, passed down through whispers in the dark. That is how truth survives." She looked back at Dalton, and for a brief moment, she wasn't a pirate or a swordswoman, but merely a keeper of a different, heavier legacy. "And now you have yours."
Dalton swallowed hard, the sound audible in the stillness. The weight of the revelation settled on him not as a burden, but as a sacred duty. He was no longer just the king of snow and Sakura; he was the guardian of a fallen sky.
A faint, almost approving smirk touched Vista's lips. "She speaks as if she has experience."
Haruta let out a dry chuckle. "Not truer words were ever spoken."
Marya's only reply was a slight, knowing smirk that didn't reach her eyes. "Secrets are the pillars of my legacy."
The profound moment was shattered by a sudden CRASH and the sound of scattering soil. Everyone flinched, hands going to weapons, before their eyes found the source. A large clay pot lay shattered on the floor, its unusual, phosphorescent-blue soil spilled across the white stone. Standing over it, trying to look innocent, were Jelly and Chessa. Jelly had shapeshifted several wobbly arms in a futile attempt to gather the mess, while Chessa was trying to kick the larger pieces under a giant glowing mushroom.
"We didn't do it!" Chessa squeaked, her voice a little too high.
"B-bloop!" Jelly added, nodding his entire body so vigorously he started to wobble on the spot.
The tension broke. Vista sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Haruta shook his head with a grudging smile. Even Marya let out a soft, amused breath, the stern line of her mouth relaxing for a fraction of a second.
Dalton watched the scene, the absurdity of it cutting through his overwhelm. He took a deep, steadying breath, the king returning to his posture. "We should not linger," he declared, his voice finding its familiar, resonant tone. "The blizzard may well have passed, and Dr. Kureha is most likely finished with her initial treatment." He cast one last, long look around the cathedral of secrets, committing it to memory. "Our business here is… concluded."
The tomb of a dream was left behind, its silence once again complete, its secrets entrusted to a handful of unlikely guardians. The only evidence of their visit was a spilled pot of glowing blue soil and the lingering, sweet scent of alien fruit—small, fragile things in a chamber that held the power to change the world.