The Infinite Ascent
Chapter 29: The Veil Of The Forgotten Sky
The Path, a winding tapestry of fate, twisted and contorted in ways that defied the very principles of logic and the expectations set by the horizon. What had once been a direct corridor crafted from gleaming obsidian and shimmering silver now arched upward majestically, unfurling in a grand spiraling curve that vanished into the ethereal realm of clouds. Yet, these were not mere clouds; they were luminous curtains of light, shifting and pulsating with an otherworldly vibrance. Each undulating veil momentarily unveiled fragments of something so expansive that it surpassed the grasp of comprehension. Glimpses of impossible landscapes appeared, resembling windows that opened and closed into myriad alternate worlds. At times, I beheld vast fields charged with frozen lightning, arcs of electric blue and white crackling in a frozen moment in time, while at others, boundless seas of glass stretched infinitely beneath a smattering of fractured moons, their shards casting broken reflections upon the shimmering surface. In other visions, I noticed forests teeming with trees that soared higher than any mountain, their expansive roots intertwining and encircling entire continents, showcasing the incredible diversity and strangeness of existence.
But as captivating as these ethereal realms were, they failed to resonate as true destinations; instead, they felt more like haunting reminders, ephemeral echoes, or forewarnings of all that the Infinite Ascent had consumed, erasing or discarding all traces of their existence.
The young boy accompanying me squeezed my hand with a grip that seemed to convey both excitement and fear as we traversed this surreal landscape. His wide eyes flickered with a mix of awe and apprehension, unable to avert his gaze from the ever-changing, kaleidoscopic sky hovering above. "It's almost as if the Path is revealing to us… places that were once real and now linger only in memory," he murmured, his voice a soft whisper almost drowned by the magnitude of the unearthly visions surrounding us.
Beside us, the enigmatic crimson woman, her fiery essence barely flickering under the weight of the shifting winds, let out a quiet, melodic laugh tinged with melancholy. "Not merely places that used to exist," she replied, her features softened by a wistful expression. "They represent what could have been, what might still be. These are not mere memories; they are fractures in the great Veil, ephemeral slivers of possibility breaching the realm of perception." As her gaze lingered on one mesmerizing vision, a city constructed upon an enormous chain that climbed into the vastness of the heavens, its architectural spires pulsating rhythmically with living luminescence, there was a tinge of longing in her voice. "Perhaps they also represent futures that never had the opportunity to be."
Not far ahead, the scarred man maintained his vigilant stance, his grip tightening around the hilt of his blade as a grimace of apprehension crossed his rugged face. He marched a pace ahead of us, each muscle in his body coiled with tension and determination. "These are mere illusions," he asserted, his tone edged with skepticism. "The Path seeks to manipulate our senses, to weaken our resolve. We must maintain our focus and keep moving." Yet, despite his insistence that the visions were mere tricks of the light, his clenched jaw revealed the unease simmering beneath his bravado.
We pressed onward with a shared sense of purpose until the bridge terminated abruptly at a sheer precipice, a precipice that loomed before us like a yawning maw. Below, we found a chasm so vast that it spanned beyond the limits of our vision, shrouded in a dark mist that seemed to pulse rhythmically, a distant echo of a living entity, alive with breath and heartbeat. At the very center of this abyss, a massive island hung suspended, circular in form, its base anchored by monumental chains forged from black stone, connecting it to unseen pillars that vanished into the fog. This island shimmered faintly, semi-encased in its own radiant atmosphere, captivating in its otherworldly beauty. At its heart stood a grand structure: a colossal gate of pristine white stone, intricately engraved with spirals of silver that throbbed in unison with the chains securing it.
"The Veil Gate," breathed the crimson woman reverently, recognition illuminating her features. Her flame flickered, wavering in acknowledgment of the significance of this threshold. "Legends whisper that all Forgotten Paths converge at this point… where the very essence of the dead skies is bound."
The boy, lost in contemplation, tilted his head quizzically. "Dead skies? What do you mean by that?" he inquired, his voice laced with both curiosity and innocence.
She took a moment, her voice a melodic caress as she responded thoughtfully, "A world above worlds, my young friend. Before the Fracture, the sky is said to have been boundless, pure and unbroken. When it shattered into countless fragments, pieces fell away, each fragment giving rise to the heavens that now define myriad realms. But the original sky, the true sky… that was buried, forgotten beneath the chaos. It lies beyond this very gate."
The weight of her words hung in the air between us, pregnant with both dread and awe. Yet, cutting through the reverence, the scarred man spoke with a resolute confidence that suggested a singular direction. "Then that is where we must venture. If we are to climb the Infinite Ascent, we must cross through that gate."
We were confronted with a formidable challenge. The Path did not offer a straightforward approach; to reach the suspended island, we would have to traverse the enormous chains that stretched ominously across the chasm. Each link was broader than a house, each slick surface glistening with frost that sparkled faintly in the pale half-light of our surroundings. From the mist below, whispers swirled, voices entwined within the silence, calling out to us, not through spoken words but through temptation, an alluring lull of surrender that promised solace to anyone brave or foolish enough to fall willingly into oblivion and be forgotten.
A weight settled in my chest as I took a deep breath, silencing the chaos within, and stepped forward first. My boots struck against the obsidian surface, echoing hollowly in the stillness. The boy clung to me, his small, trembling hand betraying a mix of terror and determination that refused to release its grip.
As I took my first step across the first of the chains, an unsettling disturbance slipped through the mist below. Ghostly faces began to materialize, pale and ethereal, some resembling humans while others were warped beyond recognition, phantoms of those who came before us. They floated upward, their translucent forms extending ghostly arms toward us in desperate supplication, their mouths moving silently. At that moment, the boy's eyes widened in horror, his breath catching in his throat as he gazed into the abyss of lost souls.
"They're speaking," he uttered, his voice trembling as if each word had the weight of a thousand fears.
"What do they say?" I inquired, instinctively tightening my grip on his arm, my mind racing with a mix of curiosity and dread.
"They… they remember us," he stammered, his voice cracking under the strain of emotion. "They say they knew us, once, in other lives. They say… we left them behind."
A chill etched itself down my spine, colder than the frost that clung to the ground beneath our feet, a suffocating sensation that made my heart race. Against my better judgment, I dared to glance down into the yawning abyss below. Dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of faces stared back at us, their countenances flickering with fragments of memories that sparked a sense of eerie déjà vu I couldn't quite grasp. Eyes glimmering with recognition met mine, and mouths moved to form names that hovered at the edge of my consciousness, tantalizingly close yet forever out of reach.
Suddenly, the crimson woman beside us, the fierce guardian of flames, spoke with an urgency that cut through the oppressive atmosphere. Her fiery presence flared angrily, casting a protective glow around us, forcing them back into the depths from whence they came. "Ignore them! The abyss feeds on memory. It will take everything you are if you let it."
With her words echoing in my mind, we pressed onward, step by deliberate step, link by unbreakable link in our entwined fate. Finally, at long last, we reached the suspended island, a magnificent formation rising eerily from the dark chasm beneath us. Its surface was smooth and cold, fashioned from glistening white stone, intricately etched with concentric spirals that wound inward, drawing our gaze toward the towering gate at its heart. Each spiral pulsated softly, as if echoing the very breath of life in the towering structure looming before us.
And then, abruptly, the whispers faded away.
The profound silence that descended was more alarming than the abyss itself. An oppressive stillness filled the air, wrapping around us like a thick shroud. There were no voices, no rustle of wind, not even the faintest hum of chains that had accompanied us thus far. It felt as though the entire island held its breath, caught in a moment of immaculate anticipation.
Then, as if sensing our fear, the gate began to stir. The spirals at our feet ignited with blinding light, each one revealing flashes of visions, ethereal moments suspended in time, memories torn from our minds and presented like delicate offerings to a deity. I glimpsed fragments of my past: mistakes etched in time, loves lost and longed for, and fragile attachments laid bare, all illuminated in vivid detail before my eyes.
The figure that emerged from the rippling surface of the gate was vast and undefined, a shadow draped in the brilliance of starlight, shimmering like a living constellation against the fabric of the universe. Its faceless visage loomed over us, an enigma that shifted the very air we breathed.
The boy beside me gasped, breaking the oppressive quiet with a fragile whisper. "A Watcher."
The presence of that colossal entity pressed down upon us like a force of gravity itself, heavy and infinite, an overwhelming weight that made it hard to breathe. The Watcher's gaze swept over each of us in turn before resounding within my mind, its voice like distant thunder rolling through the valley of my thoughts.
"You climb a Path that was never meant for mortal feet," it intoned, the words resonating within my very bones. "Before the Veil of Forgotten Sky may open, a toll must be given."
With those words, the spirals beneath our feet ignited into a vibrant luminescence, each one showcasing visions of our innermost moments, those light and shadowy memories we had long cherished and buried alike. I stood before the multitude of reflections, confronting my past, my regrets, my ephemeral joys, all laid bare before the Watcher as if they were offerings laid at the altar of some ancient and all-seeing deity.
The Watcher's voice deepened, echoing through the very core of my soul, as it posed a question that hung in the air like the heavy scent of inevitability.
"What will you surrender to the Ascent, and what will you cling to, even if it damns you?"
As the gate pulsed with life, thrumming with an energy that defied the very essence of existence, we found ourselves ensnared in the moment, waiting for our answer, poised on the brink of profound transformation and inevitable sacrifice.
To be continued...