Voices of the Martagdsan
Hearing a child's laughter while sleep-deprived in the middle of the night should make one die of fright, but not Khachi. Something about her laughing was joyous—like a child having fun playing with someone or something, laughing about how carefree everything is with innocence about the world.
And Khachi could not help but follow it.
As Khachi pursues the voice, he blindly follows the channels they have come through. Though there should be hesitation after Khaliun's warnings, there is not any because the moment he spots the source, he isn't worried about the looming seal of death that could freeze him to his bones.
He finally sees the little girl nearly all the way back from where they had come.
Khachi notices that the girl has to be at least two or three. He notices that her clothing is similar to the ongon that they met earlier. But this time, her clothing looks to lack some of the intricate designs and appears to be a size too big for her. Her hair is in two braids, and mixed with it are silver and blue ornaments.
Yet, the most peculiar part is her lack of a solid form.
She is like light. Fading in and out of sight no matter how hard he tries to focus.
She squeals again, this time as she starts wobbly running after or from someone with her hands held up.
"
Khachi slowly picks up his pace to keep up with her. Though he doesn't need to speed up much.
From her words, he realizes that she must be playing hide-and-seek. However, if this is a game of hide-and-seek, she isn't doing a good job at the hiding part.
As they come across the opening of the cavern from earlier, Khachi jumps slightly out of shock when a figure unexpectedly whisks the child off the ground. The girl screeches out of surprise as she's flying in the air and into the person's arms.
"Found ya, Lil'snowflake," the voice of a young man heartily proclaims, only making the girl laugh even more.
"Again! Again!" The girl cheers in the man's arms.
Khachi observes the scene from the entrance and tries to study the newly arrived figure, but the young man never turns in his direction.
Just like the girl, his body flows between transparency.
Khachi tries to get a closer look, but he missteps and kicks a small stalagmite, breaking it with a loud shatter.
This makes Khachi wince in remorse, for his geology side hates that he destroyed even the smallest part of the cavern, knowing it won't grow back in that spot again. But even with his scholastic mind in grief, he couldn't help being more worried about having disturbed the two figures.
To his relief, the two continue on, unfazed by his commotion. Based on this observation, Khachi reckons that they weren't ghosts at all.
With newfound courage to reveal himself, Khachi walks over to them. Yet, just before he can reach them, they both look toward the tunnel leading to Martagdsan's entrance. Their response to whatever it is appears to be that of one responding to hearing a call.
"
The little girl nods, full of giggles, before taking off and running through the tunnel entrance.
Now worried he'll miss his chance, Khachi speeds up to close the gap between the two, but he dissipates when he comes within reach to go around and look at the man's features. As if he wasn't ever there. A television is being turned off.
Khachi stands there, lost. Not sure what he had witnessed.
Was this a memory the Martagdsan had frozen in time?
Staring into space, Khachi found himself standing in front of the human statue. Gazing upon the aged and faded features.
However, Khachi is one of many things taking his time to observe.
"Why do you keep staring at me?" Khachi's voice rings through the cavern, bouncing off the rock formations. His eyes are still fixated on the statue.
A soft laugh flows through the cavern, bringing with it the being it belongs to. Like water, the ongon from before materializes next to Khachi.
From the moment they met, Khachi could feel the man watching even when he was never visible. Though Khachi never felt threatened or unsettled by it, he found comfort in it—a sense of being protected. So he ignored it until now.
The man steps beside Khachi and looks up at the statue with him. Making it one of the few times he has looked away. "You remind me of my
His younger brother?
"Do I look like him?"
"Not at all," He shakes his head upon answering.
"Similar mannerisms?"
"You two couldn't be more opposite," a longing smile spreads across his lips this time.
Khachi's gaze shifts to the ongon. Confusion coats every part of his expression.
"No," he says, muffling a chuckle. "My eregtei düü was childish, reckless, and lacked responsibility as he never had any given to him. He was always
"A hero built out of a selfish action but an enemy for his selfless ones."
Khachi watches the man, scanning both his facial features and words. The ongon's last sentence confuses him the most. "Shouldn't that be the other way around?"
"Why?" the man turns Khachi's question on him with his own. "A person can unintentionally save people out of a selfish act while one can destroy others in an attempt to always be selfless. There's no such thing as black and white in the ideas of right or wrong. Only judgments made from moments of desperation." His words come out so profound and sure of this way of thought that Khachi feels like he is looking at a thousands of-year-old mentor. And he very well could be. "No one knows what will play out to be right or wrong when protecting others. But one thing for sure, a hero can't be selfless without being selfish first,"
Not once does the ongon look away from the statue. His eyes sweep over all the carvings and elaborate but nature-worn features.
"Is this your brother?" Khachi inquires. He, too, looks the statue over.
"No," a small smile breaks across his face before growing larger as a thought occurs to him. "Though, I suppose part of him is here," he admits before the small throat laugh, which Khachi had picked up on as one of the ongon's ways of quietly laughing, escapes again.
Then how are we alike?
Khachi thinks back through everything said, still feeling like the similarities between him and this ongon's younger brother were never said. He finds it even weirder that he feels the need to know the answer to this seemingly inconsequential comparison. As if there is something rooted deeper in what the ongon was saying by comparing the two.
"You walk the same fate," the man voices as if reading Khachi's thoughts. His tone comes off so grave that when the ongon's dravite-colored eyes stare into his, he isn't able to tell if the shiver he feels running through his body was from Martagdsan's cold finally getting to him or the man's words.
A slight sense of relief falls over Khachi like mist when the ongon turns away from him. His back faces away from Khachi toward the channel back to the living quarters.
"I'll walk back with you" the ongon states, looking back at Khachi over his shoulder.
Without another word, Khachi follows the man as they track their way back. The silence is the first time Khachi feels calm since reaching the Spectral Domains.
Even so, Khachi still walks alongside the ongon, the environment around them peaceful, but his mind rushes like a river over the idea of a forthcoming fate that, even worse, Khachi has no knowledge about.
"That's the thing about fates. Are they predestined futures, or are they influenced by our actions?" the ongon asks. His words break the silence that has been between the two since they started their journey back.
"Which do you believe?" Khachi inquires back. Usually, Khachi would have never asked so many questions in a conversation and relied heavily on the others' reactions to conclude his assumptions. Yet, everything this cryptic being had said contradicted his actions and expressions. At this point, Khachi needs to ask questions to get anything from him. Strangely, he feels comfortable doing so.
"Used to believe everything was predestined," he answers. "I grew up in that kind of environment,"
"Used to?" Khachi asks again, noticing the past tense in his answer.
"You can say my eregtei düü changed how I think about it," he smiles a little at his reply.
"So then, fate is controlled by one's actions," Khachi concludes.
"Or maybe both play a hand, and it's the person's choice and sacrifice that solidifies it," the ongon gives him a glance before making a turn that steers them slightly off the path back to the living quarters.
Khachi stops, watching the man leisurely walking down a new path. One, Khachi didn't see the last time they came through carrying Okin or on his way out to search for the little girl.
After a few seconds of debate, Khachi follows the cryptic being down the new channel. Mainly because Khachi likes to believe the conditions he grew up in led him to have a good understanding of others' characters and intent. And there had been no harm or negative energy from the man thus far for him to feel otherwise in danger.
Just like how the natural moonlight came through when they first approached the living quarters chambers with large window-like openings, another opening did the same at the end of this passage.
The wide entrance showcases the view that Khachi had once watched out of the window opening: a frozen lake shadowed by the night and limited moonlight, now glistening under the morning light. The approach of sunrise gives Khachi the awareness that he had stayed up the entire night.
The landscape runs wide, with crater-shaped, white-capped mountains encasing a rich snow forest along the rock edges. Walking through what appears to be where the forest doesn't cover creates a small open snow field. Looking back over his shoulder, Khachi notices that the open window he had once looked through is not far away.
Staring back in front of him, he took in more of what he thought he could see and hear earlier this morning.
A lake is in the center of the mountains, forest, and the small plain they walked on. Its waters are frozen on the surface, but as they get closer to its edge, the ice crackling and water swaying becomes clearer. At the edge, Khachi pears over and notices small semi-water ice currents moving under the frozen ice.
In awe, Khachi takes in another sweep across the scenery around him.
It's a cryovolcanic! A volcano made of ice? Active but unusually dormant at the same time. How is this even possible?
"What is this place?" Khachi asks in amazement.
"The true center of the Shirüün Övöl or as they call it now, Martagdsan. Though neither of those names truly describe its center properly," the man states as he walks across the lake.
The moment his foot hits the ice, a facade evaporates. A transparent frozen mist that shapes and forms hidden structures that weren't in sight before.
Under his feet, a snow path forms. A large tree forms before him at the center of the massive lake. Its roots dug deep into a small snowy island surrounding it. Every inch of the tree's branches are covered in-
White plum blossoms?
Without another thought, Khachi chases after the ongon and walks across the snowy path toward the tree.
The moment within reach, he holds out his hand and reaches to touch the soft white petals. The same petals he saw before entering and has haunted him since.
Plucking a blossom off, he gently holds it in his hand.
Stopping at the edge, the ongon observes Khachi with a tranquil expression.
Khachi's eyes drifted slightly from the tree to a rock structure standing at waist height. Its form was long and consistent, with a small separation with another rock on top.
Taking a closer look, Khachi realizes that the top rock looks similar to the shape of a plum blossom flower but without its petals and just the center of the flower. Hanging off the side of the more enormous rock, just where the two meet, is a horizontal branch that looks like a balancing scale with two circular bowls hanging off of each side.
Khachi backtracks to the beginning of the snowy path and edge of the island. His eyes take in the entirety of the scene before him.
"The Spectral Gates," He breathes.
"You know your stuff," the ongon compliments. "Not many know its true use; therefore, they only use the harsh environment as its title."
The Spectral Gates!
Khachi repeats as he fights to comprehend the reality of his dwindling collection of bedtime stories of this place in his memories.
"What's your connection to this place?" Khachi mouths.
"Fate," he says, smiling.
Khachi's body moves to look upon and touch the tree's bark. His hand grazes over the trunk's naturally twisted pattern.
"I don't believe I ever asked. What's your na-" Khachi starts to ask and turns around to look at the ongon when he realizes he's gone.
In his place stood the familiar bone-white mask woman. Her appearance looks more haggard than the last time, but nevertheless, chilling. This time, it was colder, like she had a new grudge.
Khachi spins around to face her. His eyes dart toward the distance where the opening back into the caverns could be seen.
"How did you get in?" she asks. Her obsidian, whiteless eyes scan him up and down. "I'm here to return this thing," she sighs, her suspicion becoming boring. She holds up the item she once took.
What does she want?
Khachi thinks while observing her, not liking this sudden change of heart.
"You would be fun to play with, with you being out here, all alone," the cadi laughs, but not long after, the voice turns into a hiss. Her pain from earlier that night pulls her back into check.
Damn that bastard!
The cadi thinks while fighting the pain of the wounds on her neck and arm.
"I simply wanted to look around, but it seems I'm not wanted. A shame. I'll leave this when I go," She states, holding up the bolor laav in her hand.
Turning away to leave, the cadi stops after one step and turns to look at Khachi with a devious smile.
"Oh, tell your little friend she might want to run back home. It seems I wasn't going to be the only one ready to wreak havoc," she laughs, the two-tone screeching that her two contrasting voices make ringing in the air. "Glad I beat them to the punch. Maybe one day your friend will thank me for the brief interference," she leers.
Her mocking laughter echoes through the emptiness of the crater.
"
Like hell I'd want to see you again!
Khachi scrutinizes as she reappears at the entrance. She walks through but doesn't disappear entirely before she throws the bolor laav to the snowy ground just outside the opening.
Khachi lets out a breath of air, hoping to calm his racing heart. Only after what feels like forever does Khachi's body thaw from the petrified state he didn't know he was in.
Deciding to pick up the bolor laav and deliver it back to Khaliun, Khachi heads back to the cave's entrance. Upon making the long trek back, Khachi spots Okin appearing in view of the cave entrance.
Okin's head swings around, looking perplexed at the new location he has stumbled across. He spots Khachi just a few meters away.
"Khachi!" Okin cries out when he notices him walking up.
Khachi picks up the ice-encased lava rock off the ground and holds it out to show Okin.
"Why's that here?" Okin inquires, still standing in the safety of the cave's entrance. He reaches out to touch the bolor laav as soon as Khachi comes within reach.
Something from their left stirs to life when his fingers touch the rock. A grey blur of motion darts straight for the two through the frozen white powder-covered foliage near the crater wall.
In a brief decision, Khachi twists Okin towards him by the wrist, throwing both of them onto the ground. Now, outside the entrance's safety, the two scurry back to their feet.
When moving out of the way, the bolor laav is thrown again.
Back on his feet, Khachi stares into the eyes of a relatively domestic-sized, stubby, grey-furred monal cat. Its eyes are abnormally dark bronze with flicks of gold. The fur pattern has faded due to the current winter conditions. The cat makes deep-throated hissing sounds in their direction.
Slowly, Khachi tries to reach for the bolor laav, but the closer he attempts to get it, the more the monal reacts. With Okin behind him, Khachi debates leaving it for now, thinking the animal has no use for it. Yet, the animal's reaction makes it hard for Khachi to believe it would still be here if they did.
"Oh nah!" Okin shouts, grabbing onto Khachi's back. "If I don't look, I don't see it. If I don't look, I don't see it,"
We've seen a cadi, oreks, and even an ongon, but a cat has you scared out of your mind?
Khachi wonders. Now curious to set a mental note on the possibility of Okin having trauma or fear of some animals.
"Khachi, how are we going to get around that wild thing?!" Okin whines.
The monal stops hissing, its head held high as if offended.
With the cat distracted, Khachi lunches for the bolor laav. But the cat proves to have faster reflexes and snatches it with its mouth, darting into the nearest large bush for cover. Its grey-white fur blends into the snowy hiding place.
Okin shouts in surprise before continuing to coward behind Khachi.
With the animal gone, Khachi tries to comfort Okin, but it doesn't last long when the foliage starts to shake.
"I'm not some wild thing," a male voice snaps. Out of the shrubs that the monal cat ran into comes a young man. Even if I was, I have a name. Everything does," his voice comes out in a tone of superiority.
The man appears to be somewhere between Khachi's and Okin's age. His hair is short and dark golden grey. His eyes are the same bronze Khachi stared into earlier with the monal. The clothing appears to be made from the same grey fluffy fur with an identical lack of pattern. The air around him is thick with egotistical mannerisms.
"It's Dawa," He announces, tossing the bolor laav in his hand and heavily glaring at Okin.