Stigma

Nastal walked with the priest of the temple through the vast halls. Candles burned in various corners, sometimes in clusters, sometimes scattered, illuminating different aspects of the enormous temple.

"Do you have enough helpers to maintain all this, Your Eminence?"

"Of course, Nastal. The young men you provide are most capable. There is no need for formalities between us. I am still Athaldos."

"The Scepter," Nastal said with a laugh. The priest didn't seem to mind.

"I suppose that's how the younger generations address me."

"And the older ones."

"So be it. What are you seeking here, Nastal?"

The two men paused. Athaldos lifted his lantern, casting light on Nastal's face—hard lines on an old, frightened visage that had lost its youthful softness.

"Answers, my friend. I have questions that haunt me."

They continued forward, and Athaldos opened a huge metal door.

"Questions?"

"About what has happened in the South Seas in recent years."

They entered another vast room. A fountain stood in the middle, surrounded by many plants. Here, light streamed through glass panes, rendering the lantern less necessary. But Nastal's eyes were not what they once were, and he would need to read a lot.

"I'm not sure what you're referring to. A lot has happened in our seas."

"But not in the Vespia Sea."

Athaldos paused, and Nastal saw fear in his eyes.

"What are you digging at, old friend?"

"I need to know, Athaldos. Strange things are happening in Ayaton and beyond. I need to understand the past to predict the future."

"Pff. You've always overestimated your abilities, Nastal. Tell me, have you managed to convince our queen?"

"About what?"

Athaldos did not continue, but Nastal became angry, feeling his ears burn.

"Many died in Vespia," Athaldos finally said.

"Many," Nastal agreed, "but some survived."

"Some?"

"A Gargoyle. It was washed out to sea. Darmakaya."

Athaldos was surprised.

"Darmakaya? The pirate? I suppose the worst ones always survive."

"Yes, perhaps. I don't know," Nastal admitted. "He seems different to me. I think much has happened since he survived the ocean. There are forces above the island, dark ones that I believe are pulling the strings."

"Powers? Strings? Be careful of the words you use here, Nastal. Within these walls, we are safe. But the legends of what lurks in the streets around the temple are not without foundation. Such a place draws all sorts of... powers!"

Nastal shuddered and said a small prayer.

They passed through another hall.

"You must be very careful here, Nastal. Normally, I don't allow anyone to carry a live flame in this area."

Athaldos slowly lifted the lantern, revealing shelves stacked with books and scrolls, seemingly endless, in a room so large it made the libraries of Rose pale in comparison.

"Follow me," said Athaldos.

"Years ago, you told me about Arsik Derois. The young man who led Karadra and her crew to Taarum."

"That's right. Arsik survived. The wave washed him ashore in Ayaton, but we never saw him again. The others all died."

"Everyone," Athaldos agreed. "But Arsik's rage remained. Ayaton could not hold him, and so he continued. He traveled with a company, the Salt Theatre."

"I know of them. They travel the islands and other kingdoms, performing. They say their music has magic."

"It holds great power too, Nastal. Did Arsik also wield the Black Violin?"

"The what?"

Nastal froze.

"What is it?"

"The violin... I can hear it. I mean, I think I can. Through the waves. There's a melody. I don't know what it means. It's like a lament."

Athaldos remained thoughtful.

"It's difficult to get clear answers to such questions. The violin is ancient. The woman who wielded it acquired it from Endorious. The magic of the elves of Arcanara lies within it, the magic of their old queen."

"The Amar, An-Kaless-Na."

"I would be careful of the names I utter here, old friend. The gods are always listening within these walls. Arsik and the Theatre traveled, and the songs they performed told just that story—the story of Karadra and Taarum and the lost souls in the depths of the Vespia Sea. They were trying to rally people, you see. Arsik was seeking reinforcements, wanting to start a revolution, to gather an army, to return to the Vespia Sea and avenge the monster in the ocean's depths."

"And? Did he find it?"

"An army? No. But he found something much better, something much more powerful." The priest's eyes glowed in the darkness. He led Nastal to a wall. In the wall were recesses, and within each recess, there was a round, colorful stone, small enough to fit in the palm of a hand.

"You will not read, my friend. You will see. But I warn you—you must be ready."

Nastal prayed aloud and, with a trembling hand, took the orb that Athaldos indicated.