Chapter 45| What the Elder Knows
Morning arrived with the harsh amber sky bleeding into something closer to gold, and Sera returned shortly after dawn, gesturing for them to follow her toward the elder’s dwelling near the encampment’s center.
The elder, whose name Sera translated haltingly as something close to Mother Ash, sat waiting beside a small fire, an assortment of carved bone tokens arranged before her with clear, deliberate purpose. She gestured for them to sit, and once they’d settled, began speaking slowly, pausing frequently for Sera’s careful, halting translation.
"This world," Sera relayed, "not always like this. Once, much bigger. Much... green. Mother Ash remember stories from her mother’s mother. Before the sky broke."
"The sky broke?" Myria asked, leaning forward with sharp, focused attention.
Sera exchanged a few words with the elder before continuing. "Something happen, long time past. World start... shrinking. Dying. Green become sand. Sandwalkers come after. They were not always here. They came when the world started dying."
"What exactly are Sandwalkers?" Vivian asked carefully.
Mother Ash’s expression shifted at the question, something old and weary crossing her weathered features even before Sera finished translating. "Not people," Sera said. "Not beasts either. Something between. They hunt in packs, beneath sand, strike without warning. Very dangerous. Very fast. My people lose many warriors to them, every season."
"And the Desert Elves?" Myria pressed. "Sera mentioned them last night."
A ripple of tension passed visibly through the gathered warriors standing near the dwelling’s entrance at the mention, and Mother Ash’s expression hardened considerably before she responded, voice carrying an edge that needed no translation to understand.
"Sandwalker people," Sera said slowly. "Not truly. But not friend either. Long ago, one people. Split, generations past, after the sky broke. My people stayed close to earth, to old ways. Elf people went underground, changed themselves, changed their magic, to survive the dying world differently." She hesitated, clearly choosing her next words with care. "There is... old anger. Old blame. Each side believe other side responsible for what world became."
Allen absorbed the information carefully, pieces of a considerably larger, older tragedy beginning to take shape. "You said the world started dying after the sky broke. Do you know what actually happened?"
Mother Ash’s response, once translated, carried a weight that settled heavily over the small gathering.
"A tear," Sera said. "Like the one that brought you here. But bigger. Much bigger. It never closed. Whatever came through it, whatever it took when it opened — my people believe it took the world’s heart. Everything since has been slow dying."
Myria’s expression had gone carefully, dangerously calculating, the same look she wore when assembling the pieces of a particularly complex strategic puzzle. "A permanent, unclosed rift," she said slowly. "That’s not supposed to be possible. Every rift the Association has ever documented closes once its dungeon core is destroyed, or stabilizes into a contained pocket dimension like whatever pulled us here."
"Unless," Vivian said grimly, "something’s actively preventing this one from closing."
Mother Ash spoke again, and this time, her weathered hand extended, pressing one of the carved bone tokens into Allen’s palm with clear, deliberate intention.
"She says," Sera translated, voice carrying a note of solemn weight, "that you carry something unusual. Power that does not belong to this world’s normal patterns. She has seen it in very few outsiders before. She believes you might be able to do what none of my people, none of the Elf people, have managed in generations."
"What’s that?" Allen asked, turning the small bone token over in his palm, feeling a faint, unfamiliar warmth emanating from its surface.
"Close the tear," Sera said simply. "Heal what’s been dying since before any of us were born."
The weight of the request settled heavily over the small gathering, and Allen glanced toward his wives — Myria’s sharp, calculating focus already turning toward the strategic implications, Irene’s usual restless energy stilled into rare, serious attention, Everlyn’s quiet, steady compassion evident even without words, Vivian’s careful, protective watchfulness never fully leaving him even in this moment of solemn revelation.
"I don’t know if I can do that," Allen said honestly, meeting Mother Ash’s ancient, weary gaze directly. "But I promise you this. Whatever we’re capable of, we won’t leave this world worse than we found it. If there’s a way to help, we’ll find it."
Mother Ash studied him for a long, considering moment before nodding slowly, something like cautious hope flickering behind her weathered features for the first time since they’d arrived.
"Then perhaps," Sera translated, quiet reverence coloring her halting words, "the sky sent us exactly who we needed, after all this time."
Outside the dwelling, the twin moons had fully faded against the brightening amber sky, and Allen felt the small bone token grow warmer in his palm, a faint, resonant hum building beneath his skin — the unmistakable, familiar pulse of the Investment Returns System stirring to sudden, urgent life.
Investment Detected: Milestone — Accepted responsibility for a world’s survival beyond personal or party interest.
Sincerity: Absolute. Emotional Impact: Absolute.
Reward Generated: 3,000 Investment Points.
Allen barely registered the notification, too focused on the quiet, desperate hope in Mother Ash’s ancient eyes, and the growing, unshakeable certainty that whatever this world actually needed from them, they were about to find out exactly how far they’d have to go to provide it.
"There’s something else," Myria said quietly, once Mother Ash had risen to attend to other matters, leaving the five of them alone with Sera near the dying fire. "If this rift has been open for generations, feeding whatever’s causing the world to slowly die, that means it isn’t behaving like any dungeon rift the Association has ever catalogued. Standard rifts don’t sustain themselves indefinitely without an active core somewhere maintaining them."
"Meaning there’s a core," Vivian said, following the logic immediately. "Something at the heart of whatever tore this world open in the first place, still active after however many generations have passed."
"If we’re going to have any chance of closing it," Myria continued, "we’ll need to find that core first. Which means understanding this world’s geography, its dangers, and ideally, gaining some insight from the Desert Elves as well, given their own history with whatever happened."
Sera’s expression grew troubled at the suggestion. "Elf people not welcome outsiders easily," she warned. "Especially outsiders who first meet Barbarian people. Old suspicion runs deep on both sides."
"Then we’ll need to be careful how we approach them," Allen said, turning the bone token over once more in his palm before tucking it carefully into his pocket. "But if there’s any chance of actually fixing this, of giving both your people something better than another generation of slow dying, it’s worth the risk."
Sera studied him for a long moment, something like genuine, cautious respect flickering behind her dark eyes. "My people will help however we can," she said finally. "Ashkar will want to guide you himself, once Mother Ash grants permission. He does not trust easily, but he respects courage. You earned some of that already, yesterday."
"Then let’s not waste the goodwill," Irene said, some of her usual restless energy returning now that the weight of the elder’s revelation had settled into something resembling an actual plan. "Where do we start?"
"Rest first," Sera said firmly, echoing her advice from the night before with the same quiet authority. "Journey to Elf lands is long, dangerous. Sandwalker territory between here and there. You will need strength, and my people’s guidance, before you attempt such a crossing."
Allen nodded, glancing around at his wives — exhaustion and quiet determination mingling in each of their expressions — and felt the shape of their next steps settling into place, however uncertain the path ahead remained.
"Then we rest," he said. "And tomorrow, we start figuring out how to save this world properly."