The shaman speaks quickly, desperately. This is not the kind of speech I expected at the beginning of a feast. Or how I expected a leader to talk to outsiders the moment they arrived. There are other jonungaard in a circle around us, but they focus on their own discussions.

Hearn stood up the moment the shaman started talking and is going around the circle, pressing his hands together in greeting with the others. Some hug him. All have something to say to him. A young man slaps Hearn on the back, raising his glass in a toast. A woman, maybe the man's wife, looks at the ground, offering Hearn a loaf of dark bread held with both hands. All the jonungaard look thin and frail.

"Hearn told us of your troubles," Rworg says. "We will help if we are able."

I haven't even noticed his accent for a while anymore, but the formal way he talks makes it stand out. The harsh consonants and the rolling Rs. With the shaman's casual and hasty speech with its odd intonation, the discussion would be fun to listen to if the stakes weren't this high. Again.

"Though we have no idea what it would mean," Finna says. "I'm still not completely sure what we're doing. Especially as our original plan went down the privy already."

The shaman chuckles, shrugging her shoulders. "We are all in the dark here, figuratively and literally. I don't know if you can help us, and yet, I'm asking you to."

Rworg nods. "Of course."

I agree that we should help if we can, but "of course" still feels a bit premature. I take a deep breath. It's time to get to the bottom of this. "I will explain what happened up there," I say. "I'm not sure how it can be connected to what is happening here, but maybe it will make more sense to you."

Finna bites at her lip and glances at me, her eyes flicking over for a second.

"Please, tell me," the shaman says. "I understand your hesitation, but we are a dwindling people. The lights of our city are going out, like we are. We have no energy to waste. We have waited decades with nothing to show for it. If you bring even a remote chance of change, we won't squander it."

I nod, setting my jaw tight. I hope she's right. At least there aren't any weapons anywhere, and they all do look pretty scrawny if I'm being honest. Maybe our actions in Kerthar were what caused the mess down here, but maybe it won't matter. We are still their best bet of fixing the problem as well.

While I'm thinking, a platter of food is brought before all of us. It looks like a pretty decent meal. Roasted mushrooms and root vegetables, drizzled with some kind of oil. I'm so hungry, my mouth starts watering immediately, even if the food itself doesn't really resemble what I expected a feast would be. The happy sighs and coos sounding from all around the circle of jonungaard make it clear that my expectations might not matter.

"Told you it's going to be mushrooms," Finna whispers to Rworg.

He barks a laugh and grabs a fork, licking his lips.

I start talking.

The meal is done, as is my story. I told them about the Kertharian attack, the plan to stop it, and how we learned of the repercussions of the plan. It seems they still remember the world above. The shaman introduced herself as Henna at some point. She knows Tenorsbridge and Kerthar are real places, even if none of the jonungaard have obviously visited them.

She doesn't seem angry or shocked, just sad. She eats her food, one tiny nibble at a time, listening with a sad expression.

"The fate of the Kertharians saddens me. I'm sorry for your people," Henna says, lowering her head at Rworg.

Rworg bows at her, not saying anything.

"To be gripped with such hate, made to lust for blood. It is unthinkable," she continues. "I hope thirty years will be enough to find a cure."

Oh, so that was what she meant, specifically. Maybe being frozen for thirty years is not such a shocking idea to people who can go on a week's trip and return to find years have passed.

Henna presses her hands together, steepling her fingers. Her palms make a harsh rasping sound against each other. "The Monolith is not known to us, save for our few patrols there. The world we live in has changed over the past decades. The black building pushed through into this cavern over years, some decades ago."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"How can a corridor push through into a cavern over years?" Finna asks. She has already eaten everything and licked her plate clean as well. Her eyes wander over the empty plates before each of us. Guess we were all equally hungry this time.

"It was during the time the tremors happened," Henna says. "It affected time. Some people on the far farm died, feet crumpling, the rest of them falling to the ground and turning to dust as they fell. The plants exploded into a jungle, covering the remains and then turning brown and turning to dust as well. Elsewhere, others froze in place for years. Living warnings not to approach, slowly moving toward the city one step a month."

Hearn sits down next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Some people went to their loved ones. I will never forget it. The fear in the eyes of the people frozen, the gradual change to happiness as someone came to lead them back, they both slowing down to be together."

Henna nods. Her eyes glisten, and she blinks. "I still remember that. The--"

"One couple spent a year sharing a kiss. The poor guy grabbed her butt. We're still teasing them about it," Hearn says, talking over the shaman.

"Hearn, are you drunk already?" Henna says. She grabs the old man's head under her arm and crunches it under her armpit. "Behave in front of our guests."

Finna laughs. Rworg chuckles. I guess people are people everywhere. Hearn makes a muffled sound, slapping the ground in a sign of surrender.

"Ahem, if you managed to get close enough to see all that, the changes in time must have been sharp?" I ask.

Henna releases Hearn. His cheeks are rosy. She rolls her eyes with a smile playing on her lips as Hearn scuttles to sit next to Rworg. He slaps the old man on the back.

"Yes," she says, nodding. "Mostly the effects have dispersed, but there are still areas that are dangerously... different," she finishes after a moment of thinking.

Even after living a decade with the time issues, the jonungaard haven't thought up good words to talk about them, either. It's important to know that we still have to be careful. I remember Mandollel's warning, and the story about people turning to dust sounds awful.

"The people on the farm. Why did their feet disappear?" Finna asks.

I turn to glare at her, maybe even tell her to shut up before she offends someone, but she's serious. Her eyes are squinted, and she leans forward toward the shaman.

"The tremors must have pushed ambronite up toward us in one place while making it fall away in another. The shape of the deposits affects the shape of the effect. We have theorized the ambronite has sheared into sharply defined blocks."

Finna leans back, pouting and pushing her mouth to the side. She wrinkles her nose. "So we could all just turn to dust at any moment?"

Hearn waves a hand, spluttering his lips. "Naah, that hasn't happened for decades."

"He's right. Whatever happened hasn't continued," Henna says.

They might be right, or possibly not. I have no idea how what we did in Kerthar could have moved ambronite somewhere deep underground or caused tremors. But based on what Lictor told us, it's not over.

I take a drink from the cup of mild wine they brought us. It tastes 's a bit like mushrooms, but I hide the grimace. "The Monolith is still sucking out mana from the earth. Maybe it's pulling up the ambronite somehow?"

Henna leans back on both hands, braids hanging to touch the stone floor of the cavern. "Your guess is the first we have that's based on at least something. None of the people who left to explore further into the Monolith have returned."

"They might still be out there," Hearn says, gaze stuck on the floor between his feet. "Stuck in time."

"They might," the shaman says. "For the last decade, we haven't gone far enough to try to find out."

The mood has shifted again. The other jonungaard in the circle have been bantering, but then some start to sing. The discussions die down as people start to listen. The song is slow and wistful, the words a tale of years lived in the dark and the beauty of the hidden stars.

"Beautiful," Rworg says after the first song ends. "We do not know much of the Monolith ourselves. Yet, we will search it. For your missing people, if for nothing else."

I nod as Henna turns to face us once more. "He is right. I just hope we will be in time for it to help you and your city."

Henna does the jonungaard greeting to us, two hands held up, palms toward herself. "Thank you. You have to understand our situation. Slow dwindling is still better than the thought of being lost and finding only dust when you return. We will eke out our days here, together. But if you can go in our place, we will remember you. Even if you return in a thousand years, Jonun will greet you like the friends you are."

Finna flicks her hair and brushes it off her face. I think she wipes at the corner of her eye as she does. "At least you'd have enough time to grow more food for that time," she mutters, then looks up. "There's really nothing you can tell us? About magic or mana or time or ambronite or the stupid black corridors?"

"I can tell you a lot about the stupid corridors!" Hearn says. "Just spent four years in them."

"For you, it was a week," Henna says, rolling her eyes.

She reminds me of Lille. Even with being the leader of these people, she's direct and casual. She doesn't pretend to be more important than she is because she doesn't need to. I wish I were back home. It's been so long. A lot longer for me than for them, though. Maybe I won't shave. I'll grow a big, long beard, and everyone will be confused when I get back after a week. I look into the cup of wine. Perhaps it wasn't that mild after all.

"Hearn can tell you about the corridors. He has been patrolling them more than any of us. But about magic..." Henna says and leans closer to Finna, splaying her fingers toward her. She moves her hand, and every finger draws a different glowing symbol into the air. "About magic, I can tell you a lot."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.