“Shit,” Glenn whispered.

  He grunted and wiped the sleep off his eyes. The restful slumber did its job, filling Glenn with energy. But it didn’t help with the pain and aches from the previous day’s activities. And that was without counting the bad trip down memory lane.

  Glenn stood and stretched, hearing a few cracks. He was still in Jefferson Howard’s tent, the Seeker of New and Old—whatever that meant.

  Sadly, it meant that this whole horrible adventure was no nightmare. It was reality. His reality, now.

  It had been more than a day since he arrived in this world, and he was parched. Glenn picked up Jefferson Howard’s journal and left the tent. He took a torch from a nearby pillar, ignited it, and opened the book.

  “Let’s see if that guy’s final words are worth anything…” he said aloud as his steps echoed in the wide, stone chamber. He assumed they were his last words. If Jefferson was alive, Glenn would have met him by now, right?

  Yeah, he’s probably dead.

  Glenn prepared to strain his eyes once more in order to understand the foreign language, only to be pleasantly surprised. Where it took multiple tries to read a single word previously, it was now as easy as reading English.

  That, and understanding the rantings of that tentacle monster yesterday… Glenn rubbed his temples.

  Something is helping me get acclimated to this world. Something… Or someone. I could put my hand to the fire that it’s the result of the same higher power who brought me here… He shook his head, sifting through the notebook as he explored the chamber.

  24.11.30—I found them! The ruins of the Moon Cult! I knew it existed! Mark my words, this day will signify the birth of the legendary Seeker, Jefferson Howard!

  The only issue is that there doesn’t appear to be an exit. The entry hall seems to have been connected to other hallways, but the structure must have collapsed in the past. There’s only one way to go, but I have a bad feeling… For now, I’ll try to decipher these engravings. They should tell me more about this place…

  Glenn frowned and looked up from the notebook, raising his torch to examine the walls.

  He indeed found writing on the walls in a foreign and incomprehensible language. When concentrating on them, he learned his translation ability was limited.

  “That’s too bad…” He sighed before resuming his reading.

  25.11.30—Hmm… I’ll need more time to decipher the engravings. Discovering what lies down that unexplored tunnel might take my priority. I only have a month’s worth of supplies, after all.

  Glenn waved his torch around, soon finding the mentioned pathway. Engravings covered the stone floor and even ceiling, filling every available space. He tried to peer through the darkness, but his eyes couldn’t pierce it. It seemed like this hallway went much deeper than he expected.

  26.11.30—This place is clearly connected to the Moon Rift. The few words I managed to decipher all spoke of the same thing—the moons grant their ‘gifts’. It’s referencing the wonders that fell from the blood moon—the Fallen Pieces and the Fallen Ones.

  Either this cult was created around some mysterious item, a Fallen Piece of great power. Or a living being. A Fallen One. Hoho, imagine that. I would love to meet one of those guys, even if they’re practically myths at this point. What with all the weird stories surrounding their apparition.

  I’m almost certain that this crystal is a Fallen Piece, though I have yet to confirm it. Still no exit in sight, so I’ll keep researching for now. Not like I can do anything else.

  “The Moon Rift… That’s the strange void that nearly killed me.” Glenn paused. “Fallen Pieces and Fallen Ones… Could I be a Fallen One? I did wake up during a blood moon…”

  He sighed and glanced at the dark hallway. His heart tightened as he slowly came to terms with Jefferson Howard’s words.

  Still no exit in sight.

  “Fuck no…” he muttered as he steeled himself and entered the hall, stepping over the engravings covering the floor.

  30.11.30—The water was safe, thankfully. Testing it on myself was dangerous, but considering I haven’t managed to dig my way out, knowing I have a good water supply is nice. I couldn’t repeat that interaction with the pedestal, and I’m still hesitant to touch that crystal.

  Glenn’s eyes lit up. Water? He gave up on reading and ran, his dry throat giving him more than enough motivation to reach the prophesied fountain. It took well over half an hour of running until he eventually found a white, faint glow coming from the end of the corridor.

  His heart filled with excitement, and he quickened his pace. Eager to quench his thirst, Glenn stepped inside the chamber, and he wasn’t disappointed.

  A massive crystal—as tall as a multi-story home—shone like moonlight above a pristine pool. The shimmering reflection glimmered across the water’s surface, casting strange but relaxing shapes on the walls.

  Glenn dropped his torch. It rolled into the water, but he didn’t care. The torch’s light was nothing compared to the crystal’s.

  There was a pulse coming off it, pumping through the ground quite similar to bass at a concert. A rocky pathway reached across the pond all the way to the prism with a stone pedestal at its end. All of it echoed the notebook’s contents.

  This crystal… It’s the same kind as the smaller gem that almost rained on top of me… Was it drawn to this larger one?

  “Does it attract Fallen Pieces like a magnet?” He questioned aloud, his voice echoing through the room.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Approaching the crystal carefully, he observed the sanctum’s layout. There were two more hallways—left and right—but both had collapsed long ago. Glenn drew closer to see whether digging a way out was possible.

  He couldn’t feel any wind passing through, nor hear a hissing breeze, so it was highly unlikely he’d find an exit. The opposite passageway was in the same condition. Glenn frowned.

  “How the hell am I supposed to get out of here, then?” He wondered, a tinge of nascent worry poisoning his mind. He turned back to the pool with a grimace.

  “Jefferson said it was safe to drink… Now, should I trust a probably dead stranger’s words or not? That’s the question…” Glenn muttered as he crouched in front of the pond.

  There wasn’t dirt or even a hint of moss growing along the pool’s edge. It was the cleanest water he had ever seen. He reached with a hesitant hand, sensing its chilling touch.

  Despite his reservations, Glenn brought the water to his mouth. The human body couldn’t survive more than seventy-two hours without drinking. Time was ticking, and he was already experiencing symptoms of dehydration. Dry throat, headaches, sluggish thoughts… All things considered, he didn’t have a choice.

  “Here goes nothing.” He closed his eyes, pressing his lips against cold water. It was revitalizing, as if he had just eaten ice cream on the hottest day of summer.

  The feeling was so purifying, all the aches he suffered from washed away. Glenn didn’t move for a few seconds, reflecting, before drinking more.

  After the second gulp, all of his pain disappeared. That uncomfortable sting in his lower back? Gone. That cramp in his neck? Gone too.

  “What kind of weird fuckery is this…” Glenn said, unable to believe his senses.

  Using the crystal’s light, he continued reading the notebook.

  xx.xx.xx—I no longer know the date. And my sleep schedule provides no clues.

  “Only a Fallen One shall harness the power of the sky…” Fallen One my ass! I made groundbreaking discoveries. I can’t die here! Just the news that Still Peak is a Fallen Piece is enough to get the Seekers to support my efforts!

  Glenn paused, rubbed his eyes, and reread the passage. But the words didn’t change. The mountain he was standing inside currently was… a Fallen Piece?

  As in, a mountain fell from the sky?

  “What the fuck?” he blurted out in disbelief. Does gravity not work the same in this world? Wouldn’t such a fall be enough to level the entire region, or worse?

  Fuck… I don’t know anymore…

  At first, Jefferson’s penmanship had been clean and easy to understand, but now, it was written with a trembling hand.

  xx.xx.xx—I haven’t eaten in… at least a week. But I’ll risk my life to return to King’s Rise. I’ll prove that my dad is a monster, get rid of his bitch, and lead the Howard Barony back to become a County!

  Glenn whistled, impressed. So the author was from a noble family. That was good news. Jefferson also hated his father, which Glenn could understand all too well. The one thing that did worry him slightly was the Seeker’s lack of food.

  “If I understood correctly, Jefferson struggled for weeks to find an exit, and failed. Where did he end up then…?” He whispered as he glanced around the room.

  It didn’t matter how hard he tried to look away, his eyes kept returning to the massive, white crystal pulsing rhythmically. He flipped through the notebook’s pages, but beyond that last paragraph, there were only copies of the engravings on the walls—and notes questioning their meaning.

  Glenn stashed the journal into his coat. He walked on the stone pathway, approaching the prism. His heart skipped a beat when he found a pile of clothes laying beside the pedestal.

  Those garments were eerily similar to the ones he was currently wearing.

  “No fucking way…” He heaved as he crouched in front of the pile, picking up a shirt with a trembling hand.

  A fistful of soot fell from the fabric with a silent, yet ominous rustle. Glenn tumbled back with dread, his hands still covered in the only remains of Jefferson Howard.

  Dark, thick, and sticky ashes.

  “Fuck!” he blurted out as he used the pedestal to pull himself up and away from the ash. His fingers slid against a large run etched into it, and a thundering voice rang in his head.

  “Only a Fallen One shall harness the power of the sky. To dust you shall go back if you’re not the promised one.”

  Glenn jumped away in fright, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He looked around the chamber in fear, ready to draw his weapon, but there was no one else with him. Sweat pearled down his forehead as his chest tightened.

  A fucking talking pedestal?

  Chuckling nervously, Glenn suddenly understood what had happened.

  “‘To dust you shall go back’, huh?” He glanced at the pile of ashes and his stomach churned. “…Shit.”

  He shook his head and retrieved the notebook, giving it another read, but he couldn’t find anything new.

  “This fucking…” Glenn sat on the floor and rubbed his temples. The pedestal said that only a ‘Fallen One shall harness the power of the sky’.

  That ‘power of the sky’ is probably the crystal. And a Fallen One should be a living being that has fallen from the Moon Rift. Jefferson came to the same conclusion, yet he still tried to touch the damned gem because he was trapped for weeks without food. And he died. Fuck.

  Glenn yanked on his hair in despair. What the hell was he supposed to do?

  “Phew…” He drew in a deep breath. Panicking and losing his mind wouldn’t help him avoid Jefferson’s mistakes. First, he glanced at the pile of clothes and steeled himself. He took it away from the crystal, refusing to stay close to something that had the capability to reduce him to ashes.

  He ignored his disgust and sifted through the threads.

  “The same as in the chest… He wasn’t exactly an original gentleman…” Glenn noticed before finding a small pouch.

  Opening it up half-heartedly, he noted it was completely empty. He sighed and tied the pouch to his belt.

  “If I survive, I’ll be sure to make better use of this than you ever did, Jefferson…” Glenn muttered with a deep sigh.

  Would it be far-fetched to consider himself a Fallen One? After all, he wasn’t from this world, woke up under the blood—no, the Moon Rift—and something special was helping him endure with the temporary healing and language comprehension ability.

  He looked at the white mineral dreadfully. Glenn wasn’t a gambler, but between touching a potentially deadly prism or spending weeks dying of hunger, one sadly sounded better than the other.

  “All or nothing… Fuck, that’s why I don’t like gambling…” Glenn chewed on his lower lip.

  He walked up to the pulsing gem, his heartbeat accelerating. He stopped right before it, and he closed his eyes.

  It took him a few seconds before he could open them again, his gaze resolute. He clenched his teeth tightly and pressed his left hand against the crystal.

  Either it worked or it didn’t. Jefferson had been abundantly clear in his journal.

  Glenn’s fingers brushed against the surface of the crystal, sending an icy chill through his veins. The experience was inexplicable, indescribable, and simply otherworldly. Somehow, it felt like he had been purified. Was that how it felt to die? Pure?

  Energy surged through his body, leaving him simultaneously exhilarated and drained.

  “Wow…” He gasped.

  His mouth felt like cotton, and his tongue went stiff. Suddenly, his legs gave out, and his consciousness faded. His strength waned as he lost the fight and collapsed. With a desperate hope that he wouldn’t share the same fate as Jefferson Howard—the Seeker—he succumbed to the darkness.

  way too long. 5266 words, to be precise. Well, it wasn't initially so big, but then I had a nice suggestion from a fellow author, then I went through some edits, then I rewrote the whole thing, and now...now it's sitting there with way too many words. Anyway, it is what it is.

  but! It didn't make sense narratively. So I placed it here, placed the flashback bit into chapter seven, and added a few little things, which brought the chapter to its current size. It's a one time thing that breaks the regular 2-3000 words I try to respect, but well, I don't want to cut it in two. So there you go!