Who Knows Where

by WindigogoGadget

Who Knows Where?

The kid stands at the center of a plaza, floating above the void. For the most part, it was walled off with buildings that lead nowhere in particular, and the only recognizable thing being a statue dedicated to the Star Of Caelondia, an outstretched hand holding a cog, the City Crest. There were some stone paths, a single tree, and grass patches, but aside from that it was nothing special.

Such was his dream. Specifically, the kinds where he used his mind as a proving ground for his fighting skills. One could call him a lucid dreamer, but the reality was it'd only really kick in with the help of a little something. So it was weird, out of place, to see this instead of something else. He'd probably get stirred from his dream when his body slammed into the ground again in the waking world, but until then he settled to sit tight, and he closed his eyes.

---

His eyes open, and he fully expects to wake up, and still nothing. Weird. He was still breathing and thinking, so as far as he cared he was still alive. Stuck in a dream but alive, unless the afterlife got ripped up by the Calamity as well.

Calamity... What a terrible event. Even harder to believe it happened a little less than a year ago, finding materials to keep their safe haven up took up a fraction of that time, a month at most of the work and constant fighting through shattered wilds and cities. Part of him regrets what he's done to get this far if only a little.

I'll see you in the next one...

For reasons unknown to him, he felt as though he was justified in not using the restorative function that the Bastion had. A weird sense of deja-vu in every step he had like he'd done the same song and dance with a few steps out of place and a bit of new dialog. But that just brought up some uncomfortable feelings... If he truly had gone back and done it all before then why didn't the feeling only show up during the calamity, why didn't he feel it all his life? How much had actually changed?

How much could have been prevented?

Rondy always wanted his ashes scattered here

How many could have lived if he remembered? If it had worked?

The Tunder Brothers...

The sight of four men, well-dressed with tall, proud top hats, all petrified and standing in place, gets brought to the forefront of his dreams, and it's all he can see. Frozen forever in a single moment.

Didnt make it.

They never were able to see what it was like beyond the cities walls, and they never will. He feels himself crack as the sight of plain frozen faces starts to surround him, and he finds himself back in the hanging gardens of Caelondia. Many were familiar to him in some way, and he has half a mind to strike them with his hammer and send them along with the rest of the ashes in the broken sky.

He doesn't much care to see 'em. Not like this.

He wanders the blue and white tile idly, trying to get his mind off things, to break the dream, the emotions that were bubbling up. Even just catching a glimpse of a person frozen in place like nothing wrong was happening was enough to make him freeze in place.

Nordy the bird boy...

Spotting the scene of another kid, maybe a few years younger than him just enjoying his time with a flock of birds, all washed out in monochrome and stained black with an ashy texture, destroying any previous trace of what material his shoes were, the color of his skin and hair, along with many defining details, save for his silhouette and pose.

He didn't make it.

Others his age were lucky enough to not have to transcribe themselves in military service just to scrape by.

And then... His gut ties into a knot, and he feels himself be engulfed by a deep pit of dread. His eyes were dull and lacked the determined fire they always blazed with no matter what. The Kid spots the core just inches away from him and can see nothing else. Nothing else except for the crowd of people, men, women, children, all surrounding the floating, brilliant blue core in a mixture of awe and prayer, some even placing a few things at the edge of the clustering gemstone's shadow.

He needs that core. He knows exactly what he needs to do. And with practiced skill, he draws his hammer, feeling more weighted than usual, like his strength was receding to stop him, to make him reconsider.

Kid does what he has to do.

The crowd disperses into ash, and the dread stops as he reaches out for the core, only for it to be filled with a familiar sense of uncertainty and worry. The dreams were walking him down his worst memories, casting him further into his dark abyss of unsettled feelings and transient thoughts.

And then it stops.

He isn't complaining though, he's quite glad to not have to deal with the situation and is content to bury it all back to the depths of his mind, slamming into any corners and recesses to disperse it thoroughly. But he's confused as to what's pulled him out of it. Looking around he finds himself in a plain grassy field, with the cities walls behind, made of heavy stone masonry and concrete, enforced and buttressed with ornate but efficient and effective bronze-colored alloy, with almost a gold-like luster and sheen to it.

Then he spots it, a giant horse that looked like it was cut straight out of the fabric of a night sky. The mane of the being flowed with the breeze of wind only it could detect, as the grass near it was unmoved, and as much as he thought it could pass as assistance from Yudrig, it certainly wasn't any help from the morning stallion that dragged him out of his stupor of turmoil, this horse seemed to be the complete opposite of how anyone would imagine them.

So naturally, he starts running after them for some answers, but the night-pony just takes flight, and he's left alone in the field again with nothing but his thoughts, and the sight of a marshal's badge in his hand instead of his hammer.

...Better wake up soon.

---

Yudrig - God of Impulse and Bravery

"The Morning Stallion affects the wishes of all people upon the break of each new day."

Every time the stallion stomps its hoof, someone out there makes up their mind. While not typically prayed to, it's still recognized for those who need a bit of bravery in their hearts and decisions, and a few reigns to temper the impulse of arrogant men and women.

Author's Note:

Remember to read center-focused words in italic in the voice of Rucks, a narrational voice close to Morgan Freemans, its best you take a listen for yourself on your own time to get it.