31. Currents of Memory #3
"But we still don't know what exactly," Kyren pointed out, gesturing to the drowned city around us. "The keys show the selling, show the consequences, but not the actual secrets."
"Maybe that's the point," I said, thinking it through. "Maybe we're not meant to know the specifics. Just that some knowledge shouldn't be sold."
"The echo keys will tell us more," Thatcher said.
"Only one way to find out." Marx adjusted her pack. "To the amphitheater. Stay together."
We left the temple and swam through Memorica's ruins, keeping to shadowed pathways and hidden corridors. Twice we had to hide as other contestants passed by—once when we spotted a pair waiting in ambush for an unsuspecting victim.
I wanted to intervene, to stop the ambush before it happened, but Thatcher held me back.
"We don't have time for heroism," he hissed. "We need to get to the echo keys before they're all gone."
"But they're going to kill that person," I argued.
"And that's terrible, but we can't save everyone. Focus on our objective."
I followed Thatcher's lead, swimming past. The sick feeling in my stomach remained, though I couldn't identify it as guilt or shame or something else entirely.
The amphitheater rose before us, its tiered seating surrounding a central stage area. Blood clouded the water near the entrance, turning the crystal-clear sea into a murky red. At least three bodies floated among the ruins.
"It didn't look like this last time," Kyren whispered. "What happened?"
"Everyone coming for the same limited resource," Marx guessed.
We entered cautiously, Thatcher leading with Marx and her beast close behind. I brought up the rear with Kyren, watching for any sign of ambush from behind. The interior was eerily quiet, no music, no sound at all except the subtle current moving through the massive space.
"Where are the keys?" I asked, scanning the tiered seating and central stage area. "I don't see any."
"They've got to be here somewhere," Thatcher insisted. "Spread out, but stay within sight of each other."
We searched methodically, checking alcoves and hidden spaces throughout the structure. Nothing. No sign of the echo keys, no singing crystals, no conch-shaped objects.
"We're too late," Marx finally said. "They're gone."
"We have to keep looking," Thatcher argued.
A sudden scream cut through the water. We spun toward the source—one of the upper tiers where we hadn't yet searched.
A contestant thrashed wildly, blood pouring from wounds that appeared out of nowhere.
Invisible blades seemed to slice through his body from every direction until he finally went still, his lifeless form drifting slowly downward.
"What the hell was that?" Kyren breathed.
"An echo," Marx said slowly, her eyes narrowing. "Look—there!"
She pointed to a shimmer in the water, barely visible.
"The keys are hiding," I realized. "Camouflaged."
"That explains why they're so hard to find," Thatcher said. "And why that contestant died—he must have stumbled into one without realizing what it was. The sound must have defensive properties."
"Which means we need to approach carefully," Marx concluded.
"Kyren, you said they emit painful sounds when you get close," I said. "Can you hear anything now? Like what you heard earlier? We don’t know what it’s supposed to sound like. "
He concentrated, closing his eyes. "Yes... very faint, but it's there. This way."
We followed him toward another tier, moving slowly and carefully. As we approached, a high-pitched whine began to build, starting just at the edge of hearing but quickly becoming painfully loud. Kyren winced, pressing his hands to his ears.
"It's close," he gasped.
I moved forward, focusing on the shimmering distortion ahead. The sound intensified until it felt like my skull might crack, blood trickling from my ears and dissolving into the water around me. But I pressed on.
Within the sound, I could hear things. The clash of steel on steel, thousands of blades meeting in battle.
Horses screaming. The wet sound of spears finding flesh.
The roar of fire consuming buildings. Mass prayers turning to mass screams. Marching feet, endless marching feet.
And beneath it all, a broken voice: "One deal made in darkness. .. ten thousand graves..."
My fingers brushed against something solid. The echo key suddenly materialized—a conch-shaped crystal that pulsed with inner light. The sound changed into a thousand voices screaming directly into my brain.
Fighting through the pain, I managed to get the key into its container and seal it tight. Immediately, the sound cut off, leaving blessed silence in its wake.
"One down," I gasped, wiping blood from my ears.
Thatcher went next, following Kyren's directions to another hidden key. He struggled more than I had, the pain visibly affecting him as he reached for the invisible crystal. When he finally secured it, his face was pale.
"Last one," Marx said grimly, already tracking the third key's location.
She had only taken a few strokes when a massive shadow passed overhead. We looked up to see another contestant swimming above us, accompanied by a beast twice the size of Marx's leviathan. Before any of us could react, the creature dove, jaws wide and teeth gleaming.
Marx's beast intercepted it, the two manifestations colliding in an explosion of red and violet. The impact sent shock waves through the water, knocking us back against the amphitheater's stone seats.
"Go!" Marx shouted, tossing me her last container. "Get my last key!" And then she moved to direct her Leviathan.
Kyren led me toward the final echo key while Thatcher moved to help Marx. The sound was already building, making my vision blur and my stomach churn. Kyren pointed to a specific spot, unable to approach any closer as the sound threatened to overwhelm him again.
I swam forward, focusing through the pain as blood once more began to trickle from my ears. The key materialized as my fingers touched it, its song so intense I could feel my consciousness slipping. More echoes—more violent deaths.
With the last of my strength, I secured it in its container, silencing the terrible noise.
When I turned back, I saw Thatcher locked in combat with the other contestant—a woman with tentacles of living darkness extending from her hands.
One of those tendrils had wrapped around his knee, the skin beneath it turning gray and lifeless.
To the left, the massive violet beast clamped down on Marx's leg.
I shot forward without hesitation, star-blade forming in my hand.
The woman saw me coming and redirected some of her darkness toward me, but I was too fast, too committed to my attack.
Kill her, and the manifestation goes with her.
My blade severed the tendril holding Thatcher, then continued through to slice across her arm.
She screamed, dark blood clouding the water between us. Her manifestation disengaged from Marx's beast, returning to defend its creator as she retreated, clutching her wounded frame.
"We've got what we came for," Thatcher gasped, his leg still partially gray where the tendril had touched him. "Let's go! "
We regrouped quickly, swimming as fast as we could out of the amphitheatre. All four of us now had complete sets of keys—one memory, one echo, one whisper. The final stage of the trial awaited.
"The echo keys showed wars, right?" Thatcher said quietly, his voice heavy. "It sounded brutal."
"Whatever divine secrets Memorica sold, it had major repercussions." Kyren said.
"The voice I heard..." I paused, remembering. "One deal made in darkness... ten thousand graves."
"No wonder Thalor drowned them," Thatcher concluded grimly. "How many people died because priests wanted gold?"
Kyren concluded. "Had to be information that mortals shouldn't have had."
"But we still don't know exactly what kind of secrets," I pointed out. "What could be valuable enough to risk divine wrath?"
"Whatever it was," Thatcher said darkly, "Thalor found out. And his response was to drown every man, woman, and child in the city."
We swam in silence for a moment, the weight of Memorica's tragedy settling over us.
The Archive loomed in the distance, a massive structure perched at the edge of the shelf break. As we approached, a beam of golden light shot from its apex toward the surface, creating a shimmering pathway through the water.
"It's opening," Kyren said, a mixture of fear and excitement in his voice.
"Whatever's in there," Marx said, "we face it together."
"Together," Thatcher agreed, though his worried gaze lingered on me.
As one, we swam into the Archive, leaving the chaos of Memorica behind. The second I entered, anxiety prickled my neck. Well, so much for being fearless. The archive had clearly returned it to me in all its glory.
Before us was a vast circular chamber descending toward the drop-off. And then they began to appear. Beings that shared our features, but had the tails of fish. Sirens, ancient and powerful and all-knowing, if the fables were to be believed.
"Welcome, survivors," one of them intoned, its voice perfectly clear. "You have reached the Archive, but your journey is not complete."
In the center of the chamber, receptacles for the keys were arranged on a circular platform.
The lead siren glided forward, its movements unnaturally fluid. "But first, you must prove you understand why you swim through these ruins. What truth do the keys reveal?"
I exchanged glances with the others. This was it.
"Memorica was a city of Thalor's faithful," Kyren began slowly. "They served as his priests and record-keepers."
"But they betrayed that trust," Thatcher continued. "They sold divine secrets for gold."
"And those secrets sparked wars," Marx added, her voice grim.
"So when Thalor discovered their betrayal," I finished, "he drowned the entire city. Everyone paid for the priests' greed—even the innocent."
The sirens' bioluminescent patterns pulsed in what might have been approval. "You understand the price of betrayal. Memorica sold truth for gold, and gold became their grave."
“But what were the secrets? What was sold?” Kyren asked, looking between the ethereal beings.
The lead siren's expression grew even more severe. “If mortal ears were not ready for them a century ago, what makes you believe yours are now?”
Another slithered past us, blocking us inside the archive. “This Trial was not about discovering secrets. It was about understanding the weight of them. And that everything comes with a price. Just as the priests learned.”
"Now you face the inverse of their test." The lead siren inched closer. "You must do what they could not. Give freely what they would have sold. Sacrifice your most guarded truth."
The sirens circled us, their movements hypnotic. "Prove you can abandon mortal corruption for divine purpose."
"Speak the secret that costs you everything," another intoned. "Only then may you ascend."
We need a plan, Thatcher sent urgently through our bond.
But for once, I had none to offer.