Prologue I: Awakening

Nothingness. 

Void. 

Complete numbness. 

Well, almost complete. Numbness is strange, the lack of feeling when you know there should be something. You can imagine sensations, you can remember them, but in return there is nothing. A paradox. 

They were numb, except for a soft vibration echoing throughout their body. Barely there, requiring focus that was not entirely present. They could feel that something was... off. But they were so tired. And so they floated in nothingness. 

It was serene. They continued on, no thoughts, no perception, barely existing. They didn’t have the energy to contemplate the implications nor intricacies of their nothingness. Only that it was, and it felt like the only thing they had ever known. 

Eventually however, the vibrations that rung through their body began to come more into focus. Feeling slowly returned to them, very slowly. It could have taken days, weeks, months, years. It would have been agonizing if it wasn’t so gradual, so miniscule, so insignificantly slow. 

The buzzing all around grew in intensity, though it was far from omnipresent. It just was. And while it did not share the stage with other feelings or sensations, it stood alone quietly, reserved. But grounding. 

Finally, after seemingly decades of waiting, more feeling returned and with it a slow ascent up from unconscious to the waking world. They were no longer floating, but laying sprawled out on the ground. Soft ground, hard and unmoving, but smooth from being worn down. Used ground, ground that had known the love of being constantly tread upon, and that had willingly given way to the constant steps from above. 

Further feeling returned, their arms laying in a decidedly comfortable way, their fingers slowly exploring the world through closed and sightless eyes. They felt stone, the worn ground they laid upon. It was neither cool nor warm, a comfortable neutral temperature. The atmosphere was similar, a soft breeze blowing lukewarm air over their skin. 

What was uncomfortable wasn’t their torso, lying on the bare stone, nor was it their cheek as they lay face down. It was their leg, their seemingly singular leg. It lay at an awkward angle, bent and crossed over; their calf propped up on something. They didn’t have the energy to move it, and so it lay, growing increasingly agitated. 

They took in the sounds of the surroundings, what seemed like rain gently echoed around them. Constant, though with not a small amount of focus they could make out different intensities of the rain. Soft nearby, with a louder, thunderous downpour off in the distance. It didn’t seem to be approaching or receding, as if a storm on the horizon were stuck in stasis. 

There were also chimes. They danced with the rain, complementing it, a slow melancholy melody played in concert with the falling water. Slow, relaxed, pleasant. A song for rest and reprieve, soothing notes dancing with the rain in concert. 

Even as comfortable as the melody was, and the simultaneous hymn of the rain complimenting it, the stone below was still far from the most relaxing material on which to rest as they grew increasingly and frustratingly sore. The need to move and adjust was counteracted by their complete lack of energy. But as consciousness returned, so did their energy. 

They managed to peel open their eyes with incredible difficulty, still barely able to move. They were parched, their vision blurry and throat sore, as if they had been left to wither and dry in the desert sun. Body weighed down like a mountain, any amount of movement was strenuous and near impossible. They had barely enough energy to continue breathing, let alone consider shifting positions. 

After considerable blinking to try returning some semblance of moisture to their eyes, they saw... a room. They didn’t have the greatest vantage, and so from where they lay on the stone floor they could make out some racks with what appeared to be colorful rugs of exotic make, lines weaving upon themselves in impossible patterns. They could see a desk with drawers, though they couldn’t see what it carried atop its wooden plateau.  

By now feeling had returned to their body, and they began taking stock. They started from the extremities, counting their fingers. One, two, three, and so on. A solid six on each hand. Two arms followed, to one torso, to... one leg. It appeared that feeling hadn’t returned to their left leg, though enough had returned to recognize the lump their right was propped on top of was their lifeless left leg. 

Deep breath. They prepared themselves to shift, wanting to get a better view of their surroundings. It took a titanic effort, hauling their arms up and with them their torso, just enough to flip over onto their back. They lay their head down on the soft stone, gazing upward while their body recovered from the exertion.  

Directly above was another ceiling of stone, the same dusty yellowish grey, however they could see that veins of sapphire and topaz crystals wove throughout it. The veins radiated a soft light illuminating the room, though it was a dim grey to begin with, coming from the ends of the room as natural light spilled in. 

Craning their neck, they could see a large entrance at the back of the room, as if the wall was missing, and looking the other way greeted them with the sight of another missing wall. The entire room was formed within a tunnel, light filtering in from the openings, with the crystals to light deeper inside the room where the outside light didn’t quite reach. 

The rest of the room was adorned similarly to their initial view, with racks holding a grand variety of beautiful rugs. They counted two counters, three desks, eight racks of cloth, and one ladder with openings above and below. They couldn’t see the tops of the counters or desks, and they still couldn’t see out of either end of the room. 

And so, they embarked on the arduous task of sitting up. Thankfully they were near one of the counters, so with great difficulty they scooted themselves over and positioned themselves to sit up. After a few failed attempts, they finally managed to triumphantly heave themselves to an upright position, leaning back against the counter. Strength still hadn’t returned to their left leg. 

They still weren’t in a position to see out the ends of the room, but they were finally able to take stock of their surroundings. The desks were covered in cloth samples, a multitude of fabrics piled high, with metal tools flanking them on the sides. They also could see a hammock strung up behind one of the counters, a plain dull tan which contrasted with the bright colors of the rugs all around. 

But something felt off. The room was unfamiliar. As comforting as the surroundings were, it was foreign to them. And slowly another realization settled upon them; who were they? Their name... nothing. They couldn’t remember what they did, where they were, or who they were. Nothing, blank, empty. 

Maybe they had fallen and hit their head, they reasoned to themselves. Maybe their leg had given out and they got knocked out. But they should still be able to recall basic information, or at least feel comfortable in what would be assumed to be a safe place. Yet all they felt was unease and confusion. 

So they thought to call for help, which required crawling towards the ends of the tunnel-room. Hopefully they would find some help, someone who could explain what they were doing in this room. Bracing themselves, they made the arduous journey across the room to the end of the tunnel, as they gazed out of the room fully for the first time. 

And they were greeted with the most beautiful scene they could have never imagined. 

It was a city, built inside a monstrous ravine, two peaks reaching toward the heavens on either side, extending back past the room. Bridges of the same dusty tan stone crossed with hanging pathways of rope and wood linking together buildings fashioned in the same tube shape as the current room. Ladders and ropes were plentiful, the entire city a jungle of pathways. 

And it wasn’t raining. The sounds they had heard were waterfalls, cascading over and around and up and down throughout the city, flowing with the buildings and between the paths, weaving in tandem with the many pathways in the city. Massive veins of the blue and yellow gems shown in the cliffs beside the city and throughout the carved buildings and paths, reflecting light through the waterfalls, sending cascading rainbows throughout the city. 

And it was entirely empty. 

The only movement was of the waterfalls, though even those felt in stasis from the absence of life. Grey cloud cover overhead sent dull light into the chasm. Cold light, empty light. 

 They would have yelled for help if they could, though their throat was far too dry for more than a forced wheeze. Anything to draw the attention of people potentially hidden. But as they waited, no one exited from the buildings, nor did anyone come from out of view. The city was silent save for the waterfalls and chimes, and so very unnaturally still. 

So they waited. And waited. Partially holding out hope someone, anyone, would appear. Partially to build enough strength for what they planned for next. After a while they finally had enough strength to pull themselves around the room, inspecting for anything useful. Perhaps a stick to help them stand, water for their throat, or even food given their stomach was catching up with their dehydration. 

They found nothing of the sort. The room seemed to be a weaver's shop, obvious, but that also meant it lacked anything major to help them. Eventually making their way to the other end of the room, they glanced out and were treated to another beautiful view, this time turned into the ravine instead of out. The view was still breathtaking, but still unhelpful. Despite all of the flowing water around, none was within reach. 

Another short rest followed, before again straining themselves back to the front of the tunnel-room, this time dragging rugs, shears, and thread behind them. With significant difficulty they managed to move a box close to the entrance, giving them something to sit against while watching the dead city. They took up their post, took another moment to once again capture the breathtaking view, and started their next task. 

They began tearing into the cloth, cutting it into rough shapes, haphazardly stitching pieces together, creating a true abomination, a mess of fabrics and colors. Five rugs, two shears, and countless stitches later, they were finished. It was truly horrendous. And it was also perfect. 

Using some nearby furniture, they managed to tie and hang it out the front of the room dangling in the breeze, a flag of mishmashed colors and shapes. Something unnatural, something that didn’t fit in the chasm of dusty stone and glittering crystals. A sign that someone was here, calling for help. 

They finally took a break and noticed the sky had darkened, the light cloud cover bleeding into a hazy grey. There was still enough light, though it made the shining gems stand out more within the ravine. It was tough to know how much time had passed, at least a few hours since they had properly Awoken. Enough for the land to dim, though for some reason they knew that night was still further off. 

So they sat and waited. Gazing out onto the city, resting and recuperating. Their stomach ached and their throat scratched. They would have to search again for at least something to drink, though for now they just watched the water flow in the distance, mesmerized by the colors reflected through and off of the falls. 

This gave them time to think. A lot of time to think. Unfortunately, thinking required energy, and so they were relegated to just a few basic thoughts. They circled endlessly; where were they, who were they, and what was going on? 

It was difficult to parse anything, though they came to a few conclusions. First, they still knew themselves, but nothing about themselves. Their sense of self was intact, but their memories had been completely erased. They felt a familiarity with having to move sans their left leg, something that wouldn’t have happened if the injury was recent. 

They were still stumped on the where and what of their situation however. For now however, they needed to focus on trying to be rescued, if anyone existed to rescue them. This meant surviving, and with it the quest for sustenance. They hadn’t yet been able to explore the rooms above and below, and figured it was a solid place to start. After a bit more rest. 

Eventually it was time to move. Their bones were growing sore, and they needed to find something to drink at least. They moved to lift themselves, but their arm suddenly gave out, strength fleeing them as they took a small tumble. 

Right into one of the racks their makeshift flag was tied too near the edge of the tunnel-room. 

The rack teetered as they tried to steady themselves with it, and in doing so accidentally tipped it over, sending it to the ground, over the edge, and with it the flag and other rack used to secure it. They had to watch in slow motion as their days' work fell into the ravine, followed by a brief silence and then a crash as the racks smashed into a stone pathway far below, obscured by a fog hanging in the chasm. 

Damnit. Dusks.

They would have cursed their body if they didn’t know the lack of fuel they were running on. They had to settle with a flare of anger quickly quelled by the lack of energy to sustain it. Instead, an emptiness befell them, disappointment, and pure exhaustion. It was time for rest with a further darkening sky, so they gathered some of the nearby cloth strewn about and bundled up to sleep. A makeshift nest inside a stone tunnel within a chasm of an unknown city.  

Alone. 

Prolgue II: Explanations