FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Flame's Kiss

By Dark Violet

Part Two

“This is wrong…"

Jason frowned, pressing the sheet of paper more firmly against the wall. He propped it up with one elbow, pausing only to retrieve the charcoal from behind his ear.

“Lyra… up a bit?" He jerked his head upwards, glancing back at her to get the point across. “Up, up?"

Lyra tilted her head, the torch grasped in her muzzle moving a little higher as she did. The dancing flame illuminated the top of the paper.

“Thanks... “ Jason muttered through pure instinct. He was already turning the charcoal on its side and rubbing across the paper. A dark negative rose in his strokes of the half-destroyed glyphs beneath.

The previous expeditions had said this damage was probably done by age. Really? Age? Age was just a silly word, a general term used to refer to a whole myriad of phenomena. If something is worn down by 'age', it actually meant that anything could have done it—the weather, people touching or stealing, natural disasters, water erosion, sand erosion…

All things that would not happen inside a sealed chamber.

He finished the first line of glyphs, moving down to the next one. His heart was thumping in his ears as those ancient words appeared on the paper, even as illegible as they were.

It was silly. No worthwhile expedition would have attributed this damage to age. Look at it—it was so inconsistent. These bottom glyphs were almost destroyed, but the lines above them were almost perfect.

The expedition had translated them. He knew them off by heart.

“Come; walk through my world,

Listen to the sounds around you

Surrender to your burdens and pains…"

And then, they disappeared into ruin. On the other side of the relief, it was similar;

“Here you step in my presence

I watch, I listen, I care

This is my house, and you are welcome..."

...until once again they faded to illegibility.

He finished the next line, moving on to the third and last. Lyra moved her head, letting the orange light follow his hand.

First person? It suggested either a ruler or a god. They knew of none which had some kind of pseudonym of 'Fire' though. And if it was a god, well, which god? In a polytheistic culture like ancient Unova, it could be any number of things. Could even be just a name they gave to some power that seemed supernatural to them. Gah, if only they knew who it was dedicated to! They could learn so much from just that fact! But no, this damage...

He continued to rub, back and forth, clenching his teeth as he did so. He tracked his vision to the right, following the line as he created it, watching the damage appear before him.

...Why would they attribute it to age...?

Why would…what?

He paused. He was staring at the centre of the wall again, the relief of the god rising from the rock around it, untouched, perfect in its own way.

Nothing could age that…

A sound made him jump. Wh- ...what? Did the relief just…?

Jason blinked. No, it was a… bark? He turned, looking into two green eyes, concern etched in that canine face. He laughed, shaking his head nervously, reaching out with one hand to pet Lyra's head. “It's okay, I'm okay. I just can't believe this place…"

As he drew his hand away, her eyes followed it. More specifically, the charcoal it held. He waved his hand back and forth, and she moved her head to follow, her pointed snout focused right at it.

Jason shook his head. “No. C'mon, I need this..."

Lyra looked up at him with suddenly baleful eyes. Her ears flopped against her head.

Jason chuckled, putting the charcoal in his pocket and scritching behind her ears. “When we're out of here, I'll give you all the treats you want."

He paused, and slowly he found himself frowning. Lyra went to nuzzle against his hand, trying to lick his fingers past the handle of the torch she was still carrying

Out of here…. Why did that thought seem so… foreign? No, not foreign… worrisome. Almost like it was a pang of worry, even fear. Why did he feel like that…?

Because it was hostile. Alien. Full of guards, guns, bureaucracy. And here? Here, he was safe...

He sighed, letting the paper drop to the floor, and lifting up the tape recorder again.

“Day three. I'm getting closer to figuring out what secrets this place has, I know I am, but it's… harder than I thought it would be. Over the past two days, I've been looking at translations for the first few lines, but it's hard to figure out—this sort of cuneiform has never been seen outside of tablets sealed in tombs, we barely have a complete alphabet. I can confirm that there don't seem to be any markings on the side rooms, too—I tried every angle with the torch, but they just look to be completely unfinished, as if abandoned mid-construction, like so much of these chambers…"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand, staring down at the paper full of illegible marks. “I don't know how much longer I can stay down here. I only have three more torch heads, and one meal ration left for Lyra and me…"

He stepped away from the wall, walking towards the centre of the chamber. Lyra's torchlight flitted over him as she followed him with her gaze, then slid away as she turned away, clearly uninterested in his monologuing after three days of it. Jason stared at the pillars, only barely visible in the deep shadows.

“I didn't really mean to stay down here for more than one night, but can I really leave without finding these secrets? I need to find enough to show that a follow-up expedition is worth it, to prove to the Unovan Government that they need to reopen this site to scientific investigation."

He paused, staring past the darkness for a while.

“Perhaps someone from Lumiose University will hear this someday. If so, then please get in touch, let me know how final those dismissal papers really are…"

He rubbed his forehead, and after a moment, dismissed the train of thought. Instead, he stared up the dark void of the staircase, towards a surface he knew was so far above.

“Anyway, I still don't understand. Why did they even close this place? 'Protecting a site of scientific interest'? If they're doing that, why aren't they then allowing Unovan scientists to study it? And why guard it so heavily? Those people were armed to the teeth. Those were special Pokéballs, army-issue, and some heavy-duty gear…"

He frowned, scouring his gaze around the sandy floor. “They could do so much with this place—for science, for tourism… This, this 'Temple of Life' is fantastic! The mystery as to its construction, its use, everyone knows about it these days! The story is one of the largest and most enticing to ever come out of the region! A message that says welcome, but a relief that wards away? Why the difference? These walls damaged, glyphs shattered and destroyed—who did that, and why?"

He turned, pacing back towards Lyra, his foot kicking at a patch of sand. Beneath, bare rock looked pale in the shadows.

Jason paused, staring at it.

Several long seconds passed.

Torchlight. He needed torchlight, now. “Lyra… Lyra, here!" He nudged Lyra's hindquarters with his hand. “Lyra, come away from there, I need the light!"

Eventually, Lyra turned away from the wall she'd been looking at, tilting her head to one side. Jason took the torch from her, leaving her with a puzzled expression as he brought the flame close to the ground.

The bare rock gleamed back at him, like it had been polished.

Jason shuffled to the side, brushing away more sand, and shining the torch there. Again, bare rock—but here, slight ridges from the cutting and grinding process cast shadows across the surface.

He fumbled the torch back towards Lyra, stopping only to tug her away from the wall and pushing the handle back into her surprised muzzle. He grabbed for the tape recorder, brushing aside more of the sand.

“There's something here! The rock in the main chamber shows signs of wear, like it's been smoothed, polished. Like… like something was slid against it, like… like something was dragged!"

He brushed more sand away, then slid his hand over the rock beneath.

“Two lines… like some kind of sled. But what did…"

He paused - and then jumped up, half-running to the bottom of the staircase. He pulled at the lowest step, his fingers slipping on it—but after a few failed tries, it began to tilt. Jason heaved it away, the scraping resounding around the chamber. Eventually he stopped, panting, staring at what it had covered.

“The steps! They're not cut into the rock, they were chiselled and added afterwards. And there're some kind of… rails beneath?" He beckoned Lyra closer, leaning from side to side to inspect the two slanted rails that the step had neatly slotted across. “There's some steps too, behind them, but these are definitely rough, like they were actually cut into the rock—but the ramp, the rails, whatever, it's also worn with use!"

He stood up, brushing his hair from his face. “They used sleds here. Sleds that were laden with something, carrying something—a lot of somethings? Must have been—they're so smooth, this can only happen after weeks—no, months at least—of heavy use…" He stepped away from the staircase. “Rocks? From mining, maybe it was rocks…"

He paused again, then turned, going down on his hands and knees, hastily brushing the sand aside.

“No… no, the drag marks continue right through the chamber. They would stop somewhere if they were just mining these rooms out." Jason shuffled along, brushing sand as he went. “They just keep going, right up until they reach the…"

He stopped. He was staring upwards. Glowing in the torchlight above him, the giant, imposing relief was a cliff face—but it was bulging with secrets so great, so tantalizingly close, he could almost see them as lights beneath the sandstone's surface.

“They don't stop…" he was muttering. He'd said it several times, he realised.

He dragged his gaze away, back down to the polished stone of the floor. “They don't stop! They disappear right under the relief, but that must mean…"

There was a brief pause, and then he leapt into action, scrambled to his feet and darting to the side room. Lyra's torchlight remained in place, but he could find his way to his pack regardless. He felt for the side pocket, and pulled out a radio, barely able to hold the bulky device in one hand. He'd packed it for emergencies, for possible help—and this definitely qualified.

Holding it aloft for as much time as his hammering heart could bear, he threw it to the ground. It shattered instantly, shards of plastic and metal skittering away from the impact.

In the dimness of the light from the central chamber, he sorted through the debris, finding one of the glinting copper wires from the inside. He picked it out from its motherboard, straightening it as he did so, until he was left with a single piece just over a foot long.

He scampered back to the central chamber. Lyra must have felt his anticipation—she was making gentle whines, like she was aching to howl. Jason moved back into the torchlight focused on the relief, going down on his knees again, scraping the last of the sand away from the drag marks across the floor. Beneath it, between the relief and the floor, was a thin, dark gap…

With shaking fingers, he pressed the wire into it.

It resisted, meeting rock. Jason almost gasped, having to stop himself from just dropping it then and there. Instead, he pulled back, moving it to another point, and pressed the wire back into it…

This time, the wire slipped beneath the wall.

He cried out, almost breathless. He pushed the wire further, and further it went, without a single feeling of it being bent or changing direction. He pushed it right to the end, until he could only barely hold onto it, before he let go.

Swallowing with a dry mouth, he slid his fingertips against the wall, nails just able to find the slight gap. He felt along the bottom of the wall, his breaths ragged, sporadic. Eventually he met a corner and stood up slowly, forcing his quivering legs to support him as he traced the gap up the wall, further and further until he couldn't reach it anymore, the gap disappearing towards the ceiling. It was almost invisible—at least, to anyone who didn't know it was there.

He jumped to the other side, finding a similar line on the other side—going right from the ceiling, down to the floor, where it met the start…

Finally, anticipation controlling his every move, he backed away from the wall—he kept his gaze firmly planted on that line, as if it would disappear if he looked away.

That thin line, that gap, perfectly separated the central relief from the rest of the wall.

“By the gods, Lyra…" he muttered, crouching down to pick up the tape recorder. All of a sudden, his actions were still, methodical. He pressed down the record button.

“It's not part of the wall. The relief… it's not part of the bedrock, like the rest of the wall is—the drag marks disappear behind it, like it's, it's, some sort of… panel. No, no...it's a coverstone!"

He let his hand holding the tape recorder drop to his side.

That beautiful relief, the elegant swirls, the intricate carvings of that great, unknown deity—it wasn't the end of the chamber. It wasn't a wall. It was covering something! Hiding something! A cache, a tomb, a chamber—he couldn't say, but whatever it was, it was certain—this relief, it was covering something!

Click-click...

He swallowed, blinking, looking down at the tape recorder he was holding. He was almost out of tape, the wheels clicking against the mechanism. Already? Well… he'd have to get another cassette, he supposed…

He walked back to the room with his bag, his movements slow, erratic. His thoughts were like fireworks—every time he'd focus on one, another would force its way to the front, claiming his attention in a grand display. He replaced the cassette slowly, only his hands focused on the task.

This was it. He had the proof he needed. 'Not enough evidence for an expedition'? He'd always known that was bullshit, but now he had the proof.

A whole other chamber in the Temple of Life? Hidden secrets? Maybe even some artifacts! This was going to be incredible! He'd finally prove himself, he could show them!

Another expedition, yes, that's what was needed. They'd need a chisel, maybe a drill, see what's on the other side. See the secrets of the Temple! He had to tell people on the surface, get them behind him! If they knew, if they could come back with the right equipment, oh, it would be perfect!

He shut the tape recorder, and absent-mindedly shouldered his bag, walking back to the central chamber. He walked in front of Lyra, stroking her head.

“Come on, girl. We've done well here. We should…"

Lyra gave a short, sharp bark. He stopped.

Should…

Jason frowned down at Lyra. She was dancing uncertainty from paw to paw, ears pointed right forwards as she stared up at him with large eyes. She tilted her head, the embers of the flickering torch casting sharp creases across her face, accentuating - what was that expression? Worry? Excitement? Or… need?

Suddenly, she turned, nosing at the rubbing on the floor, then pointed her muzzle to the coverstone. After a moment, she spun around, tail wagging, staring back at him with that same, needy expression in her eyes.

We should...what? ...Leave?

He smiled at Lyra, caressing her sweet face with one hand. That dear mind of hers—smarter than she let on.

She was right—why should he leave? He was only just starting! What if there were other secrets here? He couldn't risk people not hearing what he had to say, dismissing them as some ramblings of an ex-student—But if he'd find more, perhaps something else that would back up his case? Hell, he hadn't even tried translating the destroyed text yet! Who knew what secrets that held?

He laughed, giddy with the idea. He dropped the bag back on the ground, dipping his hand into it to fish out his remaining ration, pausing only to grab a shard of calcite for Lyra. She let the smouldering torch fall to the ground in a brief shower of sparks, and grabbed the rock in her muzzle before Jason's hand was even out of the bag. Hah—he was hungry too, even with his previous meal only being, what, it felt like only a couple of hours ago? The joy of a discovery had that way…

He sat down with Lyra, running his hand back and forth across her back as he pulled out a dense food bar, breaking a bit off with his teeth. The torch had rolled away, the last glimmers of light illuminating one of the lower, destroyed sections of wall. Large, deep shadows were cast across the spiked surface.

One more night. He could manage one more night in this den of secrets—he could ration the light only to when he really needed it, and they could go without food for one day, anyway. After all, when he got back up top tomorrow, he could treat himself and dear Lyra to anything they wanted—they'd deserve it.

It was strange, he thought, as he rubbed under Lyra's muzzle, her head pressing against his leg. Even with the torch barely glowing, the darkness no longer really closed in around them as much—it seemed to stay away, skulking in the furthest corners of the gallery, as if afraid of their enthusiasm. They'd let nothing keep them from solving this mystery, and it knew that.

They were sitting on a hidden trove just waiting to be unearthed, and he was gripping the pickaxe in his hands, the fires of anticipation burning his chest.