A Living Archive
Tian-Su glanced at Nara, then back at the obelisk. It stood like a silent sentinel among countless others, all identical in structure but devoid of the carved codes. He had been inscribing the same pattern on this particular one for days, using the fragmented guidance of diagrams stored in the village elder’s ivory chest. Each pattern he chiseled emanated strange warmth, pulsing beneath his fingers like a heartbeat. Yet nothing happened.
"It feels alive," he murmured to himself. "What if we don’t understand what we’re asking of it?"
"We don’t have the luxury to understand," Nara replied, her voice dipping into reverence. "The Mekhen crafted their world using knowledge we can scarcely imagine. They’ve woven ideas into stone itself. Let’s hope your hands are true."
With determination, he resumed work. The chisel struck the final spiral point, a resounding clang reverberating unexpectedly through the chamber. The obelisk's surface rippled like water disturbed by a drop. At first, nothing more happened. Then the carvings glowed with an ethereal gold that illuminated every facet of the crypt. Tian-Su stumbled back, his pulse raging.
With each passing moment, the colors intensified, gold fracturing into otherworldly chromatics—green, violet, blue—and lines began to creep outward, connecting one obelisk to another with tendrils of radiant currents. The cavern now seemed alive, almost as if breathing.
A humanoid figure materialized before them, its form a translucent amalgamation of shifting patterns and light. Words flooded Tian-Su’s mind, bypassing his ears entirely. It spoke, not in language, but in a vibrating resonance of thoughts:
"Seeker, why do you call the Web?"
Tian-Su froze, his mind swimming in disbelief. "We—the K’tanai—are on the brink of annihilation. We need... we need your knowledge. Your strength, or anything you can give us to protect our people!"
The being’s form shifted, resembling the fixed starlight of the Mekhen inscriptions. "You ask for protection. Yet, you know not what you disturb. My creators could usurp the heavens' will, but they consumed themselves in their pursuit. Would you now walk in their steps?"
"Your creators left us no choice!" Tian-Su snapped, panic sharpening his words. "You assume our arrogance, but it is only fear. My people will die."
For an agonizing stretch, there was only silence. Then, without warning, golden tendrils exploded from the entity, spreading across the walls. They coalesced into carvings, more intricate than Tian-Su could comprehend. He barely noticed Nara’s gasp as she dropped to her knees at the sight. These inscriptions told a story—a history of ruin, pride, and cataclysm. And amidst them, a warning: Power must be tempered with understanding, or it will devour.
The figure spoke again, softer this time. "Your spirit burns, mortal. That alone will tether your hope. Take. Learn. Leave." A single glyph engraved itself on the copper amulet that hung from his neck before the spectral being dissolved.
The Weight of Knowledge
They emerged from the cavern hours later under the blaze of a ziggurat-orange sunset. Tian-Su cradled the amulet, its new symbols glimmering faintly as though alive. Behind him, Nara walked silently, her expression unreadable. When the winds carried the faint sound of drums—the war signals of the Tor-Mhir—she finally spoke.
"It’s incomplete," she said. "The knowledge. What happens if we awaken something worse within ourselves?"
Tian-Su’s eyes, tired but resolute, reflected the light of the setting sun. His thumb traced the edges of the amulet thoughtfully. "Then we remember what that... being said. Power must be tempered with understanding."
As the drums loomed louder on the horizon, the pair pressed on toward their village. Whatever mystery the Mekhen had granted was an ember of hope—a weapon, perhaps, but also a burden. And Tian-Su carried it now, the war at his back and the weight of eternity ahead.
The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Unlocking Your Brain's Lost Superpower: Can You Get It Back?
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