Chapter 4, There were eleven

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One year in this infernal world lasts 540 days, plus one extra day that does not belong to the ending or the beginning year. We celebrate it as the Day of Slumber, where all creation rests.

An excerpt from the diary of Pia...



ANDREW

Ten days since the Mark of the Other One blossomed.


This serenity had not been disturbed for a long time. Not by humans, nor other beings. Andrew watched as Robert and Lenna gave up on a civil conversation. He had no desire to join in on this debate. It was out of this world.

"There is no such thing! It has to be a machine!" Robert gestured passionately.

"Well, where is the damned control-room then?" Lenna shouted in response.

Robert said nothing and pointed towards the ground.

"Oh, for crying out loud, when will you give up? When will you face what is in front of you?"

"No. No, no, no. Do not start again! We are standing on a hill, a big hill. A perfectly round hill. There is plenty of space under here to hide all the important machinery. This hill is man made. Pillars do not sprout out of the ground like grass. There is a village down there, there were people here." Robert was gesturing and pacing around the place.

Lenna sighed aloud. "We have tried digging. It's dirt and boulders." She sat down on a pile of dirt and buried her face in her hands.

"We've dug holes barely taller than him." Robert pointed towards Andrew, who crossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably. "And we haven't been able to dig up the area between the pillars."

"And we won't do it either. Those stone tiles are unbreakable, and they run deep. We will waste time and energy." Sten had come up the stairs. The argument exploded once again. Andrew turned away and walked towards the east end of the hill.

They were on an odd hill with nine pillars standing on top. The ground between them covered with black tiles and slabs. An endless maze of lines and patterns covered the pillars and the flagstones. The rest was grass and cobble.

Towards the west end of the hill, there was a stairway leading down to a ruined village. It had been a while since anyone had lived there. Trees and grass occupied everything, vines covered the remnants of houses, and roots had turned stone into rubble. An ancient, dead town. The surrounding forest reclaiming what once had been its land to begin with.

All of this hid in the foothills of a large mountain range spanning the entire northern and eastern skyline. Downhill east, a river passed by the town. And somewhere up north you could hear a faint waterfall hidden in the hills.

Andrew turned his gaze back to the pillars. The evening he had woken up on the summit of this hill, segments of those pillars had been levitating, circling around the tiled plot with incredible speed.

It was an odd thing to describe, but they did not look built. Those pillars were large, both tall and wide. They stood as smooth and majestic as if they had come into existence only yesterday. Yet, the longer you looked at them, the more it convinced you that they must have witnessed an eternity. One could tell without fail that someone had built the stairway on the opposite side of the hill long after. Its surfaces weathered and covered with moss.

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