Chapter 680 — Things That Have Passed

Homunculus No. 36.

Silence settled over the room. Amber gazed quietly at the line of letters sketched in the diary, and for two full minutes she did not utter a single word.

But just as Gao Yang could no longer hold back the urge to say something, Amber's fingers began to move again. Biting her lip, she turned the diary to the next page, very, very slowly.

Sarylandrov's story continued:

"...My mechanical watch has broken. After recording the date twice by pulse and intuition, I was forced to abandon my pursuit of 'time.' I no longer know what day it is, but I suspect I have been in this ancient fortress for at least half a month.

"During this time, only 'Amber' has kept me company.

"The little one sleeps very quietly in her 'bed,' making not a sound. These past few days I have begun trying to talk to her, and of course she gives no response whatsoever, but I keep doing it every day—talking keeps my will and my mind intact, and a sleeping little girl is at least a better listener than a stone in the corner.

"...Over such a long stretch, the shadow dwellers have appeared only twice. To be honest, the emergence of those 'ghosts' actually brought me a flicker of delight—they are indeed eerie, and their appearance somewhat frightening, but at least they are some kind of 'living thing.' Sometimes I even entertain mad ideas, wanting to try communicating with those 'ghosts,' but that would be far too dangerous...

"I finally put my mad idea into practice once, yet those shadow dwellers paid me no attention at all. They merely wandered about the room for a moment, then gradually faded away.

"In the end, it is still only Amber who keeps me company.

"...My health is deteriorating—that is inevitable. The only sustenance I can find here is moss and water; in truth, surviving on them until today is already a miracle. That moss growing in the Shadow Realm can sustain a person's life—that in itself is a blessing, is it not?

"I was terrified. I ran a low fever—perhaps because the floor was too cold, perhaps because I was too weak. That trivial little illness nearly made me plan out all my last affairs on the spot. But what use are last affairs? Today I cursed the King for the first time. Honor has left me far behind.

"...How much time has passed outside? I long ago gave up recording dates; estimating time has become impossible for me. I can only judge by instinct—perhaps I have been here for several years already. The royal capital has most likely listed me as a missing person, or, according to the rules of the Royal Shadow Guard, as 'suspected of desertion.'

"I have been reducing the frequency of my diary entries lately, trying to abbreviate the letters and shrink the handwriting, because my ink is nearly exhausted. Though I have diluted it with water several times, it is still not enough. Tomorrow I will try burning that moss into ash and mixing it with water to see whether I can make some ink. If not... then if I wish to write anything in the future, I fear I shall have to use my own blood.

"I made some crude ink. The color is a bit strange, and so is the smell, but clearly it can be used for writing!

"...Today something happened that absolutely deserves to be recorded! Absolutely deserves to be recorded!!

"Amber moved—it is absolutely true, I am certain of it. She moved her little hand—she was sucking her fingers!!

"She is alive! She really is alive!"

After this came many scattered accounts Sarylandrov had written in a state of excitement, including some of his experiences sustaining himself within the Shadow Fortress. Amber seemed to grow impatient; her page-turning quickened, until she stopped before a diary page whose handwriting was slightly shaky, the writer seemingly beyond himself with agitation.

"...I do not know what I did—perhaps it had nothing to do with me—but the ancient device in the room suddenly made some noise. Strange sounds of water and a humming came from that great pillar. I nearly leaped out of my skin and rushed to where Amber slept. Gods above—what did I see?

"That crystal vessel had opened, and Amber was crawling out of it, using both hands and feet, nearly falling to the ground.

"By all the gods and ancients I know, I simply cannot describe in words what I felt at that moment. I slapped myself several times, bashed my head against the wall beside me, then shouted and yelled, using every method I could to rule out the possibility of hallucination—and only at the very end did I confirm that all of it was real. And Amber just sat there on the ground, staring at me blankly!

"Damn—I did not frighten her, did I?

"I find I can only feed the little one with moss. Is there anything more disheartening, more nerve-racking and terrifying than this? The poor child... how is she to survive in this godforsaken place?

"Some pale yellow, thin liquid still remained inside that egg-shaped vessel—at least it was not poisonous. I tried feeding it to Amber, and she ate some of it quickly, but there was too little of the liquid. I still had to find a way to solve her food problem.

"She will not drink blood.

"Only the very last bit of liquid remains in the vessel. I have no choice left.

"I fed her the moss. Using the iron-shelled containers I had collected, I made a pot, started a fire with combustible refuse found in the storeroom, and boiled the moss until it was thoroughly soft, turning it into some sort of mushy soup... As I let Amber drink it, I even felt as though I were feeding the little one poison.

"She ate the stuff, and for the moment she seems fine, but I cannot be sure what will happen afterward... For a long while to come I shall have to stay awake to keep her from choking if she vomits...

"...Thank the heavens! She is all right!"

The handwriting on this page shook terribly; the writer's nervous, agitated emotion seemed to have been preserved through the strokes for decades, and now it brimmed over the page. Amber stared fixedly at those gray-black strokes, then suddenly said softly, "No wonder I never grew tall... right, Old Sticky Rice?"

It was the least funny self-mockery Gao Yang had ever heard.

He reached out and pressed his hand against Amber's hair. When the large hand covered the top of her head, the half-elf's body gave a slight tremble; only then did she take a deep breath and continue turning the pages.

"...At the thought that the little one can only eat this moss together with me, I am filled with guilt. But compared with the worst possible outcome, being able to survive at all is tremendous luck. I think I should stop complaining—at least now I am finally no longer alone...

"Amber cannot speak; she can only produce a strange, hoarse sound, like the lowest murmurs of those shadow dwellers. But she clearly wishes to communicate with me. Now I spend most of every day talking to her. Though she cannot make the same sounds, I always feel she can at least understand some of it.

"Amber has learned to help me make ink! It is simply pouring the ash from burnt moss into water and stirring, but I must keep watch at her side, because she will sneak a taste...

Amber's fingertips moved slowly across those yellowed, fragile pages, turning one after another, slowly bringing to the end those words that recorded her childhood. At last this diary was nearing its conclusion.

At the end of the diary, Sarylandrov finally discovered the peculiarity of the little one he had "adopted."

"...I saw Amber talking with those shadow dwellers!

"No—strictly speaking, that should not count as talking, because Amber cannot yet express herself fully, but at least they were communicating. Amber was gesturing at those suddenly appearing 'ghosts,' and those 'ghosts' were actually responding!

"Almost instinctively I struck out at those shadow dwellers, and when I realized how close they were to Amber, my astonishment was beyond measure...

"...Amber possesses some shadow talent I cannot comprehend—I can finally confirm this.