Page 3533 -- CCXCIV.

Chapter Two Hundred Ninety-Four: ‘O, Wonder! O, Threshold...!’
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The memory froze when Hector heard that. Had he frozen it himself? Yeah. He felt so. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d done that, but it seemed true.

If this blurry figure in front of him was really Rathmore, then he wanted to take a minute and reexamine the scene.

Recontextualize it, actually.

This giant metal-and-rock formation all around the Gate...

Could it have been a Fusion Forge?

Hector knew that they could look like just about anything, so perhaps there was no telling for sure. But if it was, then that might explain, in part, why it no longer existed in the modern day. Forges were too highly sought after to be left alone. Someone would’ve either taken it or destroyed it.

Furthermore, it might also explain how Rathmore had been able to affect the supposedly un-affectable stone. If anything in the world could modify the unmodifiable, it would probably be a Fusion Forge, wouldn’t it?

Hmm.

The more he looked at the enormous formation, the more he wondered about how it might have functioned. All those spiked points focusing on the Gate. Were they for channeling ardor, perhaps? Or extracting it, maybe? Dammit. Maybe if the scene hadn’t gone white earlier, he would’ve gotten a clearer picture of things.

He found himself hovering higher, floating above the stony contraption in order to get a better idea of just how huge it really was. It extended out farther than he’d realized, seemingly embedded deep into the ground, making it difficult to tell where the natural rock ended and Forge-rock began.

Perhaps that was the point. The Candle had a similar design philosophy, didn’t it? Built right into a tree. Made inseparable from it. In which case, it might’ve been better to think of the “natural” rock as still part of the forge. Like a root system.

And that lever. That was distinct. Hector looked for any other mechanical parts, but he couldn’t find any. How could that be the only thing? Was there a vast network of cogwheels underground? Probably not. That sort of technology seemed a bit advanced for how long ago this must have taken place.

But then again...

Ancient integrators were no joke. Stasya Orlov, the creator of Warrenhold, had apparently invented locked door mechanisms long before the technology became commonplace. So maybe Rathmore had done something similar here.

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But the scene surrounding it was quite strange indeed. Instead of a simple forest, there was a tremendous formation of... something. Rock? Metal?

Both.

Almost like a massive, tangled web. It rose high into the air above, with dozens of metal spikes pointing downward at the Gate, looking almost like scorpion tails preparing to strike. But they were not moving. Nor did it seem like they ever would, Hector thought.

What was this? This giant structure didn’t exist in the modern day. What had happened to it?

He observed the scene for a while, unsure if anything was even going to happen at all. No one was around. The structure seemed perfectly still.

Then, at length, a person stepped into view. Hector couldn’t make out any details about them, as their face and body were a blur. They hovered around the base of the structure, perhaps examining things, until they eventually approached an apparent lever on the far western edge of the structure and pulled it with both hands.

The scene exploded with bright light, and it remained that way for so long that Hector began to think the memory had ended. When the light finally faded, however, Hector looked for some kind of change to the scene.

But he couldn’t see a difference.

“Does this qualify as success?” came a voice from his right, and Hector turned to see a second blurry person approaching.

“No,” said the first person, still by the lever, “but perhaps it will have to.”

“Truly? You are finally putting an end to this nonsense?”

“For this monument, yes. But only because there are still so many others left.”

“Bah. You gave me hope for a moment there. I ask again: what is the point in all this if no real results are achievable? Even if your theories are true, why bother with--”

“Cease your incessant whinging, woman. If you still do not understand, then I expect you never will.”

There was silence, until the second spoke again. “I did not expect to find you in such foul temper. You are normally so calm, even in failure.”

“Hmph. Perhaps that is why your insufferable attitude has gotten so out of hand. Because I have been too calm. Because I have allowed you to forget who I am.”

“You are my consort, and I am your Queen. You would do well to--”

“No, you ignorant wench. I am the Seer of the Distant Dawn. I am He Who Has Touched the Heavens. I am Rathmore of Andeyal.”

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Hector almost resented that. But the reaper probably had a point. “I think... the way it works is... I need to see something in order to search for it in my memories. Specifically, I mean. I’ve tried to search based on just ideas before, but the results I got back were always kinda... shitty and vague. Almost like the Candle itself was trying to figure out what I want. And not quite succeeding.”

‘So you’re saying the Candle is stupid.’

“I did not say that. Not at all.”

‘That’s what I heard.’

“I’m saying that words like ‘Rathmore’s Materials’ or whatever are not helpful. Maybe if I knew what they looked like, then I could find something relevant, but...”

‘Well, the Gate’s right here. Put those photoreceptors to use and get a good look. That’s basically why we came all this way, isn’t it?’

“I have been looking,” said Hector, extending out his iron platform so that he could eye the Gate up and down again. “I’m just trying to...”

‘No rush,’ said Garovel. ‘Take your time and think. You’ve got a lot in there, right? Soak in the view and think back. Hell, meditate if you have to.’

Hmm. Hector did as the reaper said, circling around the Gate to get a series of good looks in from all different angles, including from above and below. Maybe he couldn’t search for someone mentioning the Gate, but perhaps it would show up in the background of a memory. If he could just learn to recognize its shape...

‘Okay, but don’t actually take that long. I’m getting bored over here.’

“You were being so helpful for a minute there...”

He concentrated. And yet also didn’t. He wanted to find just the right headspace to occupy for this. He wanted to be loose and free. Moving through memories quickly and easily. Not lingering. Not getting bogged down in details. But he also wanted to have enough awareness so that he could actually detect the Gate if it appeared.

It was a balancing act, of sorts. A long and strange trek, speeding by countless memories like a passenger looking out the window of a train.

There was a temptation to simply... keep going. Because, also like a train, there was a certain rhythm to this. A certain... comfort. Passively observing the world. Observing history. Hmm.

Stop.

There.

He had to rewind a bit. Had to journey backwards. Not sure that he’d seen what he thought. Had to take his time, too. Look over each scene a bit more thoroughly.

But he found it.

Rathmore’s Gate.