IF WELFANSHELM was a web, the Camp was a flower. Yet, if a web could be a land, so too could a blossom be such. A familiar sentimentality stirred within Maze, brought on by the linen birds that aided his descent toward a place that felt a world away.
"A flower," he murmured. He had beheld this kind of six-petaled rosette before in the garden of the former manor he resided as a shepherd. It was the sort of flower the servants were fond of plucking after seeking the leave of the head stewards.
As he drew closer to the expanse, the structure of the Camp confirmed his suspicion. What he had mistaken for pollen from above was a pool of crystalline water. He discerned small, green shapes like floating leaves drifting across the surface, though their true nature remained a mystery until he could observe them eye-to-eye.
The things he first took for petals were not petals at all. They were paths of flawless symmetry, rising as grand stairways that ascended toward a sublime scenery. At the crest of each path stood a structure. Maze watched in awe as he descended, marveled that these buildings were perched upon their respective heights. He surmised these were the Cabins the Directors had mentioned, with marble steps connecting them to the central pool, while the woods he had mistaken for moss lay around the paths.
A moderate chill brushed against him, yet no sun was to be seen — and so Maze found it passing strange. When he had first passed through the Door, sunrise was commencing to break, but here, the cotton clouds enveloped the sky in a shimmering, twinkling white, while the crescent moons bladed the air in flaxen gleam. He could not tell whether this was a mere illusion or there simply was some logic to this place that he could not grasp.
Either way, it appeared a land of true rest, a far cry from the Ceremony of Patrimony.
When Maze finally touched down upon the pool, his assumption about the leaves was spot on. They were heart-shaped and green, roughly the size of a common linen cloth, floating on the water as steps. It felt irrational that they could hold him, yet the leaves merely trembled slightly, carrying his weight as easily as the linen birds had.
The birds began to kiss Maze all over, their touch gentle and fleeting as they bid farewell to the Orphan they had delivered. They swarmed him for a few seconds, and Maze chuckled and let them be. The morning was fair with their kindess warming his soul.
"I hope to see you again," he wished, wondering for a moment if he could keep them before shaking the ridiculous thought away. What he truly desired was to be back among the cotton clouds, to climb toward them with the help of the birds, though it was unlikely.
He waved his hands as they departed, watching them go farther and farther until they vanished from his view.
With a heavy sigh, Maze surveyed his surroundings.
"Now, where am I?" he murmured, his voice sounding thick in the quiet.
He was still clutching the small box which held the key to his cabin. He glanced about, but the frames of the world were empty. Not a soul was in sight, and no one came to greet him, not that he expected such a thing. He had been alone since time out of mind, and usually, he preferred it that way.
The only time that had ever changed was in the Tower of the Widower.
He had never felt like an outsider.
Such old sense of being an outcast returned to him.
For some reason, he pressed a hand against his chest.
Not long after, he leaped a boot from one leaf to another before he finally walked upon a paved ground that surrounded the pool. Perhaps five or so meters of space remained before he chose one among the paths.
Each stairway entrance possessed a lychgate, yet the design of the roof was different at every entry. He scanned the surroundings and could truly perceive that every lychgate maintained its own distinct identity. Maze did not know how to feel regarding such an arrangement, for one could say there yet remained a sense of division.
In his observation, he ventured toward the northern direction. In that place, he first beheld a roof made of interconnected small wheels, layered upon one another as if to ensure no apertures remained — it was an eccentric spectacle. A signpost hung from the ceiling, and at the zenith was inscribed a word Maze did not comprehend, likely a tongue foreign to him. Beneath it resided the translation:
「Cabin of the Fifth」
Maze sought the concept of a wheel within the word 'fifth' but could not make them harmonize. If one were to assume, the fifth might be some path known to the Heirs as the way of the factionless. No other possible theory existed for whom that dwelling might belong. If that were indeed the case, the Child of Time he encountered in the opening trial truly resided in isolation.
He did not dwell further upon it.
Maze turned to the left and arrived at the northwest. Within this area stood a lychgate whose roof was made of white wings, pristine and seemingly without a blemish of grime. It appeared delicate and somewhat celestial. Merely gazing upon it proved soothing to the soul. The signpost mirrored the first, bearing strange symbols and an interpretation below stating:
「Cabin of the Death」
It was somewhat perplexing that death was white and appeared so untainted. Maze regarded it as a subtle irony, as many mortals fear the end, but observing this, it seemed to suggest a different revelation. It was refreshing to behold, like an invitation that even Maze could not decline.
A moment later, he continued until he reached the southwest quadrant. This specific canopy was teeming with living serpents, hissing and overlooking Maze as they crawled over one another. Maze even flinched, for the overhang appeared macabre, as if forbidding anyone who dared to enter. It was vile, yet simultaneously pulsing with life. The inscription upon the signpost read:
「Cabin of the Sufferance」
Soon thereafter, he proceeded to the southern direction. At this location, the roof was a standard thatched structure, merely devoid of any grand ornamentation unlike the others. Due to its humble nature, Maze already recognized which deity this cabin pertained to without perusing the sign.
"Huh, I have finally arrived." He confirmed the location was correct, and upon reading the signpost, it declared:
「Cabin of the Widower」
He then turned his gaze to the left. In truth, there was remaining time to walk, observing the various roof motifs. However, he needed to attend to other matters — like his drained Essence, and how to restore them.
He attempted to close his eyes and sensed the few leaves remaining in his Soul Tree. There were only twenty-nine left. He had only recovered a meager amount, but it was acceptable since he had not truly become sustenance for the bloodied swamp.
All gratitude belonged to the boy from Hope whom he had encountered.
Such that saved him from peril and doom once.
Maze entered the lychgate portal and ascended the stairs toward the cabin at the far end. As he walked and walked, on both sides of the staircase were looming, verdant trees where he trod upon fallen foliage with every stride, while others drifted from the boughs as the wind whispered softly. As he climbed, his eyelids began to grow heavy.
Maze did not contemplate the events further, as he desired more to rest upon a bed. Gripping the small box, he tried to cast away all his tribulations and pacify his spirit. Slowly and slowly. Until he nearly reached the summit of the stairs, standing on a quadrangle ground with pillars on all four sides bearing the same sculptural depiction.
Maze perceived only two among them, those situated in front. A statue of a figure stood before him, possibly a man yet possessing long tresses and a veil over the countenance. Maze was struck with awe, as the masonry was exquisite and the artistry was highly intricate. From its left eye peeking through the shroud, to the manner in which it embraced what seemed to be a tower.
Was it the God of the Widows?
He might have to acquire that knowledge some day.
Perhaps the area where the cabin stood was not vast, so even though he was somewhat distant, he could view it clearly. But the cabin was merely an ordinary dwelling, much like the lychgate. While the others surely possessed peculiar designs, which was what he anticipated, none were found in this spot.
I wonder why. Maze opened the casket and took the key from within. The key was black and appeared as if formed from ripened flesh, identical to the instrument he received from the Ceremony of Patrimony to open the Door. It was as if the token to unlock it had simply returned to his possession. When he attempted to grasp it, it became a ring that slithered onto his ring finger, and then he recognized the sigil. Indeed, this appears exactly the same as the one I used to open the Door to the Camp . . .
Maze transformed it back into a key and unlocked the Door.
Suddenly, he was reminded of the first time he beheld the chamber in the Tower.
A bittersweet smile etched itself upon his face.
Oh, how he missed that sanctuary.