Chapter 248 Nameless Stones
The morning was silent. Even the birds were reluctant to make a sound.
Fitran and Rinoa stood at the threshold of a hidden crevice behind the crumbling monoliths. As the sun rose slowly from the east, its light refracted perfectly onto the stone wall—this was where shadows became clues. Behind this wall lay traces of the Proto-Speech history, an ancient language said to connect souls with the universe. Recognized as a revelation for those who study it, Proto-Speech has the power to unveil the truths hidden within the dimensions of time.
Not their own shadows, but rather the shadows of text that could only be seen at certain times. The script was not carved but rather light reflecting from stone to stone, forming a pattern like a series of mantras. In the hanging morning silence, the light shimmered and appeared to beckon them closer. One by one, the Proto-Speech letters glowed faintly:
"Gamma is not found by those who walk forward,
but by those who remember the first form of the world."
Rinoa read it slowly. "Gamma is not a place, Fitran. It is... the structure of something older than a place." The echoes of those words stirred in their minds, as if awakening buried memories within their souls. The history of Gamma carried ideas about self-discovery and understanding their origins. It was a journey towards a truth submerged in myths and legends, suggesting that the veil of time could indeed be torn through knowledge and curiosity.
Fitran pressed his palm against the wall. The stone was not solid. It vibrated faintly, like a breath of an ancient being sleeping behind time. Each vibration seemed to call forth forgotten memories, reminding them of tales that once formed a part of a lost world. These stones, silent witnesses of historic events, already held mysteries that could guide them further in their quest for identity.
Then—the wall opened.
They stepped into the endless corridor. The stones around them seemed to have two sides: one rough like bone; the other smooth like a mirror, reflecting dreams and memories, rather than their own faces. Each step they took stirred echoes that absorbed energy from every element surrounding them. The sounds that bounced back were not merely echoes; they were manifestations of hopes and doubts revealed through the long history of human existence.
Their footsteps produced echoes.
However, the echoes were not identical—each echo reflected a different word. The sounds were the rhythm of a journey to an era filled with the awakening of the soul. One by one, they immersed themselves in the profound meanings within the words, unraveling layer upon layer of their own identities. In this endless corridor, they were bound to the essence of eternity.