The door clicked shut, and then Casteel landed behind me. I turned, wondering if he’d jumped, but he turned to face me. Suddenly, we were chest to chest. Under the scent of rich soil, there was the hint of him. Of pine and spice. His eyes met mine, and I quickly looked away, unsettled by…everything.
“What is this?” I asked, hoping my voice sounded steadier than it felt.
“It is different things to different people.” Casteel stepped around me, his shoulder and hip brushing mine. I knew the shiver had nothing to do with the surroundings.
His hand curved around mine once more, and the spark of his skin touching mine traveled up my arm. “To some people, this is a place of reflection,” he said as he began walking, and I wondered if he felt that charge of energy. We continued down the tunnel. “For some, it is a place to bear witness to what many strive to forget.”
The shadows ahead disappeared as the tunnel came to an end. Several feet of stairs led down into a space that opened into what appeared to be some sort of circular chamber with high ceilings and…dear gods, it had to be the length of the keep itself. Dozens and dozens of torches jutted out from the stone, casting light across the chamber’s walls. Only the center was in shadows. Within that gloom, there appeared to be several benches.
“To others, this is simply a tomb. Hallowed ground.” Casteel let go of my hand. “One of the few places in all of Solis where those who have lost family members to the Ascended can mourn.”
I was moving before I knew it, walking down the stairs and then onto the chamber’s floor. Pedestals were situated every couple of feet, and upon them rested slender chisels and hammers. I went to the right, my gaze crawling over the wall—over what was etched into the stone. There were words. Names. Ages. Some with epithets. Others with none. As I drew closer, I saw sketches carved into the stone. Portraits rendered by capable, artistic hands. A shuddering breath left me as I followed the curve of the wall. The names…there were so many of them. They flowed over the surface, from floor to ceiling, but the dates were what formed a knot in my chest, each marking the birth and then the death. The realization that many shared the same death dates moved the knot to my throat, and the recognition of those dates caused the carvings in the wall to blur.
Quite a few of the death dates were sporadic, some several hundred years ago. While others were only a decade or five years ago, or last year, or…or a couple of months ago. But many others had dates that lined up with the Rites of the past.
And the ages…
My hand clutched at my chest. Two years of age. Seven months of age. Four years and six months of age. Ten years of age. And on and on. There were so many. Thousands. Thousands and thousands of children. Babies.
“They…they are from the Rites,” I broke the silence, my voice thick and hoarse.
“Many are, but others are Descenters who were killed,” he answered from somewhere behind me. “Some died of what the Ascended call a wasting disease, but in truth, it was due to uncontrolled feedings.”
My eyes squeezed shut as Mr. and Mrs. Tulis appeared in my mind’s eye. They had lost two children that way. Two.
“And some of the names, the ones you’ll notice have no end dates?” He was closer now. “They represent those who’ve disappeared, presumed to have become Craven or are dead.”
Opening my eyes, I blinked back tears. I stepped closer, reaching out to trace the grooves that formed cheeks and eyes, but stopped short. Below, set against the wall, were old, dried flowers. Some fresh ones. Pieces of jewelry that glimmered faintly in the firelight. A necklace. A bracelet. A ring. Two wedding bands laid to overlap one another. My hand shook as I drew it back to my chest. I stopped in front of a stuffed animal. An old bear with a pale ribbon as a crown. My throat burned.
“These are only a small fraction of the lives taken by the Ascended. There are large chambers with not a single space left for even one more name. And these are only the names of the mortals who were taken.” Each word bitterly clipped. “In Atlantia, walls that travel as far as the eye can see carry the names of our fallen.”
Swallowing hard, I spread my fingers over my cheeks, brushing away dampness as I stared at the bear.
“I am not without sin. I’m sure that I’ve caused names to be carved into different walls, but I am not them.” His voice was quiet in the chamber, and yet it somehow still echoed. “We are not them. And all that I ask is that the next time you think I am no better than an Ascended, you think of the names on these walls.”