The sandstorm continued, shaking every inch of the Tower powerfully, but the sentinel stood strong, unfazed, withstanding the mighty force that was crashing against it.
Terence sat cross-legged at the base of the Tower where she woke up, a deep frown etched on her face, and her eyes were closed.
While Helena and Raven continued to read whatever they could, going from room to room.
The sandstorm, with deafening roars of thunder–or so it seemed–continued.
And Northern’s focus did not waver through it all. The white-haired kid continued to study the scripts on the wall, flavored by different moods at different times.
But alas, he was finally back at the tenth floor which served as the base of the Tower.
He continued to read until he got to the entrance, around where Terence was seated.
Despite being near her, the Oracle did not open her eyes; instead, she just shifted a little so Northern could have his way with whatever they were doing.
The doors of the Tower had long been closed, and everything was shrouded in an encroaching darkness.
At a time, the subtle glow that was seeping in from slight cracks all disappeared, hinting at the presence of the night.
There were a few glows in the darkness, some certain symbols and Northern’s azure eyes.
He finally paused as he looked down and shivered with a pale face.
“What… the last path is missing? Or rather… he didn’t get to finish it?”
There was a start of a statement connoted by a single stroke, but it seemed like the writer had hesitated at the last minute and decided not to write down the most important thing in his chronicle.
Northern couldn’t help but be so angry.
It was a lot of suspense!
He grimaced at the texts and fell back, landing on his butt and leaning on his hand.
“Damn, I’m tired,” he muttered to himself.
He had probably been standing for over six hours and wasn’t even self-aware because of how absorbed he was in the script.
It made him remember days where he would study for exams and read twelve hours straight with twenty-minute breaks every three hours.
Those were days when he truly enjoyed himself.
‘Maybe I should consider becoming a scholar, that way I’d have access to a lot of books and spend most of my time reading.’
Northern was book-smart; he knew how to comprehend hard subjects and had a knack for accurate and precise mathematical problem-solving abilities.
Also, in collaboration with–to an extent–a retentive memory.
But there was a vast difference between book-smart and street-smart.
While being book-smart was commendable, it didn’t earn one survival in the harsh society, not of Earth, not of Tra-el.
And that’s why Northern… had lost on Earth before.
Yet, he was making the same mistake, slowly heading towards his loss in this world too.
But this time was different; at the very least, he was being objective and ascertaining himself.
And surrounded by… well… people who spoke the truth–even though he didn’t trust them.
After a while, everywhere became silent, in a way deafening too.
Northern laid on the ground, his eyes closed, ruminating on all that he had read just now.
“Are you that happy?” Terence’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
He opened his eyes and raised his head to look at the Oracle–her eyes were still closed.
“Happiness is not the word. It’s just exciting.”
“I see…”
Her voice simmered down after that.
Silence ensued for a couple more seconds before Northern’s voice came forth.
“You seem angry.”
“That’s because I am.” Her response and tone were as sharp as a dagger’s edge.
“Why?”
“Ul warned me not to come…”
“But at the same time, they said you gave the warning of a sandstorm.” He tried to be cautious with his tone and the words he used.
“I know.” The girl’s frown seemed to soften a little. “I wish I had an answer too. But I am a vessel that houses favor from Ul. If her voice comes today and asks me to die, then I have no choice, Northern. I will gladly die.”
‘Uh… her life must suck…’
Northern couldn’t imagine himself dying because someone else deemed it so, not in this life, not ever.
Which was one of the reasons he detested religion, fanatics who took to the extreme commandments of beings painted by legends and myths.
But on the other hand, Ul was real… the Origins were, and the Tyrants too.
But something bothered him.
Cautiously, he looked at Terence and opened his mouth,
“Terence. I have a question.”
The Oracle turned her head to him and smiled—without opening her eyes.
“This is the first time you have called my name.”
Northern wore a face of slight shock; he didn’t even notice.
“You can ask your question.”
His gaze became a little more serious than before.
“Is Ul… do you think she is an Origin, Tyrant, or a god?”
Terence was silent for a while; she hesitated but spoke, firstly saying:
“I’m not sure what you mean by god…”
‘Right, she doesn’t understand what a god is.’
There were some words that in the common language of Tra-
el were untranslated.
Northern had by his own self put the words together from his knowledge of alphabets, but yet no one understood it, simply because it didn’t exist.
It had happened with his parents again, and Northern had tried to be careful, but this time, it just spilled because those were his thoughts in actuality.
He was beginning to consider the chances of Ul being an actual god… or in this case, goddess.
Terence breathed and said:
“I’m not sure myself… after knowing about the history of the rifts, the existence of the Tyrants and the Origins, I have asked myself so many controversial questions about Ul.
“The knowledge that was passed down to me goes as thus:
“Ul is a convolution of stars, the line that connects one constellation to another. And you know what constellations are, right?”
“A bodification of Souls, to put it in a way, they were the first materialization to ever exist, and Ul is considered their mother and the mother of the world.”