prison?" Derek asked, his voice echoing slightly in the vast emptiness.
"Of course," Quarren replied, his tone dismissive. "The rumors say that the three brothers—Void, Abyss, and Oblivion—offended a god. So the god tied their souls to the three trees and severed them from the grand perpetual motion system that swaps souls between the Land of the Living and the Dead, making each tree into some sort of phylactery for their souls. That way, they never truly die."
"How is that even possible?" Derek asked, his brow furrowed in disbelief.
Quarren chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. "In this reality… anything… is… possible. Let your imagination run as wild as it can. Just think of anything at all, and there's some bastard out there that can bring it to reality. Always remember this if you want to survive."
Derek nodded slowly,
"But why would a god imprison them like so?"
"Ah, you ask too many questions. I don't remember being this inquisitive when I was a Convert. that's too far back to remember anything, actually." Quarren grumbled to himself, paused for a moment, and continued.
"Anyways, what makes you think they're the prisoners? They're actually the prison guards. The forest is the prison, and the prisoners are actually ancient, nameless horrors that we don't have any business discussing. And the punishment of these brothers is to keep these horrors imprisoned."
"So, does that mean all three of the brothers are still alive right now?" Derek asked, his eyes scanning the empty landscape.
"Well, it all depends on which version of the rumors you want to hear." Quarren started before continuing
"In some versions, Oblivion's brothers betrayed him and found a way to escape, leaving him alone to deal with those ancient horrors. So that's why Oblivion always scans through the memories of people, searching for his brothers, and also why he breaks the minds of people that weren't warriors, as his brothers weren't warriors, so non-warriors are regarded as traitors by him.
Another version claims that Oblivion found a way to help his brothers break free from their curse. He erased their memories, their persons, their personalities, sins, and blemishes. That was the power of Oblivion. Since memory is one's axis of recognition, the phylactery couldn't call back their souls anymore, and they all now reside inside Oblivion. In this version, Oblivion's brothers were warriors, like himself.
The rumors also say that Oblivion kept doing the same for other warriors that came to him, thinking they were his brothers, who had died and were being respawned by the phylactery again and again."
"So, Oblivion doesn't essentially know that his initial attempt worked?" Derek asked, looking around to see if his helmet was still with him.
"Well, as it might appear, the Tree of Oblivion doesn't seem too far away. Why don't you go ask him?
Besides, all these are just baseless rumors that lazy people amuse themselves with during their leisure time. I wouldn't bet a penny that any of it actually holds an iota of truth." Quarren retorted.
Derek's eyes darkened, not because of Quarren's vituperative quips, he'd gotten used to that. But because he noticed something quite strange. What's worse, he still couldn't find his helmet anywhere. It looked like things were about to get even more complex and confusing than he first thought.
"You know, you still haven't answered my question," Derek said, his voice low. "I asked where we are and how did we get here."
"Wait, what? Are you asking me? You're the one with the eyes… and the legs! I should be asking you."
"Oh, at least I'm not the one going, 'I have lived a thousand useless years haha,'" Derek retorted, trying to mimic Quarren's grating voice.
"Fine, I'll tell you where I think we are!" Quarren quipped.
Derek smirked. He had come to realize that Quarren would always defend against anything that might besmirch his status as a knowledgeable, perspicacious, ancient existence. It was a reliable trigger, and Derek enjoyed exploiting it.
"I think we're in the tunnels underneath the Forest of Oblivion. But about how we got here, I can't tell you that. I really should be asking you."
"I think I might know that," Derek continued, his voice lowering, taking on a more serious tone.
"I was dragged here by someone. I can remember it vaguely now.
When Oblivion took away the false memories and I almost died, I saw that there was a silhouette who looked out of place. And I'm guessing these footprints belong to this mysterious stranger"
Derek said, his voice low. He knelt, his fingers tracing the faint footprints in the dust.
"Doesn't belong to a burly person, that's for sure. And whoever it was, they weren't wearing any footwear."
His gaze narrowed. "Whoever it was, I will find them."
He rose and turned to the mace, "So, where do we go from here?" Derek asked, his tone impatient, cutting through Quarren's introspective silence.
"Look around, you'll find a range of mountains that looks like a sleeping ram."
Derek scanned the horizon, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
"Found it," he said, quickening his steps. He began walking with renewed vigor towards the landmark.
It seemed having his first sleep since he got to the afterlife was a nice development, even though it wasn't in the way he had imagined he would fall asleep.
Quarren replied.
"Great. We don't want to go there. That's where the ant colony is situated, so you go directly opposite that"
Derek harrumphed, turning on his heel. He looked up to the sky.
Well technically there wasn't a sky, only gnarled roots, tangled together through the soil in a messy mesh, a grotesque imitation of a canopy. The only source of light came from beyond both distant mountain ranges, a pale, diffused glow that cast long, distorted shadows across the land.
Morbid.
"Why do you call this place tunnels, anyway? Feels more like some subterranean landscape to me."
Quarren scoffed. "You'll soon find out."