TravelingDreamer
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B7—Chapter 31: Ashara’s Forgotten Halls
🕑 Added 2025-10-15 15:18:37 +0000 UTCThe next Gate was five days away, but thankfully, it required only one train ride and some trekking, or in our case, flying. After we secured the tickets for the following day, Mahya left us, saying, “I need to do something.”
“I will look to secure more herbs,” Al said, then headed off in the opposite direction.
Rue and I decided to explore the city’s culinary side. Unlike most places in this world, the witches didn’t divide restaurants by status—anyone could sit anywhere. It gave the city a laid-back charm, as if food itself were the great equalizer. The air was thick with the mingling scents of roasting meat, baked goods, and sweet fruit wine, and we followed our noses through narrow cobbled alleys until we found a small garden restaurant tucked between two houses.
The place didn’t look like much at first glance. It had a handful of mismatched tables set under climbing vines and wild-growing flowers. The air carried the scent of herbs and sizzling fat. A lazy cat slept near the door, and the gentle trickle of a small fountain mixed with distant chatter. A witch in a green apron waved us in with a smile and handed us clay menus that smelled faintly of smoke and spice.
We started our self-declared gourmet tour with a dish called cherigo steak. The name inspired little confidence, but the first bite erased all doubt. The steak was perfectly seared, glistening with its own juices, and the marbled fat melted like butter. It reminded me of an entrecôte back on Earth, only richer and somehow sweeter, as if infused with a faint hint of mango and wood smoke. The chef served it with lightly salted roasted root curls and a sauce that shimmered faintly with mana, enhancing the flavor without overwhelming it.
Rue approved wholeheartedly, if the happy thump of his tail and the three steaks he inhaled were anything to go by.
The next place we found was a cozy bakery tucked beside a narrow canal, its windows fogged from the heat of the ovens. Warm light spilled through the glass, and the air was rich with the scent of baked dough, caramelized glaze, and something earthy that reminded me faintly of roasted nuts. Inside, rows of round, golden pastries sat cooling on wide wooden trays. The locals didn’t call them pies, not even in translation. They called them surprise cakes. But they were pies in every sense of the word.
Some had flaky crusts with crimped edges; others were glossy with a brushed glaze. The baker, a broad-shouldered man with flour on his arms, offered us a mix of meat, vegetable, and fruit fillings. Rue, naturally, went straight for the meat ones, devouring one before I even sat down, and another three at the table. I tried two of the fruit versions, and to my surprise, they were almost familiar. The filling was sweet and tangy, with a texture like baked apples but made from some crimson, seed-speckled fruit. The second one tasted faintly floral, balanced with something tart that made my tongue tingle pleasantly.
It was strange how something so foreign could feel so close to home. For a moment, the warmth, the smells, and the simple joy of eating pie made me ache with nostalgia. I never thought I’d miss Earth or anything about it, but apparently, even across worlds, comfort food still had its tricks. Live and learn. Or in my case, travel and learn.
With full bellies, we visited one of the flower squares. This time, I didn’t study the runes or search for the connected circles scattered across the city. Instead, I found a bench in the shade and let the mix of floral scents wash over me. Rue went off to explore and made friends with two massive black birds. They were about the size of turkeys, with broad wings and a piercing, almost shrill call. Despite the terrible sound they made, Rue and the birds seemed to speak the same language. They quickly found common ground. He ran between the flower circles while they chased him or hopped onto his back for a ride.
In the evening, when we got back to the inn, Mahya and Al were already there. Mahya looked gloomy.
“What happened?” I asked.
She sighed, a deep, heavy sound that seemed to rise from the bottom of her soul. “I looked for the spells I need and a stone.” She shot Al an annoyed glance when she mentioned the stone. “And didn’t find anything.”
I patted her shoulder. “Don’t lose hope. We’ll get you the spells.”
We went to sleep early, and the next day boarded the train right after sunrise. It was a terrible departure time, but once our compartment was locked and the Do Not Disturb sign was up, we went back to sleep to make up for the lost hours.
The train ride was smooth enough, except for my growing disappointment. Each morning, I woke up with my mana sense deactivated. That had been normal for years, but now that I was trying to keep it active in my sleep, it frustrated me. It also broke my expectations. Most Wizard-related things came easily to me, and I was sure this part would too, but apparently not.
Bummer.
On the fourth night of the trip, Al came out of his lab with a triumphant smile. “The potion is ready,” he announced in a proud tone.
Mahya jumped to her feet, grinning like a maniac.
I frowned. “What potion?”
“The potion,” Mahya said with emphasis.
I stared between them until it finally hit me. Without a word, I pulled a bottle of whisky from my storage and set it on the table with a thud.
Al opened it with ceremony, then poured in a small vial of the potion, maybe twenty drops, and shook the bottle with all the gravity of a scientist mixing volatile acids.
Mahya and I were practically hopping on our toes with excitement. I wasn’t much of a drinker, at least not most of the time, but this one had me oddly enthusiastic. Maybe it was the month of hearing about the option, or the endless search for the rare plants. Either way, it felt like a moment worth celebrating.
I took a cautious sip, hoping it wouldn’t ruin the flavor too much. There was an aftertaste, but it wasn’t bad. It reminded me a little of rosemary and added a touch of sweetness. All in all, if it could get us occasionally drunk, or better yet, pleasantly buzzed, the taste was fine.
The potion worked. Maybe a little too well. Or maybe it was the fact that we demolished two entire bottles. Either way, I woke up in bed, thankfully, with my mouth tasting like something had crawled in and died there. Still, no hangover. Just foggy memories of the night before.
I vaguely remembered Mahya standing on the table, belting out “I Will Survive” like a battle anthem, while Al danced. At least I thought he did. The image was so absurd that I doubted my own memory. Al dancing was as believable as Rue giving a lecture on philosophy.
I sighed and decided some mysteries were better left unsolved. Certain truths were too ridiculous to confirm anyway.
“John! Train stop,” Rue shouted inside my head.
I jolted upright, blankets flying, and scrambled out of bed. My shirt was halfway on before I realized it was inside out. Doesn’t matter. I shoved my arms through, put on pants, tugged on my boots, and rushed to wake Mahya and Al.
When I yanked open my door, I almost bowled Mahya over. She stood there mid-knock, braids sticking out in all directions and eyes half-open.
“Teach Rue not to shout,” she said, voice thick with sleep.
“No problem,” I said, already knocking on Al’s door. “Al, wake up! The train stopped. I need to close the house.”
Silence.
I tried the handle. Locked. I knocked again, louder this time. “Al, wake up!”
Still nothing.
Mahya and I exchanged a look—hers annoyed, mine exasperated.
“Ideas?” I asked.
“Leave him to sleep it off,” she said with a shrug. “If we don’t have to disembark immediately, we’ll come back for him.”
Unfortunately, the train had already reached the station, and the steady stream of passengers hurrying past the windows told me it had been there for a while. It was only a ten-minute stop. We had to move.
“Rue, stay inside the house and tell Al what happened. I’ll close the door.”
Rue trotted inside obediently. Mahya hesitated for a moment, glancing between the window and the door that led into the pocket house. Then she sighed, shrugged, and stepped through it.
I blinked after her, mouth half-open. What the hell? It was too much before coffee, and I didn’t even have a ready pot.
Rubbing my face, I sealed the house and stepped off the train. The morning air hit me like a slap, cool and sharp and far too awake for my current state. I looked around for a quiet corner, but the station was overflowing with people dragging luggage, children darting between legs, and people shouting all around me. Ugh. The bathrooms had a line that could have qualified as a pilgrimage, so that was not an option either.
After ten minutes of wandering in circles, I finally spotted two parked buses beside a maintenance shed. No one was around. Perfect. I slipped between them, turned invisible, opened the Map, and took off toward the Gate.
Flying helped more than any cup of coffee could. The wind tugged at my clothes, the world below turning into a blur of colors. Towns and fields stretched beneath me, in contrast to the chaos I had left behind. For a moment, I thought about landing, opening the house, and letting everyone out, but the image of Mahya’s morning mood and Al snoring through an emergency convinced me otherwise.
After about an hour, I reached the slope of the mountain where the Gate stood. It was an odd one. Instead of cliffs or boulders serving as anchors, it rested inside a shallow cave. The surrounding air shimmered faintly with mana eddies, and the entrance looked just big enough to step through.
I stood there for a moment, staring at it, and shrugged. Cave it is.
Travelers Gate #96872217
Destination: Ashara
Status: Integrated
Mana level: 27
Threat level: Low
I flew around, looking for a ledge big enough to open my house where no one would push anyone off the mountain, then stopped. It was a good chance to test something I had been curious about. I crossed the Gate with the core in my Storage and the stowaways in my house. It worked like a charm. No problems whatsoever, and no reaction from the Gate. I expected that, since we were all Travelers, but it was good to confirm my assumptions.
What was less good was the other side. It was dark, and it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust after the bright sun outside. The air was cold and stale. Dust hung in it, dry enough to scratch the throat.
The Gate sat inside a huge cavern that swallowed sound. Arches rose overhead, chipped and leaning. Broken streets ran between dead buildings. Most windows were hollow. Some doorways had collapsed, leaving piles of stone across the paths.
Nothing moved. The silence sat heavily, making every slight noise stand out. Somewhere, a pebble rolled, then stopped. The echo took its time to die.
A wide arch framed a ruined square ahead. The ground there was uneven and cracked. A dome with missing ribs sagged over one corner, as if it wanted to give up but had not yet managed it. Farther back, more arches repeated in the dark, row after row, like a tunnel that never ended.
I cast Light Ball, but kept it at a low output, just in case. The floor was rough and slick in places, and the place smelled of old stone and cold ash. I listened for a full minute. Nothing. Then I moved toward the square, slow and careful, checking corners and gaps. A narrow stairwell dropped to the side, choked by rubble. Another passage curved away under an arch and vanished into a deeper pocket of dark.
This was a city, not a cave. Streets, doors, and what looked like a temple or a hall with a cracked dome. Whoever built it didn’t leave yesterday.
I stopped at the edge of the square and tested the ground with my boot. Solid enough. Growling at myself for not reading the World Information before crossing the Gate, since Mahya wasn’t there to stop me with her “No spoilers” spiel, I took another step and scanned the upper levels. No light, banners, smoke, or anything else.
First things first, I took a picture for my scrapbook, hoping it would turn out well. The place was too dark, even with my small Light Ball, and I didn’t dare make it brighter. Who knew what might lurk in the dark?
After I looked over the surrounding buildings and streets, I was relieved that nothing was lurking nearby. At least not in my immediate vicinity. Choosing a sturdy-looking building, I placed the core against the wall and activated it. Inside, the gang was in the living room, and the moment I stepped in, Mahya said, “Took you long enough.”
I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I gestured for them to go outside and went to finally make coffee and breakfast.
Comments
TravelingDreamer
If they don’t check their profile then no
Silver Beard
Hmm, they didn't notice the uptick in their gate crossing? Or do they not get the acknowledgement inside the house as they didn't physically cross on their own power?
Silver Beard
I considered that as well until it was mentioned that they could hear him snoring.
Amelia Gaughan
I was half-expecting them to accidentally leave Al behind haha
