Making their way back through the tunnel in silence, Trianglechest and Squareface arrived at the cavern they first fell into. Captain Resquilatron was already there, studying the beeping of his thing-detector while Circleface lay on the floor seemingly asleep.
"Gletrious' be Glorified", the Captain swore. He smacked the thing-detector with his fist a few times before raising it up to the hole in the ceiling.
"You better work this time, or else he consequences will be most dire."
"Are you talking to an inanimate object, Captain", Trianglechest drawled. "And you said I was going mad"
"You shut your face", the Captain growled. "I'm trying to get us all out of here. Unless you plan on living out the rest of your days in this fossilised digestive system? Does that sound appealing to you, you useless sack of space-whale blubber?"
Trianglechest held up his hands in mock surrender and replied.
"You do you Captain, I have absolute faith."
Squareface didn't bother to address this exchange and went to the corner to sit down wearily.
After a few minutes of further cursing and smacking the thing-detector against the obsidian walls (in this case, somehow, the obsidian crystal cracked while the thing-detector was completely unharmed) the Captain let out a triumphant cackle.
"Concussion therapy never fails. And if it does, it means you're not concussing it hard enough."
His beady eyes swept over the crew as he said that, and they all took a few steps back warily.
"Good thing we're all in tip top shape, eh Squareface?", Trianglechest nudged Squareface with his elbow who nodded in agreement. Even Circleface stood up and gave a double-thumbs up of endorsement.
"Bah", the Captain spat out in his characteristically venomous tone. "That's why you lot will always be the lily-lunged lavatory-ligamented latrine-livered lollygaggers you are. Now stop dawdling and stand under this hole or I sweat to Gletrious I'm leaving you behind."
Immediately, the three darted forward like a well-oiled machine and stood to attention like a military unit, awaiting the Captain's orders with not a hint of dissent. They had no doubt whatsoever in their minds that the Captain would not hesitate to leave any one of them behind.
The Captain himself joined them a few seconds later, aiming the thing-detector above himself, and spoke briefly.
"Brace yourselves"
But before they had an opportunity to do anything of the sort, as if gravity had just reversed, the four of them together fell 'upwards' into the hole. Far, far in the distance, the tiny pinprick of the now brightening night-sky was growing ever so slightly larger in their vision.
Ignoring the useless chatter of his three crew-members, Captain Resquilatron was lost in his own scheming thoughts, an expression of malevolent glee appearing unbidden on his hideous face.
'Quite a haul today. We may have used those pyramids but what we got out of it, an anomaly of that scale? Certain groups would pay handsomely for something like that. But we've stayed here too long. This place hides things, secrets. I can almost taste their rancid flavour.
But secrets are useless. Prey, on the other hand? That is exactly what we hunt. And that 'cabbage leaf' will lead us right to it.
But today was close. Danger always correlates with reward, that's just the universal law. And what we faced today was perhaps the most dangerous thing of all'
Briefly, his face grew serious and he glanced at his three crew members, lingering on Trianglechest for a moment longer.
'After all this time...'
His grave expression warped into one of steely determination looking up at the pinprick sky at the end of the tunnel in an unspoken challenge.
***
The Destiny Of All Things. It sounds all grand and majestic, but really it's quite a fragile thing. Prone to falling ill from the slightest deviation in temperature, consigning entire empires to be relegated to the dusty tomes of Scholars of Lore, or elevating an insect to the apex of all things. In fact, to call it a thing is misleading in of itself.
It is more like a property. In the same way...characters in a book could not exist without words, nothing can exist outside the template of the Destiny Of All Things. It encompasses all and all encompasses it.
The reason I mention it is because a very small group of dedicated individuals have, for a very long time, chosen the Destiny Of All Things as their chosen pursuit of study. Of course you, dear and avid reader, have already been acquainted with these individuals, even if you were not aware at the time. If you have forgotten, I don't blame you. A pea sized brain such as yours surely struggles with daily activities and lacks space in its confined quarters for extraneous knowledge, no matter how supremely well-written it may be.
As such I shall graciously extend this knowledge to you in the form of a reminder. Applaud me. Keep going. Enough.
A while back, our intrepid gazes landed upon a certain tower far from that red planet, yet not that far at all. An old man swept the courtyard in a normal fashion and a host of unseen beings within the tower were shocked senseless when a certain number ticked upwards from one...to two.
Indeed, you have guessed correctly! This extraordinary host of individuals are the ones who lay claim to the greatest insight in the Destiny Of All Things. This time, the old man was absent from his post outside, the accumulated leaves indicating a fairly lengthy period of time having passed.
A slight wind stirred and the leaves shifted. As they did so, their golden brown colour glinted off the bright sun, shining with a divine light that exuded a sense of purity such that any watching would weep tears at the action of defiling their existence with their unworthy sight! Those holy articles, glowing with a soft yet clearly powerful light, were swept away, nay, gently carried by the unseen winds, swirling in patterns that hid mysteries of Origin, of Interstice, of Terminus! Various hyperfauna and sacred myriarchs emerged from planes beyond unbidden to bask in the bounteous glory of those swirling leaves, the sheer weight of the aura of enlightenment gaining such immense gravity that any lesser god would have been forced to their knees instantly!
Hehe, I lied. None of that actually happened. The leaves were normal leaves and the wind was normal wind and there were no mysteries of the greater universe hidden within their movements. You really need to get some mental help.
Anyways, within the tower was a spacious hall. At the far end of the hall, that wall still sat, covered with that ever-changing script. The Lexicon Omnium. The language of all. The lens through which they study the Destiny Of All Things.
At that current moment, however, the esteemed individuals within were barely paying any attention to the wall, embroiled in a heated discussion.
"That can't be right, it just can't be!"
"The Lexicon Omnium is never wrong, you know that. To suggest otherwise is blasphemy!"
"Perhaps we misinterpreted it? It could have happened and it is much more likely than...the other possibility."
"You're all fools, blinded by your egos, sticking your heads in the sand like ostriches! Face the reality, the worst possible situation has already happened. We need to focus on what happens next!".
The janitor stood solemnly to one side, gripping his broom tightly, before interjecting, the rest of the voices going silent.
"Oasis speaks correctly. Denying it would be an exercise in folly and I think we are all far beyond such things. Are we to fall to the same arrogant blindness of assuming nothing can occur outside our knowledge? That all the mysteries of creation have been bared to us? Is that why we do what we do?"
The janitor's admonition echoed in the newfound silence of that hall. The voice he called Oasis replied grimly.
"It is as you say, Ark. But there are no protocols for this, nothing saw this coming! I mean, one was bad enough, but two?"
The voices as a collective shuddered, but a younger sounding one spoke out in confusion.
"Uncle, you brought me to watch but what exactly is going on? One has become two? One of what?"
The voices grew silent, casting their invisible gaze towards the janitor who's serene face had an expression of harsh finality. For a moment, his age could be clearly visible in the wrinkled lines of his furrowed brow, but was banished when he opened his very normal, though serious, brown eyes.
"Do not speak of them outside here, child, for they can hear you. Do not think of them outside here, because they will think of you. Do not dream of them, for they shall enter your dreams. Do not seek them out, for you shall find them waiting."
"Find who?", the voice interrupted with the impatience of youth.
The following, terrible syllables he spoke echoed mournfully in that hall, as though the world itself strained to bear their weight.
"The Trinacornagons"
Behind him, that unchanging spot on the wall representing these feared creatures seemed even more ominous for having been named. At the same time, unknown to all those illustrious beings lost in the throes of a cataclysmic realisation, a single crow's feather floated down and landed in the corner of the hall.
Only the old man noticed pursing his lips into a thin line, his brows furrowing as his eyes flashed with countless hidden thoughts.