Public Constellations No Longer Charted [Ossus]

[Avarice]

Tags: Open

The gorge opened into a sunlit clearing where the ruin stood half-swallowed by earth and vine. Once a proud Jedi archive, its pillars now leaned under the weight of centuries, their carvings worn to faint ghosts of once robed figures, lost constellations, a great tree with roots curling into runes.

A wide archway gaped at the center, its fractured crystal inlays catching stray light. The doors were long gone, leaving rusted hinges and a spill of pale vines across the threshold. Cool air drifted from within, scented of stone and dust.

Above the arch, an open hand cradled a flame, stone-carved, yet seeming almost... to flicker.

Avarice made his way in to the darkness venturing forth in to the unknown. Perhaps something useful still rested here.

 

[Avarice]

The air grew cooler the deeper he ventured into the darkened maw of what had once been a great hall. Bits of broken stone lay scattered across the temple floor, while patches of moss and lichen mottled the ground. Faded murals clung stubbornly to the walls, and half-formed constellations seemed to peer down from above. A few narrow beams of light filtered through small holes in the broken ceiling, casting pale shafts across the dust.

Silence prevailed as Avarice entered a larger antechamber. Shelves of ancient stone lined the walls, their contents long since plundered or rotted away. In one far corner, the skeletal frame of a collapsed staircase curled into the shadows, leading deeper into the ruins. Somewhere beyond, the steady drip of water echoed, each drop marking time's slow passage. The air here carried the scent of dust and old paper, with a faint metallic tang that lingered at the back of the tongue.

 

[Avarice]

He exhaled slowly, the sound barely disturbing the stillness, eyes tracing the fractured grandeur of the ruins. Perhaps there was little left here in the way of anything useful after all. His gaze lifted toward the upper levels, crimson eyes glinting faintly in the thin light as they swept across the skeletal remains of the bookshelves, stone frames now stripped bare, save for the occasional scrap of parchment clinging to a corner like a stubborn ghost.

One shelf, half-buried under a fallen beam, bore a deeper shadow than the rest. The faint glimmer of something metallic caught his eye in the gloom. It was small and out of place among the dust and rubble.

 

[Avarice]

How ever had it ended up all the way up there? His gaze drifted once more to the ruined staircase, tracing the jagged break where stone met empty air. Stepping to a spot nearby, he judged the gap in silence.

The Force gathered at his call, coiling through muscle and bone. In a single bound, he vaulted upward, boots striking the upper floor with a solid thud. Momentum carried him forward in several quick steps before he came to a halt amid the dust and shadow.

 

[Avarice]

The upper floor groaned faintly beneath his weight, the aged stone creaking with an unsettling sound like distant thunder. Here, the dust lay thicker, disturbed only by the faint trails of insects and the occasional fallen scrap of parchment curled with age.

The shelves loomed taller at this height, their near empty frames casting long shadows in the fractured light. In one alcove, half-concealed behind a sagging length of tattered wall-hanging, a faint metallic glint winked in the gloom... the same glimmer he had seen from below.

The air was cooler even still, carrying with it the faint musk of old leather and the sharper, almost acrid tang of oxidized metal.

 

[Avarice]

Tentatively, Avarice stepped forward, each footfall a cautious test. The upper level groaned faintly, and it seemed at any moment the floor might give way beneath him. He reached out, fingers curling around the metallic glint, and plucked it from the stone shelf.

It was a fragment of a lightsaber hilt, its grip split and wiring long stripped away, yet the emitter crown still clung to its battered frame. The metal was cool and heavy in his hand, its surface worn to a dark patina. Faint engravings traced the rim, their designs softened by time but still suggesting an artistry not born of mass production.

 

[Avarice]

The fragment's weight shifted subtly in his palm, heavier than the sum of its metal and dust. Cold crept up his fingers, and the quiet of the ruin deepened until even the drip of water fell silent.

In the next breath, the shadows swelled, and his vision blurred into a moment not his own.

The hall was whole again. Shelves brimming with datacrons. The scent of polished stone and fresh parchment. A figure stood in the center, robed and steady, the hilt whole in their grasp. They ignited the blade, a pure silver light, and raised it in silent defiance toward something unseen.

 

[Avarice]

Avarice shook his head, dispelling the vision. The hall was ruin once more, dust curling in the cold air around him. The fragment lay inert in his grip, its etchings dim and lifeless, yet the echo of that silver light lingered at the edge of thought.

"How often does the cycle of destruction repeat…" he huffed aloud, sliding the lightsaber fragment into a pocket. His gaze shifted downward, sweeping over the shadowed hall below, its broken shelves and fractured pillars now looking smaller from this height.

 

[Avarice]

From this height, the fallen beams formed a rough circle on the floor...like a broken wheel. A lone shaft of sunlight pierced its center, dust drifting within it like faint, dying embers.

"Now I wonder what that was supposed to be... Maybe a compass?" He mused aloud before hopping down and moving towards the center... He crossed an arm over his chest and set a hand to his chin considering the image below.

 

[Avarice]

He slowly began to pace around the circle, boots crunching over grit, trying to discern the true image beneath the dust and scattered debris. Faint lines curved outward from the center, some broken, others still intact. Beneath a patch of rubble, a chipped stone inlay caught the light, the edge of a starburst perhaps? Avarice couldn't discern what this meant.

He crouched, brushing away more debris with the edge of his boot, but the image refused to take full shape. Whatever it had once represented was fractured with a message half-erased by time. He straightened, crimson eyes narrowing as he traced the incomplete starburst with his gaze. Perhaps it was meant to guide, or to warn. Either way, it had been important once upon a time.

He moved to step away and his boot pressed down on a tile with a click. A faint shift of stone sounded underfoot, the vibration carrying up through his boots.

 

[Avarice]

Avarice coughed, lifting a hand to wave the dust away, wincing as the dry air caught in his throat. "Well then…" he muttered, glancing into the darkness below. The glow from the starburst pattern barely touched the stone walls descending into the unknown, as if the light itself hesitated to follow.

 

[Avarice]

Avarice stepped to the edge, peering into the narrow shaft. A spiral of worn stone steps wound down into the dark, hugging the curve of the walls. He moved to set a boot on the first step and starts his descent, the faint amber glow from above following only a short way before fading entirely.

The spiral ends at a circular landing. In the far wall waits a massive stone door, its surface etched with worn carvings, starbursts, constellations, and curling roots all radiating from a central disc in the darkness. The disc is divided into three concentric rings, each marked with mismatched symbols.

A faint draft seeps from the hairline seam around the door, carrying that same old-metal scent. Stepping closer, he lays a hand on the innermost ring, and it shifts slightly under his touch with a soft click... It was a mechanism waiting to be aligned.

His fingers trace the carvings, following the shallow grooves worn by centuries. The outer ring bears constellations, the middle etched with curling roots, and the inner marked by fragments of a starburst.

Somewhere in his mind, the image from the hall above flickers again: the broken wheel, the beam of light at its center. Perhaps this lock mirrors that pattern. He griped the inner ring and turned it, the stone grinding softly as the symbols shift beneath his touch.

 

[Avarice]

The rings resist at first, then loosen with a muted scrape. He aligned the starburst fragments on the innermost ring so they form a complete shape at the center. Turning the middle ring, he matched the curling roots so they flow outward from the base of the starburst. Finally, he rotated the outer ring until the constellations align with the same positions he saw carved into the pillars above the hall.

When the final constellation clicks into place, the three rings sink flush with the door. A low rumble vibrated through the stone, dust raining from the ceiling as ancient gears turn within the walls. Slowly, the massive door splits down the center, opening just wide enough for a single person to slip through.