The Mountain’s Heart

Welcome! This story started as something of an experiment with utilizing AI to better gather my thoughts and outline stories, since I write better with an outline but struggle with the actual process. I understand there’s a lot of discussion regarding AI and its use in artistry and, more importantly, how the engineers are feeding the algorithms copyrighted work without legal consent or any regard to intellectual property.

Having said that, I do want to stress that while I worked with ChatGPT to establish an outline and offer a few ideas when I knew what I wanted to accomplish and didn’t know quite how to do it, the final story is mine, and is not AI-generated. All of this was done prior to knowing how ChatGPT is trained, and I have since stopped the practice of outlining and consulting AI for anything related to my creative writing. But I do love this story and want to share it, so here it is:

The first to arrive was Ithara, dark braid tight and straight, her worn leather armor buffed. She ascended the stairs to the temple, hopeful her information was correct. If it was, ten years of discord and skirmishes would cease once she claimed the artifact inside.

She stepped inside the tall oaken doors with the key her source had provided. The Dawn Age architecture inside, with its intricate lines and curves, drew her into the temple’s grand hall. At the far end stood another door, smaller, unlocked. She strode into the darkness beyond.

Second was Kaelen. His graying curls fell loose and wild, and his ill-fitted armor seemed made for a younger man. But he wore it with ease and its age couldn’t be mistaken. He followed the path up the marble and stone stairs, his long strides taking them by twos.

After hearing rumors of the artifact, he searched historical collections across the continent for information but found little. What he did find left him horrified and determined to guard the artifact against those who wished to wield its power.

Kaelen paused on the stairs when he saw the ancient, carved doors ajar. Was he too late? He couldn’t be. Either way, his only answers were inside.

His reaction to the arched stone was muted; he’d seen many grand entries in his travels, some much older. But something about the air was different; tainted. Kaelen noted the portent and continued. The door he found inside wasn’t open, but neither was it locked as expected. He steeled himself for what lay ahead and he, too, stepped into the darkness.

Third to enter the temple was Solas, nondescript and almost a part of the barren landscape. He came down the mountain from a lost pass and approached the temple from the opposite side.

The entrance was a simple iron door that blended with the stone. It wasn’t a place someone found by accident. He scrutinized the lock. The key had been lost generations ago, but he didn’t need one.

With a fleeting smirk, he pulled out a set of picks and knelt before the door, cajoling the lock. It opened in moments, and Solas slipped into the waiting darkness.

Ithara felt her way through the dark, winding stone tunnel. Her fears lurked in her peripherals and spurred her toward the inevitable sanctum. The small wooden door at the tunnel’s end opened into a light-filled antechamber.

Intricate columns and statues contrasted its rough-hewn stone walls. Two more wooden doors waited to either side of the chamber.

Ithara surveyed the antechamber and checked both doors. Locked, and her key didn’t fit. She searched for something to break or pry the doors open but found nothing.

Kaelen entered the room several hours later and found her seated on the floor, staring at a faded tapestry on the far wall. He narrowed his eyes at her, wondering if she’d found the artifact.

The door shut with a loud clack. They both turned to stare at it.

“I assume you’re here for the Heart?” Kaelen asked when he looked back at her.

She didn’t respond, as she didn’t trust strange men in strange places. Not anymore.

“I think you’re in the wrong place.”

“I know I’m not.”

They regarded each other. Finally, Kaelen spoke.

“The doors are locked?” 

He gestured toward them. Ithara nodded. Curious, he approached a door. Turned the knob, studied the lock. He pulled a small knife from his belt and tried the lock. Nothing. He tried the opposite door with identical results and joined Ithara on the floor with a sigh.

“I’m too old for this,” he muttered.

“Then why did you come?”

“I knew the rumors would spread,” Kaelen said. “I knew others would find it.” He paused. “I don’t want anyone hurt.”

He turned to her.

“Why are you–“

They heard scratching. Both Ithara and Kaelen rose and drew their weapons.

When the door to their left opened, Ithara stepped forward and Kaelen stepped back. Solas knelt on the floor, one pick in his hand and one in the door.

“Calix?” Ithara asked in disbelief.

Solas blinked at them and stood.

“Ithara,” he acknowledged. “It’s been so long.”

He glanced past her to Kaelen. “And you are?”

Kaelen hesitated, but Ithara turned toward him, too.

“Kaelen,” he said.

They blinked at him, recognizing the name.

“As in Kaelen Sunderberg of the Sunderberg Wars?” Ithara asked.

“Yes,” he replied with a wince. “May we continue? We’re all here for Destra’s Heart, yes?” When Ithara and Solas continued to gape, he added, “The lost treasure of Inasha, last ruler of the Dawn Age Dynasty?”

The weight of the relic and the offered alliance hung between them.

“Sounds like a mouthful.” Solas broke the silence.

“Do you know its history?” Kaelen asked them.

Solas shrugged, “Some lost god’s curse on a lost civilization.”

“Its history doesn’t matter,” Ithara said. “It’ll fix the problems you started.”

She stared at Solas with venom. He inhaled to reply, but she interrupted with a step forward. 

“I’m here to bring peace after you tore Vallinar apart.”

He hadn’t, but arguing would only complicate matters.

“Ah.” He smirked. “If I recall correctly, the problems were there before me.”

Ithara snarled at him and put a hand to her scabbard.

His smile faded as something moved beneath the stone floor. An ancient power seeking release. They all felt it and were drawn to it. 

Solas had studied the layout of this temple a thousand times and knew its design in the dark. He knew what was on the other side of the remaining door. His picks were in his hand, ready for him to feel his way into another forbidden place before he reached the door. When the door swung open, Ithara pushed past him. She entered the room, heedless of its contents. Bold and forthright in the face of danger and uncertainty.

Solas had always admired that about her, but their tryst was several lives ago, and he didn’t want to revive a dead man.

The temple’s innermost sanctum dwarfed the grandeur of the entryway. On the plinth at its center, a petrified human heart cast a mesmerizing light, warm, ethereal, and intoxicating.

Me.

They all stopped at the door in wonder.

“Did you know it would be an actual heart?” Ithara asked.

“No,” Solas exhaled.

Kaelen swallowed and nodded, his face ashen, but did not elaborate.

Bathed in no other light but mine, they bared their secrets to me. Conjuring all the memories and emotions that led them here, they let me in, and I saw their truest selves. And when you know a person’s secret, truest self, how can they resist you?

I drew them all toward me, though I only needed one.

Fifteen steps away, Kaelen pulled back. Ten steps away, Ithara shook herself free as well. They exchanged a confused glance.

Solas didn’t notice them stop, and I doubt he would’ve cared. My hold on him was stronger; he welcomed the connection, leaning into my direction and desires, so much bigger than his own paltry ambition. My full power, separated from me for so long, followed beneath his steps.

Ithara shoved Solas to the ground, breaking my hold. My power, so close, drew back into the stone beneath the temple. They sat up, dazed.

“What was that?” Solas whispered in awe.

Ithara’s voice trembled. “The Heart?”

Kaelen nodded, unable to speak.

Typical reactions, all of them, but I knew who I wanted now.

“Inasha’s journal said… but I didn’t–” Kaelen shook his head in horror. “We shouldn’t be here.”

Kaelen slunk back toward the door, casting glances back at me. But it was too late.

“It’s locked,” Kaelen said. He turned to Solas. “You pick locks.”

Solas nodded and knelt before the door. He tried the lock every way he knew how; he’d picked it once, he could do it again. But he wasn’t in control anymore. None of them were. The moment they walked into the sanctum, they were mine. Were any to leave, it would be with me.

Without warning, Solas struck out. His dagger sliced Ithara’s arm, and she cried out and fell back. Kaelen backed away, dragging his sword from its sheath.

“Think about what you’re doing,” he said. “You don’t want this.”

Sneering, Solas lunged. Kaelen sidestepped him and Solas stumbled past. He regained his footing and whirled to face Kaelen again.

Ithara faced him instead, one arm bleeding. She wielded her longsword with an uneven grip. A fierce glare turned her countenance from pleading and fearful to determined and battle-hardened.

“Calix, stop.”

A huff of a laugh, almost pitying. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it of my influence and stopped, dropping his dagger and spreading his arms in surrender.

“That hasn’t been my name in ten years,” he said. “But I don’t want to fight you.”

Ithara lowered her sword and exchanged a panicked glance with Solas.

“What do you want with it?” Ithara said to Solas. “You don’t need power or wealth.”

He held her stare, unwilling to answer, but I knew. He’d shown me: fame. Notoriety. More than that; he wanted his name whispered across the continent in fear and awe. An identity that overshadowed everyone. He thought finding a legendary relic would give him that. And I could, but not until he gave himself. He didn’t want that. Not yet, but there were other ways.

It took a little coercion, but Ithara strode forward and reached for me. Solas followed and grabbed her wrist, yanking her back. 

“Don’t!”

The force threw her to the ground and swung him around. He fell backward, toward me. Reaching back to catch his fall, he instead caught part of the pedestal and brought me to the ground with him.

The moment we touched, the power waiting in the stone below surged through him, as did I. My power and consciousness merged for the first time in centuries. Flooded with unexpected power and a new consciousness, Solas convulsed on the ground as he rejected my presence.

The others stared at him in horror, Ithara rushing to his side. But they could do nothing. Kaelen kicked the heart across the sanctum floor, but it was too late. Solas could no longer tell if thoughts were his or mine.

His seizure stopped and he lay on the ground, panting and sweating. Ithara retreated several paces, uncertain what to expect. Kaelen held his blade out in front of him, ready for an attack.

Solas sat up and smiled at them. Not his smile. Mine. And with one swift, decisive cut, I sliced his thumb open and pressed it to the ground. My heart, the last piece of my previous vessel, disintegrated as the remainder of the temple’s power bound us. He was mine.

With Solas’s knowledge of the mountain temple, we fled through the secret places and locked the other two behind in darkness. Outside the temple, I took my first breath from human lungs in a thousand years and smiled at the freshness and freedom of the cool night.

Our most immediate concern was ensuring the secrecy of our escape. With a glance at the towering mountain behind us and half a thought for those still inside, Solas extended my power into the stone, through the mountain’s veins. Then, with a tug of thought, he pulled it all back, tearing the stone apart at its weak points. We watched the mountain crumble and cascade into the valley. A harrowing avalanche. His intuitive use of my power impressed and pleased me, like he was made for me.

Solas paused in the aftermath. The remnant of him mourned the others, but with my influence, he didn’t dwell long on our deeds. Soon he, too, thought only of the future and its promise.

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