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Turning the corner, you look once again to the wall for your shadow companion. The light flooding the hallway bleeds yellow-white into the water in the rivulets, splashing up over the walls. Her absence strikes you. Perhaps it even disappoints or relieves you. Regardless... There is no more guidance to be found here.
The light is impossible to ignore now. It reminds you that you have had a long, tiring journey and your spirit aches for rest. When you feel ready, you step into the glowing cascade, and resurface.
The light is impossible to ignore now. It reminds you that you have had a long, tiring journey and your spirit aches for rest. When you feel ready, you step into the glowing cascade, and resurface.
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Conclusion
Melancholy calm radiates throughout the verdant enclave you find yourself stepping into—a space which blooms quietly in the cracks between the Temples of Sound and Silence. The twisting channels that have remained your constant companions throughout your journey follow you even here. Each vein of water flows outwards from the Temples, meeting in the loving embrace of a teary-eyed stream. The water runs in a looping cascade through the meadow, carving out a slice of land in the very center of the garden. It kicks its heels up at each bend, humming and whistling under its breath as it flows now as one.
You notice several Esk reuniting too—charging at each other with similar gusto, greeting each other with everything from loving forehead thumps to exasperated sighs. But past the flurry of activity at the banks lies an inviting calm.
Her cool warmth is unmistakable. Your spirit may ache to rest, to be still, and the company of the familiar figure before you offers it. Even if you have not met her yet, you know her instinctively: the mother of all Esk.
A small crowd has gathered around her between the ballet of wildflowers. Maybe you sit with your friends, or those you recognize. Maybe you find yourself next to or locking eyes with one who you once held in contempt. Or perhaps you stay apart from the crowd, craving the warm solitude of self.
Slowly, the Esk surrounding the ancient ghost begin to look towards her—some casually, some expectantly. Little by little, each conversation quiets down to a buzzing silence. Dozens of pairs of unblinking eyes turn towards their creator’s-creator’s-creator. It seems you have arrived just in time for a story.
The Oldest sighs, her exhale caked in ash. She has always looked tired, in her world-weary and time-worn way. Today, however, she seems exhausted.
In the silence, a brave Esk, perhaps a young Esk yet unaware of manners, pipes up from somewhere in the crowd.
“What was all that in the Temple? Why did I see…” their voice trails off, searching for the right words. “...what I saw?”
“I am afraid...” the other begins, eyes looking to a far-away place, “that I do not know.”
“But that was you in there, wasn’t it?” A tree-backed Trespasser asks.
At that, her pale face grows paler. Her eyes hollow in the flickering lavender light. Massive paws curl tensely on the soft earth. All around her, the audience of ghosts begin to whisper--
“I saw it too…”
“The jungle, the ocean…”
“The flash of horrible light—”
Another voice cuts through the cacophony, one belonging to a Traveler with fur the color of sunset.
“Are you alright?”
“Are you?” The eldest retorts. After a pause, she seems to remember herself. Her voice dampens with apology. “The visions can be intense. Turbulent for turbulent minds.”
“The Conservatory seems odd,” says an untethered Esk with flowing fur. “So many strange things happening. I can feel it in the air.”
“I was here long before this place,” replies the old ghost. “But I have never felt it quite like this.”
Gasps and murmurs erupt from the crowd.
“Before the Conservatory?! Hasn’t it always been here?” wails a tiny Traveler.
“No, young one,” she says, voice colored by a tired but patient smile. “I...created it, along with the stewards of the Temples. The Luminaries.”
Her voice hangs heavy in the air. No one speaks. The air trembles with energy like a conductor’s silver baton, held suspended, waiting, vibrating as the measure draws closer, coda approaching on floodwater--
“It was not my intention,” she admits, raw and raspy-throated. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like that. It was going to work. I should not have... ” She opens her mind once more, willing more words to trickle forwards. None come. A sigh escapes her soul instead.
As she does, it is as if the world exhales with her. The final notes ring through the energy of the Conservatory. Magnets clack into place. A vacuum breathes air. Restless droplets still. Something, somewhere, opens and closes all at once.
The First sits up, a weight sloughed from her shoulders. Her gaze casts around the crowd. It is a familiar gesture—one that signals the story for today has come to an end.
Esk begin to sit up and move along as well. They rejoin in conversation, in song, in harmony. They make plans, they make promises, they make their descent out of the garden and out of the Conservatory.
As the gathering disperses, the tiny Esk remains seated.
“Grandmother? One more thing…” they squeak, shuffling their paws in the dirt. “Is this the garden from the story you told? Are the gardeners the Luminaries you talked about?”
At her name, she seems to return a bit to herself, like a flower beginning to blink towards the first dusting of dawn. She remembers so much, and yet, she had almost forgotten who she was to them.
“You may find what you are searching for in the most unlikely of places. Answers lie all around us, deep within us. Perhaps they will come to you if you ask a different question.”
The young Esk furrows their brow, deep in thought.
“Okay, then, who was the gardener after all?”
“Ah. Memory...” the oldest answers, “is a fickle thing.” Though she speaks with millennia in her chest, there is a glint in her eye that seems somehow mischievous. It betrays a younger, youthful figure under the matted and mottled coat of one so ancient.
The small Esk seems even more puzzled by this answer, but nods, and bounds away towards their waiting companions. After a few hopping strides, however, they stop and look back towards her.
“Are you coming?”
“When I am ready.”
You notice several Esk reuniting too—charging at each other with similar gusto, greeting each other with everything from loving forehead thumps to exasperated sighs. But past the flurry of activity at the banks lies an inviting calm.
Her cool warmth is unmistakable. Your spirit may ache to rest, to be still, and the company of the familiar figure before you offers it. Even if you have not met her yet, you know her instinctively: the mother of all Esk.
A small crowd has gathered around her between the ballet of wildflowers. Maybe you sit with your friends, or those you recognize. Maybe you find yourself next to or locking eyes with one who you once held in contempt. Or perhaps you stay apart from the crowd, craving the warm solitude of self.
Slowly, the Esk surrounding the ancient ghost begin to look towards her—some casually, some expectantly. Little by little, each conversation quiets down to a buzzing silence. Dozens of pairs of unblinking eyes turn towards their creator’s-creator’s-creator. It seems you have arrived just in time for a story.
The Oldest sighs, her exhale caked in ash. She has always looked tired, in her world-weary and time-worn way. Today, however, she seems exhausted.
In the silence, a brave Esk, perhaps a young Esk yet unaware of manners, pipes up from somewhere in the crowd.
“What was all that in the Temple? Why did I see…” their voice trails off, searching for the right words. “...what I saw?”
“I am afraid...” the other begins, eyes looking to a far-away place, “that I do not know.”
“But that was you in there, wasn’t it?” A tree-backed Trespasser asks.
At that, her pale face grows paler. Her eyes hollow in the flickering lavender light. Massive paws curl tensely on the soft earth. All around her, the audience of ghosts begin to whisper--
“I saw it too…”
“The jungle, the ocean…”
“The flash of horrible light—”
Another voice cuts through the cacophony, one belonging to a Traveler with fur the color of sunset.
“Are you alright?”
“Are you?” The eldest retorts. After a pause, she seems to remember herself. Her voice dampens with apology. “The visions can be intense. Turbulent for turbulent minds.”
“The Conservatory seems odd,” says an untethered Esk with flowing fur. “So many strange things happening. I can feel it in the air.”
“I was here long before this place,” replies the old ghost. “But I have never felt it quite like this.”
Gasps and murmurs erupt from the crowd.
“Before the Conservatory?! Hasn’t it always been here?” wails a tiny Traveler.
“No, young one,” she says, voice colored by a tired but patient smile. “I...created it, along with the stewards of the Temples. The Luminaries.”
Her voice hangs heavy in the air. No one speaks. The air trembles with energy like a conductor’s silver baton, held suspended, waiting, vibrating as the measure draws closer, coda approaching on floodwater--
“It was not my intention,” she admits, raw and raspy-throated. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like that. It was going to work. I should not have... ” She opens her mind once more, willing more words to trickle forwards. None come. A sigh escapes her soul instead.
As she does, it is as if the world exhales with her. The final notes ring through the energy of the Conservatory. Magnets clack into place. A vacuum breathes air. Restless droplets still. Something, somewhere, opens and closes all at once.
The First sits up, a weight sloughed from her shoulders. Her gaze casts around the crowd. It is a familiar gesture—one that signals the story for today has come to an end.
Esk begin to sit up and move along as well. They rejoin in conversation, in song, in harmony. They make plans, they make promises, they make their descent out of the garden and out of the Conservatory.
As the gathering disperses, the tiny Esk remains seated.
“Grandmother? One more thing…” they squeak, shuffling their paws in the dirt. “Is this the garden from the story you told? Are the gardeners the Luminaries you talked about?”
At her name, she seems to return a bit to herself, like a flower beginning to blink towards the first dusting of dawn. She remembers so much, and yet, she had almost forgotten who she was to them.
“You may find what you are searching for in the most unlikely of places. Answers lie all around us, deep within us. Perhaps they will come to you if you ask a different question.”
The young Esk furrows their brow, deep in thought.
“Okay, then, who was the gardener after all?”
“Ah. Memory...” the oldest answers, “is a fickle thing.” Though she speaks with millennia in her chest, there is a glint in her eye that seems somehow mischievous. It betrays a younger, youthful figure under the matted and mottled coat of one so ancient.
The small Esk seems even more puzzled by this answer, but nods, and bounds away towards their waiting companions. After a few hopping strides, however, they stop and look back towards her.
“Are you coming?”
“When I am ready.”
The Quest has now concluded. Drawing or writing about your Esk participating in this scene is entirely optional. However, if you choose to do so, you may interpret this Conclusion in any way you wish. The Hidden Garden is nestled between the two temples, and features a meadow with water running through it. It is open to the sky, so the Conservatory’s glass panes will be visible. The rest of the details are up to interpretation!
How does your Esk feel in this space? What do they see? Who do they see? Several other Esk are milling around, reuniting, and listening to 000. Does your Esk see anyone they recognize or parted with once they entered their chosen Temple? Do they feel happy, relieved, exhausted? What memory of their journey can’t they shake?
What will they do once they leave the garden? Do they linger in the Conservatory or hurry back home? Is there anyone they want to speak to? Apologize to? Confront? Is there anything they want to do, or, more likely, feel that they must? Where will they sow the seeds planted during this journey? How have they changed? What will remain?
This scene is optional to depict; there are no requirements. All art and writing of the Conclusion should be submitted to the Soulsong quest folder.
If your entry takes place in the Conservatory, all Esk will retain their nature features, as well as their enchantments, elementals, accessories, and familiars. If your entry takes place elsewhere, normal rules regarding in-biome and out-of-biome nature features and modifications apply.
Temple palettes and challenges will not earn bonus points for this prompt, as your Esk has exited the Temples, and finds themself back into the heart of the Conservatory or abroad.
How does your Esk feel in this space? What do they see? Who do they see? Several other Esk are milling around, reuniting, and listening to 000. Does your Esk see anyone they recognize or parted with once they entered their chosen Temple? Do they feel happy, relieved, exhausted? What memory of their journey can’t they shake?
What will they do once they leave the garden? Do they linger in the Conservatory or hurry back home? Is there anyone they want to speak to? Apologize to? Confront? Is there anything they want to do, or, more likely, feel that they must? Where will they sow the seeds planted during this journey? How have they changed? What will remain?
This scene is optional to depict; there are no requirements. All art and writing of the Conclusion should be submitted to the Soulsong quest folder.
If your entry takes place in the Conservatory, all Esk will retain their nature features, as well as their enchantments, elementals, accessories, and familiars. If your entry takes place elsewhere, normal rules regarding in-biome and out-of-biome nature features and modifications apply.
Temple palettes and challenges will not earn bonus points for this prompt, as your Esk has exited the Temples, and finds themself back into the heart of the Conservatory or abroad.
Submit your entries to the Quest: Soulsong folder here!
This quest has now concluded. We hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to submit your Prize Claims by October 24th.
This quest has now concluded. We hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to submit your Prize Claims by October 24th.