The Play of Two Moons

At first, I thought it was the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. But as I listened closer, I realized it was something else. It sounded like a song, or perhaps a conversation between many people in an unintelligible tongue. Without realizing it, I leaned in toward the sound. I felt as if, if I listened just a little longer, I might finally understand what they were saying.

The sound grew louder. It was no longer a faint whisper. It was a grand, divine chorus, like a cathedral choir in full song. The sound—composed only of beautiful things, as if praising a god—gradually became familiar. The light illuminating the garden beckoned to me, as if it had taken on a physical form.

Come back, let us go…

The voice, whose age and gender were impossible to guess—and whether it was one or many was equally unclear—was calling to me. In my hazy consciousness, the question “Back where?” flickered for a moment, only to sink back into the depths.

A laugh escaped my lips. I felt like everything would be fine once I got there. Everything I was looking for was there. Wait, what was I looking for? Whatever it was, if I just went there… everything would be resolved. It was a powerful temptation. My resistance crumbled in an instant. If I went back—if I just returned to that place—I would never have to wander again. It felt as though only peace awaited me.

CRACK!

The sharp sound of something shattering rang out. At the same time, my mind snapped awake as if I had been doused with cold water. I hadn’t even realized how far I’d walked. I was leaving the corridor and stepping into the garden. The moment I regained my senses, a wave of instinctive revulsion washed over me.

The garden was still blindingly beautiful, but it no longer looked like a dream. Instead, I felt a primal fear, like the chilling shudder one feels when standing at the edge of a cliff. I knew that if I stepped inside, I would never be able to leave.

I hurried out of the garden. Only after my feet struck the solid stone floor was I able to catch my breath.

Only then did I realize what had made that shattering sound. it was the protection magic Cedric had placed on me. I had been lucky. If not for the act of kindness he had offered on a whim, I would have been in deep trouble. As I wiped away the cold sweat, the corridor—which had been overflowing with light just moments ago—looked as faint and distant as a faded photograph. It felt as if I had intruded into someone’s old memory. Even after I broke the spell, the voices wouldn’t give up; they clung to my ears.

I walked quickly, then nearly sprinted out of the corridor. I couldn’t stay here long. Fortunately, the path wasn’t long. I dashed into the building. As if it had been waiting for me, the door slammed shut the moment I crossed the threshold. It closed with a heavy thud, as if it would never open again, cutting off the voices outside.

The interior was a four-story hall shaped like a dome. Ornaments and statues lined the walls, and murals of gods and humans filled every available space. The deep turquoise walls and gold decorations created a magnificent harmony. Vines were carved around the pillars, and a massive chandelier hung from the ceiling.

It was as grand and ornate as the Imperial Palace. No, not just “like” the palace… it was strikingly similar. To the point where one might wonder if one of the many wings of the Imperial Palace looked exactly like this.

A sense of dissonance washed over me at the sudden change in atmosphere. Passing through two frozen rooms, then a dark and damp path, then a seductive garden, and now a hall that reminded me of the Imperial Palace? I felt like I had become Alice in Wonderland.

Until now, the paths had branched, but they had been clear. Now, however, it seemed the “door” wasn’t necessarily an exit; the interior was filled with them. It would take ages to open every single one.

There had to be a hint somewhere. But the interior was so lavish that it was hard to pick out one specific thing as suspicious. Everything from the ceiling to the floor caught my eye.

I searched up to the third floor but found nothing of note. Most of the doors were locked, and the few I could open were just empty storage rooms. At first, I tried forcing the doors or ransacking the rooms just in case, but it was useless. They were just duds. Still, after wandering around, I learned how to tell the real doors from the fakes.

It was the decoration next to the handle. If there was nothing there, the door just led to a blank wall. But those with a small mirror attached at least led to a storage room.

The mirrors seemed to be the clue for moving forward. I wondered if there might be a massive mirror on the top floor. With the plan to finish searching the fourth floor, I was heading up when a fountain caught my eye.

In the center of the fountain on the first floor was a statue of a woman so tall she could almost touch the second-floor railing. Water poured from a pitcher she carried on her shoulder, and her lower body was hidden by a long skirt. Scales shimmered on her arms, neck, and waist.

The water didn’t gush; it flowed in a gentle trickle, so the surface of the pool was calm everywhere except right next to the statue. Looking at the water reflecting the hall, I hopped down from the stairs to the fountain. Could this pool also be considered a giant mirror?

Full of anticipation, I tried touching the statue’s scales and pressing on the floor of the fountain. Nothing changed. I was just grumbling about my soaked pants when a voice rang out from somewhere.

[The play is…!]

I jumped, nearly losing my footing. I looked around to find the source of the voice, but there was nothing that looked capable of speaking. The sound had come from right nearby. On a hunch, I splashed around in the water again. As the water rippled, the tail of a decorative fish at the edge of the fountain flickered.

[The play begins on the night of the two moons!]

Having delivered its short line, the fish stopped as if its job was done. There were four fish statues in total. Since my feet were already wet, I stepped back into the fountain and triggered the rest.

The four fish each spat out a different sentence.

The play begins on the night of the two moons. A dirge to signal the start. Do not settle in the seat prepared for you. When you cannot move forward, turn back.

At first, I didn’t know what to make of it. I would have believed it if someone told me these were maxims from a fortune cookie. They sounded profound, but ultimately provided no practical help.

I started by looking up at the ceiling. Since a riddle had been given, the solution had to be nearby. If the clue was “moons,” it would be something round, something that reflected light, or something in the sky. Sure enough, the ceiling above the fountain rose in a bell-shaped dome, painted with a mural of the sky.

My first thought was that I had to reflect the moon in the water to make it look like there were two. But the distance was too great, and the statue blocked the view of the mural from the water. It wasn’t like I could just peel the painting off, either.

I decided to go up and check it out myself. I climbed to the fourth floor and scaled the wall by grabbing onto the decorations. There were plenty of handholds, so the climb wasn’t difficult, but it was certainly frustrating. Unless you were a mage, you’d have to crawl up just like me. If this really was the right way, it was far too biased toward mages. It was basically saying: if you don’t have levitation magic, prepare to suffer.

Then again, if Cedric hadn’t been there to open the giant gate earlier, I wouldn’t have even made it this far. Cedric had tilted his head at the magic in the basement, saying it didn’t look like the work of Pisa Tecon. I didn’t know who built this place, but they certainly had a twisted personality.

Fortunately, the climb was worth the effort.

The ceiling mural depicted the sun and moon, day and night, all at once. Stained glass windows descended from the painting. Around the base of the dome, ten statues stood in a circle.

From up here, the height was quite dizzying. A fall wouldn’t kill me, but it would definitely hurt. I was scouting for a way to climb down safely when I saw the fountain statue. I’d probably break my neck if I landed on her head. The pitcher would be even worse. But her outstretched hand…

The woman was reaching out with her free hand as if pointing somewhere. Naturally, my gaze followed her finger. It was pointing to one of the ten statues lining the dome.

Like an elite rock climber, I maneuvered toward it. I touched the statue, which was decorated with waves so vivid they looked ready to crash. With a mechanical click, the statue rolled back and disappeared into the wall. Then, nine more clicks followed as the other statues vanished as well.

As I wondered what had changed, the high notes of an organ began to ring out. May you belong to a greater flock. It was the Imperial Dirge.

With the thunderous sound, the ceiling began to move. The reddish light—which could have been dawn or dusk—faded, and the day and night gave way to a true night.

A cacophony of noise erupts. The sound of violins filling a banquet hall, the chatter of guests gathered in small groups.

Fragments of conversation reach my ears: “The Prince…”, “The King…”. There is no need to listen closely. Everyone is likely talking about the same thing. Soon, a trumpet blast pierces through the commotion. It is the signal announcing the King’s arrival.

The hall plunges into darkness as the chandeliers are extinguished. A beam of moonlight illuminates a specific spot, revealing a portrait. In the painting, an old man wearing a crown clutches his head, his face gaunt. Bathed in the light, the King lets out a heavy sigh.

[The Prince’s death has brought me great sorrow. This is truly a tragedy.]