She stepped past the others, preceding them down the hall, Fallon a steady presence at her side.
“Your people have quite the obsession with sculptures and carvings,” Zeph said.
He wasn’t wrong. The Keep itself was riddled with alcoves that featured carvings and statues. Many walls had mosaics and the windows on the upper levels had stained glass. The artwork throughout softened her former home, just a little bit.
“It’s our way of remembering,” Shea said, not pausing even as Van drifted off to examine a suit of armor that stood at attention.
“How do such trinkets help you do that?” Van asked.
“Many of these are reliefs of great warriors from yesteryear. That one is a bust of one of the founders of this place,” Shea said, pointing to a bust on a shelf slightly above their heads. “Each of these have a story behind them, recorded by our gatherers.”
“All of them?” Trenton asked.
“Most,” Shea said, correcting herself. “Some people have been forgotten, though not entirely, since we still display them. Passing by these every day reminds us there is history here, that we cannot falter lest it disappear as so many of this world’s stories have. It is what we fight to preserve.”
“You mean they,” Gawain said, his eyes sharp.
Shea inclined her head. “You are correct.”
Shea glanced at Fallon, an apology on her face for the slip of her tongue. It was easy to forget sometimes, that this wasn’t her home anymore. That she wasn’t part of them. Other times, as was the case earlier in the archives, it was all too easy to remember why she’d left.
Fallon shook his head, letting her know there were no ill feelings on his part.
Some of the statues they passed were so old and worn that their features had been wiped away by time.
Shea led them to a room, overgrown with a tree, whose roots had intertwined throughout the space, pushing through stone until it was more nature than building. The room was half in ruins, the roof had caved in letting the weak sun filter in from above. A gray mass of clouds obscured the sky.
Grass and moss dotted the room, their feet whispering over it. Vines crawled up the sides of the walls and small flowers bloomed from them.
“Watch your step,” Shea cautioned. “The trees roots have made parts of this place unstable.”
It was one of the reasons why Ronan had been so adamant they not venture in here.
“I’ve noticed your people seem to have many gardens throughout the Keep,” Fallon observed.
Shea nodded. That was her favorite thing about this place.
“It’s not easy for the pathfinders to be locked behind four walls all the time. In that, they’re like the Trateri. Most who pursue this life love the wilds. The gardens help connect them to their true purpose when their duties lead to an extended stay in the Keep. It makes the time more palatable,” Shea explained.
Fallon nodded, his face grave. Shea got the sense he understood. He would, since his people were the same.
Shea drifted over to a corner of the wall, reaching in to pull back several vines to reveal an open space behind them.
Beyond the vines, the rock walls were slick and wet from water and moss. Within the small space was a deceptively small pond, one that was deeper than most would guess. This was obvious from the statues that had toppled into it, their forms large and half hidden, only a shoulder or head sticking up in some places.
Shea led Fallon around the pond, skirting its edge as she made her way to a small statue, one of only a few standing upright. A bird had nested in the curve of one arm, the other arm was missing, broken off at some faraway point in the past.
The statue’s face was calm and composed, beautiful, not because of the way she looked—though her features were exquisite—but because of the expression, serene and peaceful.
“This is my favorite spot in the Keep,” Shea told Fallon. They had some privacy as the others drifted away, investigating other parts of the room. “I’d come here whenever I was angry or upset and she somehow always managed to soothe me.”
Fallon touched the small of her back, his gaze going to the statue. “Do you know who she is?”
Shea shook her head. “No, no one does. These are older than the rest. Their makers were gone long before my people came to this place. I suspect their purpose was to give people a bit of peace.”
That’s what she provided for Shea at least. Serenity when it felt like the rest of the world had turned mad. She’d missed the nameless woman in her time away, but it was comforting to know she’d always be waiting in this hidden place.
Fallon drew her into his arms, propping his chin on her head. “I can see why you like it here.”
