Chapter 236: 236. Ancestral Codex
The Ancestral Codex loomed before me, a humongous cluster of cubic structures, each one rotating slowly around its own axis.
They did not seem to creak, nor did their turns betray resistance; they simply moved, eternal and unyielding, as if their very motion had become part of the natural order.
They were undeterred by the vastitudes of life, unbothered by time itself. Though their appearance was metallic, not a single tinge of rust clung to their surface. Instead, their skin glistened faintly, smooth and reflective like tempered obsidian.
But it wasn’t their sheer presence alone that commanded awe. What demanded reverence were the countless murals etched deep into their surfaces, gouged an inch into the cubes.
Every face of every cube carried history and mystery. There, under the unimaginable weight of the ocean, in the very lowest layer of the ocean floor where sunlight had never dared to trespass, they stood—silent, colossal, majestic.
"So," a voice chimed lightly from behind me, carrying an infuriating lilt of amusement, "do you like what your eyes are feasting upon?"
Wannre.
I didn’t turn to face her. My gaze remained fastened on the rotating monoliths, but I nodded, humouring her with an answer that wasn’t wholly dishonest. "Yeah... truly."
My voice came out softer than I intended. Not that I could deny it, these vast, metallic behemoths were fascinating, terrifying in their stillness. Yet, at the end of the day, gazing at them was nothing more than scratching the surface. To merely look was to remain ignorant.
So, without words, I made a small gesture toward her, a silent request.
She caught it immediately, as if she had been expecting it. "Yeah, check them as much as you want," she said smoothly, a faint curl of mockery in her tone. "The faster you quench yourself, the faster you’ll quench my thirst."
I let a half-smile cross my lips and shook my head, dismissing her provocation. My attention returned to the Codex as I stepped closer. The cube directly before me turned with a low hum, revealing a series of inscriptions carved into its gleaming face.
I leaned in, reading aloud:
"Us merfolk are creatures of the sea. Just like the sea, we are calm. Our race is calm. Yet, similar to the sea, we are a turbulent race. Once, we would live peacefully. The next, we would slaughter our own kind."
Aquina Glanis ~
Another turn revealed more.
"The sea is a vast expanse of mysteries, hidden beneath its depth. Coiled around by the serpent of mysteries, shrouded by the veil of the gods."
Qnirs Glanis ~
The cube shuddered faintly, shifting once more.
"At first, there was nothing. Then, there was everything. Yet it was nothing. It existed, yet it did not. It stood before us, yet it was not present."
Kalnis Glanis ~
And finally—
"Knowledge is but a curse, forever corrupting those cursed by its presence. For one to remain sane, they must first learn how to be mad."
Heath Glanis ~
Whoosh—
The current stirred slightly as Wannre drifted beside me, her movements fluid and effortless. Her gaze was fixed on the last inscription.
She let out a soft, almost nostalgic chuckle. "That man... Heath Glanis... was my father." Her lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "I can say with confidence he wasn’t a good father."
Her words broke the solemn rhythm of my reading, and irritation rose in me like bile. Yet I smothered it beneath a calm, composed expression, my annoyance tucked neatly behind a façade of indifference. "What did this old man do?" I asked dryly. "Passed down some accursed knowledge one shouldn’t know?"
I had said it meaninglessly, almost as a jab... yet her answer surprised me.
"Yes."
Her voice carried no hesitation, no jest. Just the truth, dropped carelessly between us.
My eyes narrowed as I turned my head slowly toward her. She was smiling, soft and serene, her features radiant in the dim ocean glow. But that smile—it didn’t soothe me. It didn’t calm me. No, the longer I looked at it, the more it unsettled me. It wasn’t beauty I saw. It wasn’t serenity. It was something else entirely.
Behind that delicate expression, I felt it—a shadow crouched, waiting. A monster. A presence so grotesque my instincts screamed, though no evidence lay before me.
’What the hell? Why did I think that? Why does she... why does she look like a monster to me?’
I couldn’t explain it. I couldn’t rationalize it. And though she turned her gaze away, masking whatever it was with that same placid demeanor, the impression had already branded itself onto me.
Even buried beneath leagues of water, in this eternal silence, I couldn’t forget the sensation.
Quickly, I turned around, my eyes darting toward the other Ancestral Codex that hovered, slowly rotating in the water beside me.
Wannre didn’t follow me. She remained where she was, her posture regal, her face blank, yet her gaze lingered stubbornly on my back, like a dagger waiting for me to stumble before plunging into my spine.
I ignored her and focused on the words appearing before me.
"Our races had differences, which makes us distinct, yet these very differences are what separate us. For us to live peacefully in the future, we need to cast these differences aside, one way or another."
Julire Glanis ~
"We are sea creatures. We thrive in the sea, we live in the sea, yet the sea isn’t our origin but the land. We are inherently the creatures of the land. If I ever had a regret for anything, it would be not being able to see us thrive in those very lands."
Ulsa Negre ~
"Ever since the Epoch of Fragmentation ended, species have changed. Our Gods have changed, their presence has changed, yet they still linger. They are still present, waiting for a single chance to show themselves again — to prove their presence, their existence, their strength."
Goyne Negre ~
"The Red Sea is our deity, our saviour. The personification of confinement and freedom, misery and joy, suffering and euphoria. We are forever indebted to it. If one has to end their life for it, they should bask in the pleasure of serving it."
Ftukn Negre ~
"One should choose their saviour after thinking hundreds of times. For once chosen, we can’t change what we have acquired. Forever trapped in the misery of the world."
Jbcoa Quins ~
"’Becoming one with where you came from.’ This term is the best way one could significantly increase their strength. Yes, it is filled with challenges no mortal could ever dream of passing through. Yet those who do, those who succeed, will become the next Gods."
Deliris Glanis ~
I froze.
"Becoming one with where you came from."
So this was the very origin of the phrase. It was carved into the very foundation of the Ancestral Codex. And it came from him. Deliris Glanis. One of the founding ancestors. A man who ruled over Aquis Vanlur for more than five thousand years, his name etched into every corner of merfolk history.
The Codex described him as a ruler who brought both terror and prosperity, yet his end... his end was a story buried in contradictions. According to this very record, he was assassinated by a yellow-tailed merfolk.
A single traitor who had been captured and dragged before the entirety of Aquis Vanlur to suffer a punishment so grotesque that the word execution felt merciful in comparison.
The assassin was cast into the endless flame of the sea—a fire that water did not consume but burned within it eternally. But that wasn’t the end. No, the cruelty was methodical, deliberate. At irregular intervals, blue-tailed merfolk were brought forth to bestow their healing blessings upon him.
Burning. Healing. Burning. Healing.
The cycle repeated until his body was nothing but melted flesh, his mind nothing but shattered fragments. They kept him alive in torment until even death itself seemed like an unattainable mercy.
Yet the most unsettling part wasn’t the assassin’s fate—it was what came after.
Deliris Glanis’s body was never recovered.
Every mural, every account of the ancestors had always been precise, detailed, almost obsessive in recording the end of a lineage or an event. Yet here, in this one record, stood a line so bare.
"Reason of death: assassinated by a yellow-tailed merfolk. Wounds: none. The body was never found."
That was it.
Now the question gnawed at me, a question that refused to let go:
How did they know he was assassinated?
What evidence could they have had? If the body was never found, if no wound was recorded, then what certainty existed at all?
Did they simply decide it was an assassination, branding a scapegoat as the killer? Or... was the truth something far more sinister, something that the Codex itself was unwilling—or perhaps unable—to record?
I stepped closer to the mural, pressing my hand against its surface. My lips tightened into a grim line. The more I read, the less answers I found. And yet, the absence of those answers felt heavier than any truth.
Deliris Glanis. A person masked by the presence of history, a being of great grace yet still dying to a mere assassin.
I refused to believe it. A deeper part of me screamed at me, echoing that something else had taken place.