Black Road

Deja Vu, the Forest of Gongs, the path southward, and conversations with Dylan.

Transcript

The doorway creaks open to reveal a great forest outside. “This is the forest of gongs. Behind us, that’s Deja Vu.” You turn to see a dingy village churning out an array of chimney stacks… the farthest chimney emanates a strange beam of light that stands out in the darkness. Looking up you think it a bit odd you can’t make out any stars in the sky. It must be very cloudy. You notice that you’re standing on a railroad track, next to a mildly legible sign labeling the path into the forest “Black Road.” 

“No time for dillydallying, Princess. Into the forest we go.” You follow along.

“Why is it called The Forest of Gongs?”

He grins and surveys the tree above, whose dangling branches each carry a glowing orb the size of a small melon. He fetches a knife from his pocket, pulls down his selection, and cuts about two feet off the branch… then swings it wholeheartedly into the body of the tree, which sings a deep, vibrant “gonnnng”. The neighboring tree adds a harmonic, to which its friend chimes in, creating a sound cascade of beautiful chaos. 

He picks the shattered glowing globe off the ground and hands you half. “Orbfruit. To give you energy. You’re going to need it” 

Energy. You notice that the radiating sensation in your head and body has largely subsided, leaving behind a dull, persistent ache in its wake. You follow the nameless fellow, and watch with curiosity as he slurps the lilac goop out of his bit of orbhusk. You follow suit -- tastes like purple. You feel a little kick added to your step. “What’s your name?” 

“Dylan,” he says. “My mother’s name is Roberta, she named me Robert after herself, but all my friends call me by my second name. That was my mother back there at the apothecary. “Your name is...Bob Dylan? Next thing you’re gonna tell me is that your mother’s name is Roberta Flack.”

“No, just call me Dylan. How did you know that about my mother’s name?”

“I didn’t” 

Dylan narrows his eyes at you quizzically, as if trying to understand the punchline of a bad joke, then shrugs it off. ”Why are you helping me anyway?”

“Well. This isn’t exactly a day stroll but it’s not like you gave me much choice. I was just headed home from doing some routine tower maintenance when I found you knocked on the stairway. That was some jolt you took, you must’ve hit your head pretty hard. Anyway, no one else could see you and if they could, it wouldn’t have gone well for you, so bringing you back to Deja Vu was the only thing to do.” 

“Thank you.” 

“I’m just glad you’re up on your feet. You’re heavier than you look, no offense.” 

“None taken.”

Coming out of the forest, the road forks. On the other side of the road, a curved dirt wall extends upward from the ground and climbs up over the trees toward the town behind you, creating a great dome. No wonder you couldn’t see any stars - you’re underground. 

A sign on the wall features a left-facing arrow next to the letter ‘N’ followed by a right-facing arrow next to the letter ‘S’. The tunnel to the left is exceptionally well-lit and features a pristine staircase leading upward. To the right, a less-traveled trail slopes down into a cold, damp blackness greeted by the rare streetlamp. Dylan chooses the southward option without slowing down. Sounds like he’s mumbling something about the Jack of Hearts.  You make your best effort to keep up. The relic you’re carrying is not only weighty, but feels like it’s pulling electricity out of your head and toes, down your arms and fingers, and swallowing the energy right out of you. It’s .. a little distracting. 

“What is this thing anyway?” You ask. He turns his head to look at you for the first time in a while. “An ankh” he replies as though that response is satisfactory. You do not think it is satisfactory. He notices the question still in your eyes, and continues, “A protective. Grounding. Forged from the ash of the soulfire. Required for light travel. You did not meet the requirement for interacting with the light, thus the need to go direct-to-source for more potent grounding.”

A strange spectacle in the dim light on your right distracts from the conversation. Atop a great stone wall, an eggman is performing an elaborate song-and-dance routine, appearing to be entertaining someone on the other side. In front of the wall is posted a sign which reads “Here there be dragons”. A swirly red-and-purple bubble materializes in the air above, and there’s a woman inside, the same one who was in your upside-down vision. She begins to sing a song to narrate the occurrences down below.