I was speechless.
Keeper of Times...? Beast of Memories?! Elder of Oblivion?! Wyrt-
"Wyrt...weard? Is that your name?"
"It is my True Name."
At its words, my eyes flashed.
"T-true name?!"
"Yes, my true name. The name that embodies the total comprehension of one's self. That is a true name."
I was bewildered.
Originally...I had thought it was the Soul Name Theory but...a True Name is actually the name of the self...? One's self?
"Wait...how do-"
Before I finished my sentence, I shut my mouth.
The answer is already in the definition...
For one to acquire their True Name, one must fully comprehend their self and translate that understanding into a word.
That word becomes an echo to a person's True Name.
"So... I take it that Wyrtweard ...isn't really your only name? And those other names are just other translations."
The voice laughed, "You are a sharp one."
"But you see, little seed... 'Wyrtweard' is merely a word that your human mind can attach the comprehension of my True name to...", the voice trailed off, pausing to trickle another stream of water before continuing, "Those other names are not translations but titles pertaining to my standing in the Abyss."
"Huh? Wait...so you're not the only one here?"
The voice, Wyrtweard, responded in an amused tone, "No I am not, little seed."
I frowned slightly at the remark 'little seed', but I paid it no mind. I was much more invested in what Wyrtweard had to say.
"This garden is just the second layer of the Abyss, the Garden of the Forgotten and my domain. The first layer is the Void, the gateway into the Abyss and the province of Methuselah, Bearer of Truths."
So... Methuselah...is the Bearer of Truths...but...
"What do you mean second layer?"
"The Abyss is not a singular place, Alex.", Wyrtweard spoke, its voice carrying a weight that pressed onto my bones.
"It is vast, deeper than even the most primal of fears. Each layer is a domain of its own, ruled by those who have come to embody the essence of the harrowing truth they had sought after their whole lives."
I swallowed, the weight of that knowledge pressing heavily upon me but I forced myself to speak.
"And who are these rulers?"
Wyrtweard chuckled but didn't reply, instead it continued,
"The Garden of the Forgotten.", Wyrtweard continued, "Is where memories come to be discarded. This soil is the ash of lost names, the roots cradle the echoes of the forsaken, and these flowers bloom from those who have been lost."
FWISH...
The flowers shifted again, the soil slowly dispersed, revealing what it hid beneath.
My eyes widened and my breath hitched.
Tangled in a tapestry of beating roots where countless objects – rusted swords, shattered helmets, faded journals with pages torn and scattered like brittle leaves, old clothes, shredded garments and broken skulls.
I took a step back, shaken, "These are all..."
"Forlorn memories.", Wyrtweard spoke, it's voice solemn.
Forlorn memories...
I glanced at my inventory.
[Inventory:] Salvaged School Uniform, Acolyte Leaves, Box of Seasoning, Hunting Knife, Quill-Book, Leather Map, Silver Lining, Veil of the Moon, Inept Lantern, Worthless Bowl, Maladroit Ax, Arch of Error, Featureless Quiver, Empty Goblet, Stone Gallon (4), Thorn of the Profane Cockatrix (57), Midnight Pleasure, Meat Stick (2), Overcooked Meat Stick (7), Waste Chest, Crude Axe, Sin of Wrath, Crown of Thorns, Nucifera of Oblivion
[Inventory:] Nucifera of Oblivion: A single forlorn memory. This Uncommon Item has no Effect.
A single forlorn memory.
A realization struck me like a shard of ice piercing my skull.
My eyes lowered, half-lidded, "These flowers... they're all made of memories."
"Yes.", Wyrtweard's voice carried a solemn finality, "They are the remnants of what once was and will never be again."
A silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.
Before suddenly, a presence moved beside me and then an elongated shadowy figure with a white mask, holding a water can appeared next to me.
And then Wyrtweard spoke again,
"Tell me, Alex... what does it mean to you?"
I didn't turn to look at it, simply keeping the figure in my periphery, "What...? You mean this garden?"
"Yes."
I remained silent for a moment, simply staring at the scattered objects before me.
What does this place mean to me?
I bent forward, reaching into the tapestry of roots before tugging on an object.
The figure of Wyrtweard watched me with interest, observing my movements.
SHIFF.
With a calm motion, I pulled out a human skull, holding it up with my right arm and staring deep into its hollow sockets.
I thought of the Nucifera of Oblivion.
A single forlorn memory...
It was more than just a name. More than just an item.
It was loss.
It was pain.
It was the past that had been buried, not because it was no longer needed, but because something—someone—had deemed it too much to bear.
Too heavy a burden.
I exhaled, turning to face the figure before speaking, "To me, this place... is simply a graveyard for fools. Fools who couldn't understand the horror of ignorance."
With that, I wrapped my fingers around the skull and...
BASH!
Shattered it into pieces. The white shards falling out of my ruthless grip.
Wyrtweard went silent.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, it spoke once more.
"Good. Then perhaps... you are ready."
A chill ran down my spine and a shaken smile came to my lips, "Ready... for what?"
"To unravel the first thread."
The words carried a weight unlike before, it wasn't just heavy, but dense, as though they were dragging with them something too ancient for my mind.
I opened my mouth to speak but before the words could escape my lips...
The air split.
Not like a tear, not even like a crack — it was a sensation, a knowing, that the air was no longer what it had been a moment ago.
I felt a strong sense of unease, a powerful pressure threatening to ravage my senses but Wyrtweard's voice drew me back,
"Tell me, little seed...why did you descend?"
I thought for a moment before responding, "Aren't you the Beast of Memories? You should know."
Wyrtweard chuckled, "You are a strange seed, truly."
"You assert that your reason is curiosity or the disdain for ignorance or the love for knowledge but it's all a lie."
My gaze turned to Wyrtweard who had once again, lowered the noose of its bizarre watering can to tend to the garden.
"Oh yeah, so what is it? What's my true reason for descending?"
I asked with a wide grin.
I already knew the answer. I already knew what to expect. It was simply because I was inherently insane, because I walked on the thin edge of sanity or so I thought...until Wyrtweard's forgettable voice reached me,
"Loneliness."
"Your reason for descent is loneliness."