[ IP ] The Source

The horse struggled up the last dune, with the soft sand giving way under the weight of each hoof. The journey had taken them over countless ridges just like this one, but the last is always the hardest. The horse shook its mane and snorted in protest, so Melizan rubbed her neck for encouragement. “ Almost there, girl. ” 
 
 From his pocket, he withdrew the withered square of parchment that he ’ d been following for weeks now. It seemed that the closer they got to the destination, the more often he checked it. On the very outskirts on the map, the trading ports along the cost were marked with dots. From the city of Sinsinsa where they ’ d departed, the journey was estimated to be more than 300 miles through barren desert. But one really couldn ’ t be sure; the very idea of the Source was laughable to some, and no more than mythical to most. Melizan himself hadn ’ t believed the map at first until the Bone Oracle confirmed its authenticity. Realizing that he had no actual reason to check it, he put the map away again. 
 
 At the top of the ridge, a surge of excitement lanced through Melizan ’ s entire body and even the horse seemed to feel it. A crater spread out in a perfect circle below them, at least a dozen miles wide. In the very center, the stone pillar reached toward the sky surrounded by an oasis of water, green grass, and violet wildflowers. Melizan blinked, not quite trusting his eyes anymore. Even the heavens themselves seemed to be leading Melizan toward it; the whole oasis was bathed in a bright shaft of sunlight. The rays sparkled off the calm surface of the water at the very center. 
 
 Probably more motivated by the sight of fresh water than the awe-inspiring pillar, the horse charged down the side of the dune at breakneck pace. Upon reaching the edge of the pond, she stooped down to drink without even letting Melizan dismount first. It had been an arduous journey across the desert, and they ’ d reached the oasis just in time: the last of the water skins was down to its final drops. The sounds of the waterfall pouring from the center of the pillar made Melizan ’ s throat even more parched. He could n't really blame her. 
 
 Melizan waited with baited breath as his horse lapped at the water. There were many rumors about what the water of the Source would do. Some said that it was pure poison that would kill a man within minutes; one last attempt by the Gods to correct their greatest folly: mankind. But men had foiled the Gods using forgotten magics to cut off the Source from the rivers of the world, hence the desolate desert for hundreds of miles around. The horse seemed to be doing fine, so Melizan guessed that that probably wasn ’ t the case. Hope began to grow in the back of his mind: that the waters of the Source were so pure that they still contained the very *essence* of life itself. Maybe drinking from the pond actually *could* grant immortality. What other reason would an old man have for trekking halfway across the continent just for a drink? 
 
 “ Here ’ s to you, girl, ” Melizan told the horse, holding up his tin cup in a toast. The horse was too busy drinking to have any reaction. Melizan pressed the rim of the cup to his lips and immediately noticed how *cold* the water was; even in the far North the water never seemed so crisp. He let the water fill his parched cheeks, then swallowed it all in one gulp. *This must be what heaven tastes like, * he told himself. He reached forward to plunge his cup into the water again. But as he pulled it out, he noticed a set of eyes staring back at him from under the rippling surface 
 
 The eye sockets of the skull were half-filled with mud and silt, but the bleached-white bones were unmistakable. Melizan dropped the cup in horror and pulled the skull from the muck. Beneath it, he could see the remains of a hand and what looked like a ribcage. 
 
 He was so fixated on the skull, wondering what its story was, that he did n't even notice his horse wade into the pond, still drinking. The splashing sound pulled Melizan from his thoughts to find his horse chest-deep in the water. He called out to her, trying to coax the horse back to the shore, but she just headed deeper and deeper, barely keeping her nose above the surface. The pond hadn ’ t seemed that deep from a distance, but the horse finally ducked underwater completely and disappeared. 
 
 Something inside of Melizan urged him to take a dip in the pond too. Part of his mind knew it was a bad idea, but that part seemed very far away now. The water had been so cool and refreshing, and the long trip through the desert had been so stiflingly hot. The surface was calm, despite the fact that his horse still hadn ’ t surfaced. *Shouldn ’ t she be struggling for air by now? * the far-away portion of his mind asked. The thought was quickly forgotten as he took another step forward. The water felt so good on his skin, refreshing but not chilling. 
 
 He waded deeper and deeper into the pond, paying no attention to the rigid white shapes poking at his feet from under a layer of mud. The skull that he ’ d pulled from the water remained on the bank, watching him submerge himself all the way up to his neck. The last thing he heard before plunging his head under the surface was the soft babbling of the water falling from the center of the Source.
