Ghouls slept. And while he slept, he dreamt. While he dreamt, he remembered.
It was a memory, but not his memory. It was a memory as if seen by the eyes of an eagle, a bat, or a moth. High viewed and warping when he tried to focus, as his eyes shifted. He saw kin he knew, or would know, or had known before. He wasn't sure, in the way of dreams. Another blink, and he was on the ground, among the kin. Surrounding him, the kin all looked at The Obelisk - black and shiny like glassy rock, tall and smooth in an impossible way. Carved, somehow. He looked at the Obelisk as well, letting his eyes guide him as he looked at the whole thing, then the pieces. Shining symbols, sharp edges, the faded landscape he saw in his mind's eye.
Ghouls was a loner, really. He'd been alone. He'd tried tribes, because some part of him desperately wanted the community, to be close to others, and to finally find meaning. For a long time, his tribe was gone. He had only the moths. He would stand and watch as life moved around him, tending to those who fell in his path, and nothing more. Like that, Ghouls watched the dream memory, as the kin debated and figured out the puzzle. He was not good at puzzles, and the anxiety from some kin was palpable. He felt sweat bead on his brow. He didn't want to be a part of this. He wanted to return to simplicity. Despite the trepidation, he watched. He observed, and relived the memory that wasn't his.
Eventually, he watched them solve the puzzle, a kin of each species stepping on a symbol that corresponded to their unique type. Light flashed, brilliant and lovely, and Ghouls watched the Obelisk. He felt some part of him expect more. More answers, more understanding, more, more, more. He hadn't learned it yet, but he would learn it soon. He had failed to be a part of this original journey, too focused selfishly on himself and his loneliness.
He felt he was alone, but that wasn't true. He sought company when his tribe vanished, he had his beautiful sons and brilliant daughters, all of his talented children. The does he met, the friends he made, the moths he helped. Their wings beat like hearts in his ears, and he felt compelled to do more. Was he a coward? Too afraid to help, too afraid to reach forward and do what had to be done?
There was no reason. He was the spirits keeper, a buck who took care of those who could not take care of themselves. He tried. He wanted to help the lost souls and the hurt ones, and he wanted to solve the mystery. Slowly, Ghouls stepped closer to the Obelisk, avoiding the memory-spirits of the kin who had truly been here. The legendaries and the folk like him. He looked up at the large, dark shape. Ghouls took another step forward.
He touched the surface of the Obelisk with his nose, wanting to feel its power.