Chapter Text
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[Aether]
Statement of Madam Faruzan, no last name provided, regarding a jigsaw puzzle she found at a yard sale. Original statement given March 15th, 2015. Audio recording by Aether Gladiator, Head Archivist of the CELESTIA Institute. Statement begins.
[Aether (Statement)]
I’ve always been a woman of science. Formulas and equations make up our world. They make sense. There is a firm, scientifically and mathematically proved truth within these equations. I have never questioned that, until… Well, I shouldn’t spoil it, should I? That’s what this whole statement is about!
It’d be no good if I told you what happened before my statement even begins! I might’ve studied in the Haravatat Darshan before all the changes began, but you bet I can still tell a good story - Comes with old age! Ah, you youngsters wouldn’t understand.
As I stated earlier, I’m a firm believer in science. I find comfort in the decade old studies and discoveries made so very long ago - That was why I enrolled in the Haravatat Darshan at the Akademiya. Back in my day, Haravatat was all about machine mechanisms, you see. There was a history aspect too, analysing old ruin puzzles, that sort of thing. Though, in the decades that have passed since I was a student, the focus has since shifted to the study of languages. Nonetheless, I was quite influential in my prime, you see. I’m sure you can find a few of my papers, though they are now utilised by the Kshahrewar Darshan instead. My work is now scarcely appreciated by my Darshan - A travesty, really, the nerve of the young people these days.
In my old age, I took up the hobby of solving puzzles - Jigsaw puzzles and logic puzzles are my personal favourites. I’ve found Rubik’s Cubes enjoyable since I was a young teen, and I’ve tried so many different kinds since then. This old woman spends most of her time at home now, so I had to find something to preoccupy myself with, not that someone as young as you would understand… No offence, of course.
Still, in my elderly years, I try to stay active - Daily walks, that sort of thing. And so, on my usual morning stroll, I came upon a yard sale in my neighbourhood. It was run by one of the many teenagers in the neighbourhood - Dori Sangema Bay, that’s her full name.
There were a few other neighbours I recognized browsing the items. No one my age, of course, my neighbourhood is full of youngsters - No one above 35, probably. Honestly, there wasn’t anything special about the yard sale. It was so unremarkably normal. Old books, clothes, appliances and toys, that sort of thing. I headed towards the books first. Nothing caught my eye, but a neighbour I recognized as a scholar from Haravatat was, too, looking through the books, so we made some small talk. He isn’t exactly my favourite youngster in the neighbourhood, but still, I thought he’d appreciate some of my advice as an elderly woman.
Anyway, I finished up looking at most of the items, and nothing had caught my eye. I was planning on leaving, but I then noticed that I hadn’t looked at the toys. Now, there are 3 stages in life. When you are a child, a period of time in which it is normal to look at toys, when you are an adult, where it is looked down upon, and finally, when you are elderly, and it is once again, normal. Now, obviously, I have to take advantage of my age as an elderly woman, so I go over to take a look.
I wonder, would it have turned out differently if I had ignored it, and left? Would I be fine now, would my mind be normal again?... I have a feeling that no matter what happened that day, the puzzle still would’ve found me. On the doorstep maybe, or delivered by that strange, young post woman from that Komaniya Express. On one of my trips to the thrift store, perhaps… Oh! I almost started spoiling the rest of this story again, haven’t I?
Well, as I said, I went over to look at the toys. At first, nothing really caught my eye. A toy train, the odd doll, nothing interesting, really. But then, at the very bottom of the bin, there was a slim box. At first glance, I might’ve said it was normal. Upon closer inspection, I found that the swirls on it were… Moving. It felt as if they were actually spiralling, the bright colours mixing with each other. It was disorienting, to say the least. My head felt as if it was spinning along with the pattern on the box.
I looked away for a moment to collect myself, and when I looked back at the box, I was fine again. I brushed it off, blamed it on an odd dizzy spell or something. It wasn’t unreasonable, especially as an elderly woman. I read the label in the corner of the box, and despite my old age, my memory has always been impeccable: “Es Mentiras: The Puzzle - 150 pieces.” I’ve studied several languages both in my time as a student, and later on to help solve puzzles without the need of a translator, so I recognized the words. “ Es Mentiras .” It Lies, or It Is Lies. A curious name for a puzzle, I remember thinking.
Still, I found myself interested. The puzzle itself claiming that it was full of lies and nonsense was an interesting concept, so I found myself picking the box up and bringing it to Dori, who was sitting behind a table towards the back of the driveway. As I handed the box to her, she asked me if I really wanted to buy that particular puzzle. ‘Unsolvable,’ she called it. That only intrigued me more, so I said yes, and she gave me the price. Compared to the other items at the yard sale, it was unexpectantly cheap.
Those 2 facts right there should’ve been a warning to me. You see, Dori is well known for scamming people and doing whatever it takes for a sale - She’s been like that since she was a preteen, really - so her statement of the puzzle being unsolvable within itself was a red flag. The low price, too, didn’t make sense for being an item sold by Dori. Still, I was simply too curious, so I paid for the puzzle and turned around.
I waved goodbye to a few of the other shoppers, and went on my way. By that point, it was already well past the time I usually end my walks, so I headed back as quickly as my old bones could take me. Upon entering my house, I dropped the box on my coffee table, and sort of… Forgot about it, I suppose. No, I don’t think that’s the right term. It was always in the back of my head, y'know?
I had another puzzle that I was yet to finish, so my original intention was to brew some tea and continue it. But, when I sat down with my tea, I couldn’t focus. The letters of the crossword puzzle seemed to be moving, swirling around each other, and my brain was hypnotised. It was similar to the feeling I’d gotten looking at the swirls of the puzzle box. The letters mesmerised me, moving around each other, and I couldn’t look away. When I finally peeled my eyes away from the paper, the swirls of my now cold tea drew me in instead. The ripples of the tea were somehow more enticing, as they swirled and spread. It was disorienting, to say the least.
Finally, after I’m not sure how long, I just snapped out of it. I’m not sure what triggered it, but I found myself no longer seeing those swirls. I decided it was likely that I was simply too interested about my recent purchase, so I decided I’d start the puzzle after dinner. It was dark by then, and as much as I wanted to start right away, I was hungry. I might’ve skipped a few meals in my youth, but that simply doesn’t do by the time you’re as old as me.
So, after dinner, I sat myself down on the couch with another freshly brewed cup of tea, and poured the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle onto the coffee table. I… don’t know how to describe it. I was fine at first, or as fine as I could be. The swirls slowly drew me in, but I persisted. I needed to finish this puzzle. If I were to solve a puzzle deemed ‘unsolvable,’ then I could brag to all the fellow puzzle enthusiasts on the interweb!... Still, the puzzle didn’t make sense. I’m sure you’re aware of the trick to solving jigsaw puzzles: You flip the pieces upwards, find the edges, and sort by colour.
The first issue was that there wasn’t an ‘up.’ Both sides were coloured, with those same spirals, those same neverending ripples of colour. The colour seemed almost as if it bled off the pieces themselves, staining everything around them. I saw my hands absolutely covered, the colour seeping into the wrinkles of my skin. I couldn’t do anything about it. It was like I was hypnotised, glued to my seat. The colours felt almost slimy on my hands, coating them in a film of neverending colour. Still, I persisted.
I tried looking for the edge pieces next, but that too, proved to be a failure. The pieces changed. They moved and molded themselves to whatever shape they wanted to be, turning into impossible shapes that shouldn’t have made sense - They didn’t make sense. Sometimes, I’d pick up a piece, and watch as it altered itself, becoming a shape that was too sharp, too jagged, yet still too round, and the piece would pierce my skin, cutting it, and my blood would seep out of my skin. Can I even call it that? Blood?
It was so many colours, not red, no, it was pink, blue, yellow, green, it didn’t make sense. How was blood so many colours? The only way I could identify it was by its coppery scent, and before long, my hands were covered in those cuts, pouring out a cacophony of colours. And the cuts themselves, they should’ve been lines there was no way they could’ve been any other shapes, but they weren’t, they were spirals, they swirled and swirled and swirled- …
I ended up abandoning that method, too. Not a single puzzle solving method I could think of would work in such a scenario, and that scared me. I’ve dedicated my whole life to puzzles in some way, shape or form, the prospect that my mind couldn’t think of a way to solve it was terrifying. The puzzle shouldn’t have been possible, my brain couldn’t comprehend it, it just- Didn’t make sense . It couldn’t have been a real puzzle.
I think that was when I realised it. It wasn’t real. I’d been so silly; Despite being a wise, old, elderly woman, I hadn’t gotten the blatant, obvious hint. The box said it - “Es Mentiras.” It lies. The puzzle was lying, playing tricks on my brain. And, the opposite of a lie is a truth, is it not?
I opened my mouth to speak. I wish I could say it was easy, that my mouth opened without difficulty, but it wasn't. My mouth felt slimy, and frankly, it was painful to open it. I did though, my old jaw pulling through. But the words wouldn’t come out. I knew what to do, but I simply couldn’t. The swirls of the puzzle persuaded me, promising comfort in their uncertainty, told me that the colours would keep me safe, and I wouldn’t have to worry any longer about my old, frail mind lying to me, that I wouldn’t have to worry about my brain degrading in its unstable state.
I’m ashamed to admit it, but it nearly worked. The colours and swirls were hypnotising, and I nearly closed my mouth again, nearly giving in, to the Spiral of what called itself a puzzle. I didn’t though. I got the words out, choking on them, as they came out of my throat. What I said, you ask, dear youngling? Nothing but the cold, hard truth.
“You are not real. You are not a puzzle. You are a lie.”
I repeated it so many times, said the truth, over and over. I don’t know how long it took, but each time I repeated it, the Spiral seemed a little less enticing. They slowed, and the colours stabilised, and the edges seemed to return to what was a normal form. Eventually, the puzzle broke. Nothing but ashes and dust, until it finally disappeared, leaving nothing but the box in its wake. I hadn’t even noticed that I’d dropped the piece I was holding so tightly until it disintegrated.
That’s the end of the story, really. I threw the box out, resolved to never buy odd items at yard sales ever again - If I ever went to another yard sale, that was. I still like doing puzzles, I don’t think I ever won’t. If I die, it will be at the hands of a good, hard puzzle, I’m sure.
…The scars are still on my hand. They’re flesh coloured now, but they’re still visible. Faint Spirals, inviting you to look closer, to get lost in their uncertainty.
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[Aether]
That was the statement Paimon said was scary, and I can’t disagree, really. The poor woman…
(Clears throat)
I looked into Madam Faruzan, and she is indeed an accomplished scholar from the Haravatat Darshan. Her papers were incredibly influential indeed, though nowadays, they mainly find their use in the Kshahrewar Darshan.
I requested that Amber do some follow up research, and it turns out, Madam Faruzan wasn’t quite as old as she suggested, late 60s, maybe. She contacted her, and Madam Faruzan was unwilling to give any more information, stating that “her former self's wonderful storytelling skills spoke for themselves,” and that she had nothing more to say.
While she was busy with that, I tried to get in contact with Ms. Dori Sangema Bay. My attempts were unsuccessful, but I was able to find a business that she runs if I’m not mistaken. Opened in 2019, she owns a small second hand store within Sumeru City. She seems to sell just about everything, not unlike a yard sale. There are several odd claims of her items being ‘supernatural,’ but I doubt how credible these claims are. Still, I’ll keep an eye out for statements mentioning her business in the future.
Madam Faruzan also provided her address when giving the statement, so Kaeya worked some of his magic and was able to get in touch with a few of her neighbours. Only 2 of them were able to recall the yard sale, and even then, only 1 of them stated that they, ‘vaguely remembered Madam Faruzan purchasing what seemed to be a completely normal box, maybe a board game,’ which isn’t exactly helpful. They both stated that it had been difficult to get in touch with the woman after the day of the yard sale, and her formerly frequent visits to her younger neighbours have almost ceased completely. I'm not sure whether or not this should be a factor of concern.
Unfortunately, there is always the possibility that Madam Faruzan’s mind has deteriorated in her elderly age. I’d like to believe her, but there is really no way of confirming whether or not she is telling the truth.
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