Fantasy Shattered Fates: Renewal - A Dark Fantasy Boss Battling Epic

[seasonedcat]

As the dust cleared Kyo looked upon the fallen body of her enemy. A sick sensation of pleasure filled her body and absorbed her thoughts. She felt the rush of pleasure filling her longs and running through her veins, she had never felt so alive. A emotionless chuckle began to choke it's way up her throat before engulfing her in a low volumed fit of laughter. As the laughter overtook her her body began to feel weak and pain began to radiate from the wounds she had acquired like a hot knife.

Her laughs began to become wheezes as she suddenly was at a lost for breath, her vision swimming as she struggled to stay standing. Her breathes came out in heavy gasps as she almost fell to her knees, catching herself on her scythe. As she did so she became aware of the blood soaking her arm. With her little strength she threw her scythe as far from her as she could, which wasn't that far, allowing herself to fall helplessly onto her knees.

Her stomach began to feel sick with pain as she sat there whimpering. Closing her eyes she could still feel the other's presence, the rage that still was slowly disappearing within her. She hated this feeling of weakness. It reminded her to much of what had happened to her before, and the fear from earlier began to creep into her again. This wasn't what she wanted. She just wanted to be able to live again without the sickness, she wanted to be healthy again.

She wanted to be able to rest, to close her eyes and wake up when she wanted, not when she had to or else she'd be punished. She didn't want to fight. She didn't want to be in all this pain. She didn't want this. Tears weld up in her eyes, her left one being absorbed by the black fabric of her eye patch. Why had she let that thing control her? She finally had control over her life and what she did with it, and she just gave it to that thing without a second thought.

She was weak. She was a disgrace. She was sitting in the dirt that was mixed with her blood crying because she didn't get what she wanted. Utterly pathetic. She was pathetic. With every breathless gasp she took pain volted through her lungs and her ribs, she had defiantly done something there. Actually everything hurt, she had defiantly done something everywhere. That thing hadn't given two shits about her body, and she had just let it take control of her.

Her pain was her fault. She was too weak. Her sickness was her fault. She was too weak to fight it. She was always weak, she would always be weak. Sobs raked through her body as she shook from them and from the physical weakness she was feeling from overexertion. She dug her fingers into the dirt as she bent over letting her blood and tears drip from her face onto the dirt. Pain flared up in her fingernails as she pushed down on the dirt until her fingernails cracked and blood mixed with dirt was spill out from under them.

She had lost a lot of blood and was loosing even more now. Not to mention she was breathing in broken gasps now. Everything was feeling light and she was going to faint soon, she new she was. But would anyone care all that much? No one had cared the first time she died, no more people would care the second time either. She was just a weak, nobody, slave girl that had no purpose. She would just fade away like a rose and nobody would notice. Why should they anyway?

 

[Juju]

Even after everything it had done, Niatiel still felt pity for the creature all the way up to the moment Mordred carved out it's blackened heart. She didn't watch, but she knew the deed was done. The conversations and actions following the heart's removal was lost on her ears, as she was much too focused on Vystari, but one phrase stuck out like a shattered bone.

It killed Dwynn.

Just three little words, and yet they could flip the world on its head. A chill shot through Niatiel like an arrow through fog. What? It couldn't be true. Her eyes danced along the dust-strewn stone, searching for the proof. She had to see for herself, a confirmation demanded by the false hope in the back of her mind.

What did she expect? To find Dwynn sat there, scowling at them all like usual? A faint part of her her knew the truth, but it didn't speak up until she finally found Dwynn. Nestled in a patch of flowers, miraculously intact from the blast, laid the man whose luck had not been so kind. Black blood stained the ground beneath the pale stalks like ink, its well the gruesome tear that traced all the way across his stumped torso.

Bile rose in Niatiel's throat, tears in her eyes. She looked away, biting her lip so hard she could taste the copper between her teeth.

She didn't understand why she felt so deeply connected to all these people. She hadn't known them for long, less than an hour at most, and yet all she wanted was them to make it out okay. Seeing one of them killed... it was an unimaginable pain. It was as if the Judge's jaws had snapped shut onto her chest, unseen fangs digging into her core and crushing the breath from her.

In a shocked daze, she slowly looked at the others. Irosane was coughing up what looked like foul blood, while the others clustered around him. Off to the side, Kyo was sat on the ground, racked with broken sobs. Then there was Vystari, helplessly laid out before her.

Tears formed rivulets down the sides of Nia's face. "Vystari, I'm so sorry..." she whimpered, collapsing onto her in a shaky hug. "Y-you're not alone anymore. I'm here. Just please don't go..."

 

[Euclid Leaf]

...

Just when it seemed like Vystari too had gone still like the horned wisp, a hand grazed Niatiel's face. A pale hand, bruised and course now, but familiar all the same. A pair of pink circlets shone in the darkness that loomed over them, spinning in confusion, fear, but also of conviction.

"Don't cry, little Nia... You're not alone... none of us are now..." Vystari said in a weak voice, trying her best to smile. "Look around you. We're all here, together. Broken. But alive... still very alive... So don't feel like you have to apologize... if anything... I should be the one to..."

But it was clear her words betrayed her true damaged state. Blood pooled from her backside, dripping off of her faded pink curls. Everything was going black. Regardless, she kept a hand on Niatiel the whole time, continuing to reassure her the best she could. Though her 'tough act' might not be very convincing. With how much each breath made her shiver and each push of her muscles made her shake in ache. But she still kept a dignified look. Vystari only wanted to make the little girl feel better. She reminded her of someone close. Her heart sung when she thought of it. But a melancholy tune now ran through her veins.

She pushed herself upright, coughing and hiding her face.

"Looks like you all did it... So much for being a 'hero'.... I wasn't much help, was I...?" she breathed, smiling bitterly. She didn't seem happy about being inactive for the majority of it.

Her dazed eyes gazed over to the dimly lit space of dark infinity, taking all of it in as she could.

It was like the beginning. They had all gathered together once more, contemplating, struggling to cope with the madness of it all. Before them was the skulled, snickering Judge. But no longer did they have its guiding words. Yet they were faced again with another dark choice. Though the battle warped them, matured them into something new, they were still so aimless, lost, and uncertain. Among the body of the dead beast, some laughed, some cried, some cursed, and others remained silent, unknowing what to do or act. Not yet. Should they trust the words of the Beast? Perhaps it was trying to warn them? Or should they choose to reject this 'gift' it claimed to offer them. There was not telling what was true or lie. But what else can they believe? The choice was up to them now, the first real step in this new bestowed destiny.

Her eyes became transfixed when one of them suddenly began to writhe. They chose to embrace their own destiny.

"What did he...?" she muttered, but her voice would be drowned out by the struggling of the unfortunate wisp.

Irosane, who had consumed a piece of the blackened organ a moment prior, began to change and convulse. It felt like the piece of rotten flesh had permeated and released something. A thing now invaded his body, slivering deep within. This presence would burrow and burrow until it felt like it was latched onto his very soul. He seemed to be wracked in immense pain, an indescribable revulsion. A darkness coursed through his Stigma, then pulsed through his veins, before disappearing into his eyes. And as the vile essence made its way through him, for a split second something can be seen trying to push itself out of the arc of his back. In his agonized state of senseless suffering and afflicted regret, eventually he would be granted reprieve. After a last shiver, he will collapse, whether from the pain or agony, or maybe the darkness that now harbored his vessel.

-- Irosane will be unconscious for the remainder of the encounter. He now gains a 'Shard of Eclipse'. The effects of it are unknown at this point. Add this somewhere to your character sheet for future reference. Be prepared. Your fate has now been altered.

The black heart, or whats left of it would land on the ground, rolling out of his loosened grasp and crumble into a fine umbra mist. Whatever secret power it teased would only be meant for one. As though it was tied to the very organ, what remained of the dark beast would too begin to rapidly fade and grind into a dark smoke. Much like the remains of an old, smoldering flame being blown away. The old, bloodied skin and swaths of long fur peeled into the formless blackened mist, followed quickly by the cracked bones and all else the battered remnants. As though attracted to each other, the darkness bellowing from the corpse and bright light of the spindled plant that bloomed from its chest swirled into one.

Slowly, white and black would gather, pushing back in forth in a jerky, yet rhythmic swaying.

Vystari could barely keep her eyes open at this point. She was worried about what would happen to Irosane, about what would happen to them all. But she couldn't keep up any longer. She looked up at Niatiel, barely able to form words. All she could do was smile. The blood dripping now made her hand wet as she held onto her friend.

"Listen, Nia... Stay strong, okay? Don't cry anymore... I want you to know that I will always be here...." but despite all of her efforts, tears began pooling in her fading eyes, "But to tell you the truth... I'm scared... I'm very scared..."

But before Vystari could get out even another sound, the coalescence of light and dark spiraled into the sky. It bubbled and rippled, shooting forward like an arrow before exploding, shining like a nova in the dark emptiness that surrounded them. Truly, the stone, archaic ruins they had collected at from before had melded away and they stood in a dark abyss that extended beyond space. Beyond time. They were somewhere, yet at the very same; nowhere.

It was almost peaceful.

Droplets of light rained down on them, fluttering like luminescent leaves. They danced around the survivors, welcoming them almost. And as the speckles touched their bodies, their marked Stigmas would react. They would feel a great rushing chill from within, as their pale wisp forms shone with power. They radiated like tiny stars, breaching the unending darkness surrounding. But the favored children were not alone. Even the Black Vessels began to shimmer, the dark weapons going quiet for a moment. As if they were released from their anger. The chain linking user and warped tool began to glow and shine, warping and becoming more refined, signifying a shift in power. Or perhaps control. But even with more power, the weight of these vestiges of sin only grew heavier.

Whatever emotions you feel, deep inside you know that you proved yourself worthy today. That maybe there was a way to change things. Anything. It was a miraculous feeling.

--Everyone gain 1 Essence. Tally it onto your character sheet.

And in that pure moment of hope, Vystari would go away with an eased mind.
The bloodied fingers would loosen from Niatiel's, falling down beside her limp form. Vystari would've rest her head against her friend. Tears dripped from her closed eyes, but a smile adorned her expression nonetheless.

-- This boon of power continued to flow within the wisps, waiting to settle down. But you can feel like it can be moved about, flowing and collecting like a drip of dew. Perhaps there was another choice to be made still? But you do not have much time. You feel a growing drowsiness, a sudden sinking building up. You only have a few moments before it overwhelms you, and you will find it impossible to resist closing your eyes. And falling fast asleep.

...

 

[Siren77]

Something was very, very, wrong. Irosane’s body was wracked with pain, darkness, and an endless suffering that he knew fully well was tied directly to his consumption of the beasts heart. It was destroying him from the inside out, or at least it felt that way. His core felt like it was burning and freezing over at the same time, his wispy bones aches with the stress of a thousand fractures, and moreover his body sweat white droplets from the intangible skin he possessed. It was intense, so much so that he almost felt numb to it all after a while, almost as if his body was accepting that he’d be in pain like this for the rest of his existence.

The icon of anger began whimpering and crying out with sounds that could be perceived as normal, as he still sounded human. However, as the pain increases, so to did the animal like behavior from the wisp. He was growling, screaming, and uttering all manner of inhuman sounds that echoed from within the bowls of his chest as both his body and soul were destroyed by the consequences of his sins. He began begging, pleading with whatever greater force existed beyond this plain of existence to relinquish this hell from him that he might finally be at peace. Wether that be through death or otherwise.

“Mordred....” He called to the wisp closest to him, heaving on all fours as his fingernails dig into the earth and stone beneath them. “Help...... please!!!” He cried out and began snarling in pain once more, with his limbs on the verge of giving out. As the darkness consumed him, and worked it’s way through his stigma and into his eyes, his vision betrayed him and left him blind. So to did his hearing fade, as the only sound to fill his skull was that of the pulsating agony inflicting upon his head which caused it to beat like a drum in his cerebral cavity. Deprived of all senses save for the feeling of pains and darkness within, the Wisp knew that death was near.

“Kietlav......! Niashimi......?! Please someone speak to me!” Only the void would answer him. “Goddess Nera! Have mercy on my soul, I beg of you!” The pain only grew worse, until finally with the cracking of bones and the stretching of flesh, the dorsal part of the wisp began expanding and looked as if it were going to burst asunder and utterly destroy him. Yet whatever was trying to get out of him finally subsides and returned, seemingly just before his bones could break and skin could be rent from flesh. After all this suffering, finally Iro did collapse to the ground with a shudder. The black eyes retreated and just as they were to close, a flash of crimson could be seen.

Just before he was to fully lose consciousness, he uttered one final whisper.

“Mother, is my suffering yet over?” Then he did lie still, and would appear dead were it not for the subtle rising and falling of his chest as he was whisked off into whatever dream or nightmare would await him.

Meanwhile, Irosane’s stigma shone with a violet hue through the intangible white flesh on his chest that did finally grant his soul with some peace. As the hooked blades lying dormant beside him shone as they pieced themselves back together, power surged within him. Even in his unconscious state still yearned for strength. The strength that neither himself nor anyone else might ever endure pain like this ever again.

The Strength to fight.

 

[Juju]

At Vystari's gentle touch Niatiel froze, almost as if she were strangely surprised at the gesture of affection. Fresh, warm tears traced down her face, soaking Vystari's bloodied hand. Nia choked on a sob, trying to her best to listen to her friend's words. Within her embrace she could feel every broken breath Vystari's took, keenly aware of the immense torture each one brought her.

"No, no, you helped..." Niatiel assured her. "You helped me. You're a hero. That's what heroes do..."

When Vystari sat up Niatiel shuffled to help her. "Not so fast, Vystari!" she begged, wrapping a pale arm around the woman's shoulders to support her. There was something that was bothering her, enough that she would shift upwards in such a state. Niatiel followed her line of sight to where Irosane was now writhing on the ground. He began to howl ,scream, growl, emitting inhuman sounds as he convulsed.

Niatiel could only scream in terror. "Somebody help him!"

She could see the Judge's twisted form begin to blow away like ash, rising up in one last cloud of darkness before becoming no more. But was it gone? Shadows swelled in Irosane, the wisp that had saved her from its blackened jaws, the one who had pulled her out from the abyss. It was going to kill him! Despair welled up in her. No, this couldn't be happening! Everything was falling apart around her.

Vystari's voice brought her tear filled gaze back down. She told her to stay strong, to dry her tears, but she couldn't. "No...Vystari..." she mewled. Her shoulders shook, her face a grimace of pain. The light fell down around them, scattered into iridescent specks by the tears of her eyes. She was glowing, her stigma shimmering brightly, but Vystari was not. The realization broke her heart. As the light seeped into her, filling her with power, she could see Vystari fade away, gently like the last breath of summer in autumn. Niatiel pulled her lifeless form closer in a tight hug, head bent down in anguished sobs.

Sacrifice. Courage. Lessons they had to remember, painful teachings Niatiel could not forget. There was nothing more to sacrifice than a friend. Nothing more courageous than moving on. She didn't think she ever could.

The prize of this test ebbed within her, a dexterous, twisting spirit with strength enough to endure this dark. The Essence of Miracles, she recalled. It was hers now, a blessed boon to do with what she wished. Her cries stopped for a moment, her eyes opening slowly. What if she wanted to give it away? It was nothing but a seedling in the ash, but it seemed that her hope was hard to snuff out.

Niatiel wiped her eyes with a fist, clearing away the moisture to make way for the subtle spark that had been hiding underneath. Was it naivety or courage that spurred her to act in defiance against the cards that had been drawn? A challenge to the end, this cruel fate. Were they just puppets to it? The Judge in its solemn vigil, and they the offerings destined to slay it. Could they not tug the strings back?

Focusing on the potent essence, she willed it to move towards the elaborate Stigma on her chest. She felt surprising control over the flow, but if it was from its power or her own she could not say. All she knew was the faint familiarity with it, as with the ache in her heart. Exhaustion gathered in her legs, weighing down her eyelids but she was determined not to give in. Not yet. She gathered up this blessing and with little thought of herself, she gave it up to someone who needed it more.

Once she had finished her last-ditch ploy she had nothing left. The fatigue swooped in, lulling her to go gently into the good night. Her eyes closed as she fell to the ground beside Vystari, growing still and deceptively tranquil.

 

[Lekiel]

And so the final circle of the arc of fate was drawn. A chapter closed on this one. Like the dying embers of kindling, the rotten and cursed remains of the once dignified judge lay twisted in the center. Swallowed up by a tangle of pellucid blooms and lit by soft light. The dust and rumble had settled and having drawn herself out of the way, Brielle now found herself drifting in from the edge of the glow. The maddening whispers that teased at the vestiges of her mind were hushed, and she was filled with wonder at the sheer pulchritude of the sight before her eyes. The beast was slain for them. By them. A crumpled mess of bone and dark sanguine fluids and sallow skin, stretched and torn into something that was no longer recognizable. Any other would've surely turned away, or be filled with revulsion. But still she kept on. Until she found herself by its side, footsteps faltering for but a moment as the beast snarled and snapped at them, until its broken frame could no longer give life to its will.

The flowers seemed to glimmer ever more brighter, as Brielle's breath caught in her throat. The labored breathing of the beast the only sound she heard, though she might've noticed the shouts and screams of her kin. And just as she did when they first met, a pale hand reached out and rested against a ravaged side.

Thank you...

Somehow, she felt a kindred spirit in the now snickering beast. To be laid to bare, a damning existence if only one that would give hope to others. There was nothing heroic in the gnashing of its jaws, or the hideousness of its visage. His was a position none would envy. Cursed to take and reap, vilified for what it was bade to do. But without it, there would've been no them. The wretched pain, the deepest anguish of suffering. The wisp's brows furrowed. Inexplicably... she knew it well. She withdrew as the beast began its hollow speech.

Brielle considered its offering carefully, alongside her was Mordred and Irosane. But before she could react, Irosane had made his move. Walking past her, he took it from Mordred's hands and took a bite.

Her eyes widened and for once during their short existence, Brielle was taken truly by surprise. She did not think any of them capable of such actions. But the surprise was only momentary, as his words rang through her mind.

“We have no idea what this thing might do to any one of us. So I shall be the first to partake, and see if consuming this thing will prove to be beneficial to us.”

Brielle let out an air of derision. For a moment she might've genuinely smiled, but his true motives marred himself in her eyes.

So he was a fool... if a brave and selfless one at that.

She watched dispassionately as he writhed and contorted, his body seemingly burning from the inner torment. But a sudden shift of the atmosphere caught her attention, and Brielle found herself looking up as droplets of light rained down upon the gathered. She felt a peculiar shifting at her back, and reached to retrieve her once dormant stave only to find that it was now glowing. Though it appeared to have reawakened, she felt in her heart that it was satiated. Peculiar... But as she looked upon her weapon, something sparked within her soul. It grew rapidly, an inexplicable serenity filling her core to the brim before it bubbled over. It coursed through her veins, gracing them with warmth and strength. It tingled her limbs as her mind and vision seemed to sharpen with clarity. Winding its way through her every nerve, she allowed herself to close her eyes and just lie still to partake of the feelings of exaltation it evoked within her. But almost as soon as it began, the lights dimmed as a sudden overwhelming feeling of lassitude numbed her senses.

It's over... rest... Brianna.

And just before she sank into oblivion, she heard her calling her name again. The corners of her lips twitched into a smile.

 

[The Suspicious Eye]

Harmony only gave a solemn nod as Nia and Vistari went to see Dwynn's lifeless body. Watching them with weary eyes a calming song began to wrap around her, engulfing her mind in a adagio sensation. The slow tones began to pulse through her veins and seep into her skin. Her body began numb to the pains she should be feeling from all that happened. The sadness of losing Dwynn, the empathy for her companions around her and the fear of what was to come, passed through her along the soft chords of her song. A Berceuse took ahold of her as she turned to Vystari as Nia held her. Her wispy form becoming much clearer as haggard like Dwynn's did, before he died. Unease began to turn in her stomach as she couldn't help but let the thought cross her mind. Shifting her footing to face the girls she was about to speak out only for a scream to erupt from Irosane.

Watching him writhe and scream in pain Harmony wasn't sure what exactly to do. Moving over to him she kept her hands up and a close eye on the convulsing body. Scanning him to make sure he wouldn't hurt himself. Unsure of what to do she could only watch as the man writed and wailed in pain against the broken ground. His screams and cries pierced her ears as she watched him contort only for moments later his back to convulse and arch with unsettling pain. Only for him to collapse to the floor motionless.

Tentatively reaching out to the still Irosane, she rested two fingers onto his neck. Pressing against his windpipe she felt the steady beat of his pulse, a bit slower but still there. Letting her shoulders fall in relife she spoke up."Thankfully, he's still alive. Just unconscious." Recalling the darkness swirling in his eyes, her brow narrowed in thought. Let's hope that whatever happened won't leave a negative side effect. She didn't want to think about what she'd do if the worst was to come when he woke up.

The single thump of the heart rolling out of Irosane's limp hand and onto the ground caught Harmony's attention. Turning she reached out to take the deflated lump of muscle from the monster, only for it begin to disintegrate into nothing. Feeling the leathery heart against the tips of her fingers the heart vanished. Whipping her head over to the massive body of the beast, she watched as it began to break apart. Pieces of the fleshy mound began to fracture into small particles and float away in the invisible wind like ashes. It was calming to see this beast return to the dark abyss from whence it came. Yet Harmony couldn't help but think, this is better than what it deserves.

Watching the fading particles dance into the darkness a small bud of light bloomed from the center of the speckled core of the corpse. Leaning to inspect the budding light she fell back as the light bloomed around them. Shielding her eyes with her hands she peeked out at the encompassing light around her. It was like a beacon breaking through the dark abyss that once terrified her.

The light blossomed into a white world of a new beginning, erasing the abyss. Light began to rain down her, around them all, as it touch ed her wispy form it seemed to swirl and merge into her twisting form. "Ah!" She exclaimed as she felt the fluttering Stigma on her arm began to radiate with the light. A powerful shudder began to grow through her form as the pale color of her body began to shine brightly. The power engulfed her and twisted within her, waking her from the Berceuse she was in. She felt opened as the energy erupting from her ran through her and out back into the world in a warm cycle. She felt the rush of emotions her lullaby had held back and the tears began to stream down her cheeks.

She knew whoever was watching them thought this was good enough, but it wasn't. "It's not good enough for me." She looked over to the empty shell that was once the proud Dwynn. "Not until I try everything." With this power coursing through her she felt so much bigger than herself, a chorale building inside her she stood up. Walking over to Dwynn, she knelt beside him and placed her hands on his chest. Closing her eyes she she took a deep breath and tried to gather the energy flowing around her. Willing the droplets of light and power to twist and turn around her, pass through her and into Dwynn. I want to heal him, bring him back. If I can will things to happen then this is what I want most.

Three words pushed through her shining lips, "Come back Dwynn."

The power blazed through her with the force of a raging fire, it was too much to take in. She willed every ounce of herself to push this power into Dwynn. The warmth that erupted from her engulfed her. The fine line between herself and the power around her began to fade as she lost herself. Her eyes grew heavy and the dark overwhelmed her yet again.

 

[seasonedcat]

Kyo felt heavy and muddy, her mind felt like it was a puff of fuzz without any coherent thoughts. The sounds of pain filled screams filled her ears, bringing some part of her back from the lull the blood loss was pulling her into. With hazy eyes Kyo glanced at the group around the dead beast, 3 of her allies were missing in the group. The small one with horns and soft eyes- Niatiel a voice offered somewhere deep in her-, the one who had taken on the beast himself then vanished- Dwynn-, and the woman with pink hair that she had only small glimpses of- Vystari.

Where had they gone to? Had they perished in the battle while she was puppeted by her own weapon? Could she have saved them if she had not been so weak to let herself get taken over? There was no doubt that she could have saved them if she actually tried. The clouded memory of her not caring of the cries of her allies filled her head causing her to let out a quiet cry. She had just left them to die and now they were gone, perished just as quickly as she had met them, and it was her fault.

Not only had she shown just how weak she was to let her weapon take over her, she also caused others to die while doing so. She didn't deserve to have been given this second chance at life. Some other whisp should have. Someone who wouldn't lead to the death of their allies. She was just a weak little slave girl that was so caught up in not dying the same way she ended up dooming the lives of others and herself. What good was she?

Kyo felt tears slide down her dirt covered cheeks, her sobs now quiet as she just sat there and stared at the body of the beast she had fought so hard to slay. Her eye displayed the confusion she felt as the body began to become something akin to ashe before her eyes, the product of so beginning to fall around her and her allies. What was happening? Words popped into her head, almost as if her mind was helping remember things she didn't remember experiencing.

A prize for defeating the beast. Kyo frowned in disgust, she didn't deserve anything of the sort nor did she want it. She wasn't the one who fought the beast, it was that damned scythe. She didn't want any sort of product from what it did to her, not to mention she didn't deserve it. The others had fought with their own determination and rage for that 'prize'. All she did was let some weapon she was supposed to wield wield her. She didn't deserve anything of the sort.

As her mind became fuzzier, from the blood loss or the glowing ashe she didn't know, she welcomed it. She didn't want to be awake to face anymore of herself. She was just a slave and died one too. She didn't deserve to be sitting here trying to be some hero for some God. She should be resting in the dirt in some grave no one would visit. That was her fate, she has no right to change it because she doesn't deserve to.

As here eyes closed something in Kyo thought that this might be for good. That she would close her eyes and not wake up because it was obvious for anyone and expecially the God that she didn't deserve this and that she was a waste of her time and resources. Kyo allowed herself to be lulled into the sleep by the ash. She was ready to face whatever came next even if it was nothing.

 

[SirDerpingtonIV]

Kietlav shakily rose to his feet, letting out a few course coughs, dust and blood in his breath as he turned his pale, ice-hewn eyes about the arena, watching the others. He was unsure exactly what happened, and perhaps had gone unconscious in those bleak moments as his strength deserted him, but everything seemed to have turned out alright in the end. He could barely feel his limbs, and looked down to his pale, wound-scarred arms, where his daemonic companions had feasted on his flesh and blood to fuel themselves. He looked down at each of them, the black, warped, eye-embedded axe, and the shield on his left arm. He clanked the two against eachother, before opting to slump back down against a pile of rubble before his legs buckled.

"You two are worth something after all," he sighed, his eyes hanging half-lidded, threatening to close again. "Still not liking either of you, but we will be helping eachother survive," he grumbled to the weapons, the smallest grin crossing his lips. The wisp felt... solid, at least more so than the others looked, and he even seemed solid, with defined features, although some details were likely missing. He set his hands on his thighs and leaned back with a long, extended sigh, taking a few moments of precious relaxation.

The others... what even were the others doing? Kietlav looked up, forcing his eyes to stay open as he watched the others gathered around, speaking to eachother. They huddled around the corpse of the fallen Judge, and one of them took something from it. It was black, and dripped with some ichor, and he couldn't quite grasp what it was until Irosane took a giant bite from the thing. Kietlav held his breath for a moment before letting it out in an exaggerated huff. "Just when I am thinking things won't get weirder, eh?" he asked of his two weapons, watching Irosane devour the heart before he began to convulse. Kietlav considered standing, but was unsure if he could, and besides, what idiot just eats something like that? He'd probably be fine, it didn't make since for the strange feathered God to put them here only to kill some of them by something as silly as that, and this very much seemed like something designed by her, since she put them all here.

Regardless, whatever this was, and whatever was to come, Kietlav would endure it, with all the strangeness it brought. As he thought that, the air seemed to light up with strange magic, and Kietlav felt himself course with a strange, although pleasant energy. As he lie there, he watched the chains change, and the weapons glow and quiet for a few moments, and he could welcome that quiet from the damned, wicked things. The magic shimmered about him for a few more moments before it dissappeared, and somehow, Kietlav felt stronger, more resilient, able to ENDURE more. It only made sense, after all. He would continue onward and pull through, to be as hardy as the mountain itself. Despite this new resilience, he could still barely move, and opted instead to lie where he was.

His eyes found Niatiel and Vystari, and he did not take long to realize that Vystari had died in Niatiel's arms, and judging by her posture, the other wisp looked nothing short of decimated, like this whole world had fallen back into black. He felt the stirrings of pity, for he too had suffered loss, a family he could not remember the faces of, in a city whose beauty he couldn't describe. Then again, he could hardly explain any of it to her, he'd seem mad, rambling about things only he knew of, and she may not even remember anything, as he did not before his choice.

The Beast itself departed, leaving the survivors alone, and seemingly more cold than they had started. Eventually, Niatiel lie down by the side of Vystari's smiling corpse, and Kietlav frowned. Another dead, or simply resting? He couldn't tell, and could only hope for the better, since she had tried so hard to save him, alongside the fool who had eaten of the heart. The others he did not truly recognize. He knew their names, but had not met them, and certainly didn't feel like it now. The warrior shut his eyes, letting out a few heavy breaths as he tried to lull himself to sleep.

"If anything happens, I will be woken," the warrior reasoned with himself, before drifting off to sleep.

 

[Euclid Leaf]

...

As the sacrifice was made by Harmony and Niatiel, the both of them can feel the building power leaving their fragile twinkling forms. This essence dribbled and flowed, escaping in a burst of fleeting light from their chests. It was a spark of color, like the blooming of a firework. One unique to the two wisps. And this faint light filled this forgotten place, sparkling in the dark recess before all of their eyes closed shut. And just for a moment, glimmering, ethereal chains can be seen. Hanging down from far above, connecting to each of the wisps who remained. Who survived. Though even that state of fact seemed to be changing as they fell to the deep sleep spell. One by one.

Somewhere, as the lulling set in and your minds began to drift away, a sweet voice can be heard.
A distant echo. It wavered and shook, sounding contained with a stiff verbration. As though trying to breach a body of water.

While you drift, soon enough, a sweet musk scent fills your noses. Like the gentle night breeze, carrying the smell of a distant forest. Or was it a feeling, more so? A brooding thing. Similar to the clattering of gnawing trees that hang over the edges of a dark dream. Whatever it was -- it was over quickly. But not before you were given something.

-- Each person experiences a dream, which will reveal something different based on their choice from the beginning;

Those with Black Vessels will remember a shard of their past, as they have chosen to keep their old names. These are merely vague fragments, and do not reveal too much. But rather open up more questions. However, before this, they are faced with a choice. Their Black Vessel will wish to consume the memory. By allow it, you will evolve the Black Vessel by one stage. Keeping the memory for yourself will not grant any direct power. Gain 1 [Dread]. Mark this into your [Character Sheet], for future reference. All effects of your choices will be seen once you awaken.

Those who have Stigmas will not have a vision of their past, nor be faced with a similar choice. They will experience something else, entirely. What they saw would be of something that they did not understand yet. A death, an aged symbol, and the hand of something unseen. To them, they will each see something different. Yet the same. (I will provide each Stigma bearer with a vision via PM, as to not ruin the surprise.)

-- Irosane, whose reckless quest for power has afflicted him with a gift of unknown power. Whether gift or curse, that will have to be discovered. The purpose of what lingers within him cannot be fully understood at this moment, but in his sleep, it will awaken and grant him a dream unlike the others;

Spoiler

From the darkness you are blinded by a ray of light and suddenly find yourself in a place you've never seen before.

A faint star burns in the sky, a red sunken sun that has carved a line into the purple, faded background. There are black splotches that bore into the sky. As though the very stars have been torn from their rightful places, leaving only a hollow void. Surrounding you are great pillars that rise above the sea of clouds that swirl beneath you, booming and raging with untold storms. You stand at the center of this scene, upon one of these pillars yourself. Wondering if it will withstand the power of the violent storms clashing below. In the flashes of dust and light you see outlines of unholy monsters lurking underneath the smokey waves, grotesque beings you wish to never see up close. As you recoil from the edge, a black hand rises from the abyss. A monolithic limb covered in scales and hundreds of shards of light that burst with green lightning. But as they turn to face you, gazing with a strange purpose, it dawns upon you that these might actually be eyes of some sort. It towers above you for a moment, as though waiting to crush you. But suddenly, it descends and opens up to reveal something hidden inside the massive, oozing palm. Red liquid pours from an opening, creating a strange texture to the bizarre shape of the exposed, melded pink flesh. The way the pink skin peels back and shudders, welcoming you into the chasm, reminds you of something strangely lascivious.

A curled child can be seen deep within the flesh-like cavern. It stands up, heat rising from its naked body, its bare form covered by the red ooze. It stares at you and reaches out a hand. For a moment you wonder what to do. But before you are able to collect your thoughts, the massive monstrous hand closes around you.

The last thing you hear is a single word. 'Parent'

When the dreams and visions end, the choices and forewarning, all of you stir awake to the sound of a faint scraping against the floor. As you lift your bleary eyes, the intrusion of light seemed almost unbearable. Painful, even. You quickly discover that this is because of your new bodies. The 'wisps' have now been given form, and each of them resemble something more than was before. The air and floor feel cold to the touch and the sound of your heartbeat is strange, yet familiar. Even the way the white cloaks draped across their bodes felt familiar, somehow.

Nearly all of it can be described as such. Familiar.

You are all scattered. Lying across the floor or laid up against one of the many pillars or plinths or piles of discarded metal. Many more of which are broken and collapsed. This new space appeared to be a large atrium that circled around you, ornamented by silver and gold. The levels were spread out in rings, which lead to openings. No doubt to other places. A dozen of these halls were still available, at the very least. The rest were blocked, somehow. Whether by collapsed pillar or caved walls. The age of it all spoke for itself, as though lost long ago. Though, the words 'forgotten' felt more accurate. Tattered drapes with torn tassels, eroded symbols, and broken statuettes of various figures hung from the walls, all painted by a fine layer of dust. And at the very center of the room, where they were all faced towards, was a cracked staircase, surrounded by shattered columns, that appeared to spiral downwards. It seemed particularly disheveled there. The ceiling was cracked open above these toppled spires, as if torn off, leading up to a purely black sky with a single source of light that lit everything there. The ominous crimson slit, stared back at you, the ember-like remains of the sun you first saw when you awoke in this strange world.

As you look around, those with Black Vessels will find that their weapons have not left their side. Even without the physical presence of theirs, those with Stigmas can feel their silvered tools lingering somewhere close by. As though just within arms reach.

Suddenly, you hear something. A faint scratching again. It came from behind, and when you turn you head to look, you see the Goddess herself. The horned lady seemed to be doing picking something up, the tips of her clawed hands inadvertently scratching against the tiled floor. You realize that the hunched shape in her hand was a shriveled body. Of a person.

Her pale eyes linger low. "Poor, little one... You may be weak. But you are not worthless..."

Picking up the husk in her arms, she stands up and begins to carry the body towards one of the hallways, stepping down onto one of the lower rings. As she does so, she notices that you've all awoken. A faint smile is presented to the each of you, along with a soft bow and nod of her head.

"Ah, so you've stirred from your fated slumber, my chosen... How was your dream? I fear not all are pleasant. But each will reveal something important. Whether about yourself, or of the journey that has been laid before you. But not all are as fortunate as you." She said, solemnly looking down at the corpse in her hands.

The Goddess looked like she had just lost one of her own children.

"I know it is early to ask you to stand and walk, as your new bodies are fresh and fragile. But I must ask you this favor." she says, trying her best to restore a smile. "I realize that you have many questions and that there is much to discuss, regarding... well, everything. But first allow me to grant this one a proper homecoming."​

The towering horned figure then turns on her heels and begins descending forward, the clicking reminding you of the hidden black talons underneath her dress. You will find it hard to keep up with her, as her giant stature means each one of her steps would be two or even three of yours.

"I believe the best way to provide an explanation is to show all of you what the purpose of it all is. Why I worked so hard to find you and take you here. By going to the place where the lost are laid rest, you may be able to understand with your own eyes."
​

...​

 

[Juju]

Spoiler: NIA DREAM

...

You drift in this state of sleep for a long while. Before you are able to see anything, a scream shakes you to your core. It is a tormented wailing that shudders the darkness into shape.

As the dark dream clouds waver and disperse you are left alone in a pale chamber, lit by torches places far and wide. Almost haphazardly. Grotesque silhouettes line the sides and flank you, and perhaps you get a feeling that it is best you are not able to see very clearly. The aroma is also something incredibly unpleasant. A sense of unease fills you as your eyes settle and you begin to recognize these shapes. And then the rancid smell starts to make more sense. A hand, a head, a leg, all strewn about. Ripped and torn, tossed and lined randomly, it was as if there had been a spell of mysterious frenzy here.

And at the center of it all the bloody chaos, a fresh one can be seen.

Whatever, or whoever it was, they were tied down, wiggling like a worm under the mercy of their cruel captors. A gathering of stalked figures surrounds the small writhing figure. What illuminated these beings were their lanterns of dull, orange light. The soft light seemed almost alluring if not for the terrorizing act happening just below. They appeared to be chanting something, conducting some heinous ritual with the poor victim. One of the iron frames were open and a small, flaming slug was brought out with a pair of tongs. It was then rested upon the victim. You can see smoke rising as their screams intensify. Soon it would end, and all you can hear left is the chanting.

“--_a——” “Y__a___—” “Lo—---__er-””

Though it was loud and clear, the language sounded warped and muddled. Was it your ears?

Yes, it would appear so.
Just when the words began to resemble something you understand, one of them looks up. A nasty, rotten face of blubber and disease meets yours. Something once resembling human, but with all of the life sucked out of their flabby, swollen flesh. Sunken, blood-red eyes peer deep into you, and your head is filled with an incredible aching. As if just looking at the frightening visage was painful itself.

"G-god... woken... Godwoken!... GODWOKEN!"

A vicious scream escapes its mouth and the congregation suddenly turns. They are sent into a mad rage, all of them yelling this word, spitting and cawing as if it was some sort of foul curse. They raise rusted blades, bent pitchforks, sharpened tongs, and whatever else, in arms against you. One of them bearing an object you’ve never seen before. It was bulky and made of metal with a long tube. Even before you have a chance to spin around and flee from the raging mob, a loud roar echoes the space. A torrent of flame and a cast of burning bright metal was spewed your way.

The incredible pain of searing metal in your flesh is the only thing you feel left. Before you awaken.

Niatiel awoke with a flinch and a gasp. She didn't even try to get up and instead stayed where she was, curled up in the dust, whimpering faintly while hugging herself. Behind her eyes she could still see the blades, the dismembered limbs and the rotten hoods that did little to mask the monstrous faces beneath. Closing her eyes meant seeing it again, so she stared in a daze at the floor directly in front of her.

Her voice was frail and stretched when she spoke, "Vystari...? Iro? K-Kyo... m..."

Even in her awakened state, she could still feel the lingering burns across her skin like an invisible tapestry. Her hands went to her chest, her stomach, trying to ease a pain that was not there.

Godwoken. Their words rattled in her mind like a jagged echo. Godwoken. What did it mean? Why did they attack? And that person... the blood.

Shudders enveloped her new body, which she didn't yet acknowledge save for the roar of blood in her ears and the runaway thump of her heart. The chill from the floor leeched into her, but it was a welcome respite from the searing phantom pain. It was only beginning to recede when the goddess spoke.

Niatiel gingerly propped herself into a sitting position and for the first time since waking up took a moment to look at her surroundings. The others, she soon realized, were scattered between the pillars. She brushed away strands of pale blue from her eyes. Where was Vystari? The question lingered for only a second before she remembered. Did the essence work? There was no body, but also no Vystari. But who was that in the goddess's arms? It didn't look like Vystari, but maybe the body was too shrivelled to tell?

As the goddess turned to lead them onwards Niatiel climbed to her feet, feeling strangely unsteady. Her limbs felt awkward and as she looked down to inspect them the blue strands once again fell down around her face like a curtain. It was hair, she recalled, brushing it away from her eyes again. It was soft to the touch, but it didn't seem to behave very well.

Nia tried her best but soon found herself struggling to keep up with the goddess. Every clawed step she took was more than triple her own, leaving her with little choice but to trail after her in a sort of trotting jog. It was only made worse by her cloak. The pale lengths of it pooled around her feet like melted ivory, clearly designed for someone of greater stature. It billowed against her legs with every stride, making it a test of agility to keep up the pace let alone mind where she placed her feet.

The body in Nera's hands still worried her, more so than her footing. Was it Dwynn? Vystari? She tried to get a better look at the corpse, tilting her head up on the rare occasion she managed to catch up with the goddess, even going so far as to hop slightly in an effort to see over Nera's arms. It was during one of these jumps that her footing eventually caught on the folds of fabric.

The ground was quick to break her fall, the dusty marble feeling sheer and cold against her outstretched palms. A faint shiver coiled up her arms in remembrance of the metallic shards. She couldn't help but inwardly flinch. Nonono, stop it...

Only allowing herself to stay down for a moment, Nia quickly untangled herself and rose up. She gathered up what she could of her cloak in her arms, freeing her legs somewhat, and hurried to catch up with the group.

 

[SirDerpingtonIV]

The sleep of the iceborn warrior was hardly peaceful. It began in black, and Kietlav was alone in that darkness, until he saw a singular eye open before him, red, leering, and as venemous as he had last held its gaze. "What do you want, daemon?" he spoke, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes, taking a resisting stance against the foul creature that had attached itself to him like a leech. It did not speak, for it never did, but instead, he felt, in his mind, its presence, and it showed him images, thoughts, and such things. He would receive a memory, and and the blade wanted it. It would grow stronger, if Kietlav allowed it to devour the memory before he could see it.

Such a price was unacceptable, and Kietlav was surprised the foul devil weapon did not know better. He shook his head, teeth grit together like two great slabs of stone. "No. You will leave, and I will see this memory." His voice was flat, and he looked down upon the eye, despite it looming above him, his cold, icy gaze meeting that of the daemon's. Eventually it departed, and Kietlav could tell it was not happy with his choice. Simply, Kietlav did not care for the opinions of angry metal.



The wind howled about him like an angry daemon, and Kietlav tensed, spreading his stance to maintain balance, lowering his center of gravity, raising a hand before his face to shield his eyes from the fury of this storm. It was a blizzard, and a mighty one at that. It was home, he knew, but he did not feel happy in this memory. He felt worried, and marched along beside others, soldiers like him. A man beside him spoke, although Kietlav could not see his face.

"Kietlav, you met the Doyavari before, what was she like?" The man spoke with a young voice, but Kietlav could not see his face, and that troubled him. A thousand names crammed at the edge of his mind, but he could remember none, grasp none, it was as if he tried to grasp the very same winter winds around him, pointless.

"Vasily, I more than met her, I knew the Doyavari, fought with her on the southern front against the followers of the Kaboryus," he explained, spitting the last word like venom. "She was something, Vasily, a mountain on the field, the very frost and wind marching to her word like soldiers!" Kietlav laughed, although even now he knew that laugh never quite reached his eyes. Through his memory, he could not touch what he remembered then, but he felt pain, great pain. "She who slew Warlocks, and makes the winds her allies," he spoke, the old words drifting from his tongue. He spoke these words in this memory, but did not know their meaning.

Vasily must have been the young man's name, this faceless stranger or friend, and Doyavari, a title perhaps, but not one he knew. Kaboryus, warlocks, and old words commonly spoke, words his tongue knew well, yet his mind had forgotten. This memory was blurred like the storm around him, and for a time, Vasily's very body was little more than a shape that spoke and shivered, and Kietlav could feel little.

Eventually, their feet found an incline, and the column of soldiers marched up, along a twisting cliff-born path, the wind threatening to either flatten them against it or sweep them off with greedy, cold hands.

"I cannot wait to see her Kietlav, do you think that when we fight, I will do well?"

Kietlav could no longer really sense the emotions those words carried, but only felt himself frown, the battle-songs of metal in his head. "None of us do well in our first, Vasily, we only survive. You will hardly be made Vogal in your first," came his reply, cold, but perhaps with truth.

Vasily did not speak again for a while, until Kietlav realized that truly he had been speaking, the blizzard simply spoke louder, with its frozen tongues. Kietlav did not bother to speak, for he knew it to have no purpose, and instead kept marching. Perhaps, he did truly hear, but didn't remember, as the whole of this memery blurred together, but he didn't think, didn't know, didn't care.

"-so strong, the strongest of us in Roskarov, together, we can beat them back, the Kaboryus, the-" Kietlav heard from his young, foolhardy companion, until the wind silenced that voice once more, and they kept marching.

The memory stretched out like worn fabric, and Kietlav had trouble keeping track of where his feet fell, toes already numb, and it was this feeling, this cold, that was clearest to him right now, of all things. The path carried them along to the crest of the hill, and the column stopped, and milled about, as Kietlav made his way to the front, barking orders, for men to stand aside. He heard them whisper in volume he could not hear, but he did not need to hear to know what they said. They prayed, and as Kietlav arrived at the front of the group, he knew why.

Before them, lay the dead. Corpses in brown, corpses in grey, corpses in black. They blurred together to make a field of mud and melted snow, blood and death. Kietlav took a few steps forward, and the memory trembled, as if it was a crumbling structure on its last pillars, his vision rippling like the surface of a pond. All he saw then, as this fragment came to end, was a banner. Two axes crossed under the moon, in brilliant white on blue, stained red and torn. He saw that banner, and felt pain, and slept no more.

Kietlav awoke with a sigh, and brought his gaze up to the cieling, a sorrow in his bones, a sorrow he could not name. The memory told little but a lot, and none of it was enough.

His body felt solid, and he felt even the beat of his heart in his chest, the air in his throat, and such simple things as the hairs on his face, as he brushed the tips of his fingers against them. He sat up, taking a few deep breaths, and looking at his hands, and the daemonic weapons attatched to them. For a moment, he saw instead an axe-head of steel attached to a haft of oaken wood, and a shield emblazoned with blue and white. He eyed the weapons for a few moments longer, before he stood up, looking around the room, his face set in a stern, stoic expression, almost practiced and refined, as if he was used to this face, this expression.

He found himself in a ruin, with pillars and metal and light, all these things he didn't have the words to describe. He had a feeling he had not been a scholar in the life before, and thus had little interest in any of this. Just more grey stone, as that seemed all there was of this world thus far. A faint noise turned his head, and he saw that the Goddess was in their midst once more, clutching a corpse in her arms, talking of graves and the dead once more. Perhaps she was the Goddess of such things, death and corpses, graveyards and funeral. Perhaps, though Kietlav didn't particularly like any of this.

His mind was occupied with what it had remembered, the banner, the faceless friend, those names and titles, and the Kaboryus. Whoever they had been, he had hated them, perhaps more than he had hated anything else. Perhaps they were the Foe he remembered from his first dream?

His thoughts were interrupted as she led them onwards, through decaying halls and past statues without identity. She spoke of laying to rest, and giving answers, and Kietlav merely followed, barely listening. Answers he wanted, but something made him doubt the answers would be any more clear than anything else thus far.

Kietlav moved with a practiced pace, a brisk jog that felt as if he had done it a thousand times before, like that stoic expression he made. Soldier's things, he presumed. However, he paused in his motions as one of those amongst them tripped. He turned his head, slowing enough to lag behind the group, allowing the straggler room to catch up. Although he did not recognize her face, or her blue head of hair, he... somehow knew her. "Niatiel," he spoke in a low, surprisingly soft tone. "Come, we can catch up together," he spoke, and for a moment, her face was that of another, and he felt a deep, aching pain. His stoic mask broke for a second, before he returned to composure, turning and returning to his jog, at a pace to match hers.

 

[Siren77]

‘What manner of hell is this? A broad and rather redundant question to ask, considering this entire reborn life as I’ve known it has been nothing more than a strange conglomerate of hellscapes and infernos to torture my soul. Yet this place... its different and yet all the same. I am still Irosane, no longer that lost soul that I have forsaken for my own benefit of a lack of mindless torment. However, in this place I do no feel the ever present fear of consequence, rather a lighter freer lift in my lack of a soul. Yes... now I see it. This is not the real fantasy that I have stumbled upon, but rather a twisted amalgamation of it in the form of a dream. There is no goddess Nera here to make false promises and to steer myself and others toward danger, no twisted beast of a Judge to prey upon me, and as I gaze upon my hands I see no shining weapons to dispel whatever threats that may come my way. Yet in this lucid state of dreaming, I feel no urge to fight. Only an alluring feeling to explore and behold what this consequentless place has in store.’

‘A harsh crimson sun looms above my faded figure, casting a sense of recognition in its tone and vibrancy. Pillars upon pillars encircle my position, their white marble turned pink in the celestial bodies light above. Their method of floating and purpose for being here is given no explanation, though it is foolish of me to expect one. The only purpose they serve, as far as mine eyes can behold, is to shelter me from that of the abyss of a thundering torrent below. The storms power and magnitude below is a cause for doubt in their stability, yet the platform holds strong regardless. Faith... I must have faith in the land I walk, lest I be cast into a greater pain below the footholds of humility.’

‘A storm is not the only thing to fear. No, for beholding the clouds further only reveals the shadows of terrifying monstrosities moving as a pack of sharks in patterns and formations, one of which can be recognized as the stigma burned into my chest. I could look no longer, and retreat from the edge that I might look for somewhere to go. In my inquisition of exploration, I soon find that the adventure was to come to me. A Titans arm, bound in scales and shards of heaven, displaying its glory for all to see. However only I am their to view it. As green sparks flashed in the air, it became apparent that the arm was just the tip of the iceberg, for just as I could only see the outlines of monsters below me. So too was their a visible shape of something larger and much more threatening that extended past the limb.’

‘In an act of appeasement, I fell to the earth and let my forehead rest against the marble ground beneath me, in an act of appraisal to such a mighty and ancient creature. With no weapons, and no burning spirit of anger dwelling within me, I felt no need to fight. Besides, without my companions I am powerless against the beings that dwell in this land. After a moment, I felt the hand of the Titan draw near to me, and did look up to behold it’s palm up and open. A child covered in a mess of flesh and the stench of blood stood, looking freshly birthed yet not near as small as a newborn. An outstretched hand was to greet me, and just as I was about to take it, the Colossus destroyed me. Leaving me for the void.’

Irosane jumped up from his place in an immediate panic, his thoughts all a blur, with the need to survive taking the reigns once more. In his brief moment of madness, his weapons had been summoned and in a fit of rage he did guide them through the pillar he had rested against. For a moment they sliced through like water, only to be caught three quarters of the way into its volume. His chest heaved over and over again as he gasped for air, with sweat beading at the corners of his hairline. That would be normal, if it weren’t for the issue that he hadn’t possessed any form of hair to begin with. Only now did Iro began analyzing himself and did see that the wispy outline of a man had now taken some form to behold.

Soft blonde, almost white hair, rested in a mess atop the scalp of his head. It was long and shaggy, yet it felt comfortable and familiar. His eyes also viewed things in a fresh new way, and should anyone look upon him they’d first see a pair of green eyes, that after a few more blinks would fade to a dark crimson. An odd change in his anatomy, but fitting all the same. His build was much more stocky and filled in, no longer whispy and intangible. He felt taller, with a greater girth to his shape that was cloaked in white. Could this be what he looked like in his previous life as well?

‘It doesn’t matter, I am Irosane and no one else. The person I think of it dead, and I am nothing more than a reborn husk given new life and purpose.’

Once his mind was reset to a more calm pace, Iro realized what he had done in the reaction of his broken mind. It surprised him that he had managed to sink the blades so far into such a sturdy surface, even more so that the blades hadn’t shattered. He was stronger, but not to the extent of anything supernatural. Merely abnormal, so perhaps his prayers were answered as he suffered to sleep. An oddity, considering the goddess Nera’s apparent lack of care in his allies and his own suffering. Speaking of which...

Iro heard a soft scratching behind him, and after retrieving his blades, he did turn to face what was causing those noise. His face hardened as he looked upon Nera, the rage boiling in his stomach once more. Though, this unwarranted aggression soon faded upon seeing the corpse she carried in her arms, and the mournful expression on her face. The face of a parent who had just lost a child of their own. For a moment he felt sympathy for her, somehow knowing that grief was a terrible force to face. Yet soon his natural behavior returned to him, though not near as powerful as it was before. The goddess made promises to answer any questions they might have, which would suffice to appease him. For now anyways. So he did follow her.

“Atleast you have the compassion to ask us, rather than throwing us to the beasts and allowing us to suffer alone.” His gaze lingered on the husk she carried. “The dead’s misfortune is of no fault but your own. And now they will never know why their souls were to be sacrificed in such a vicious manner. Where will their explanation be? In the pit of torment you’ve sentenced them to in their apparent second demise? No, for just as we have questions, so too will they as their souls drift aimlessly through the void.”

Iro’s voice had changed just as much as his body had. Rather than the monotonous and unrecognizable vocal cords his wispy form had been given, he now had a much more definable and unique speech. His timber was deep, and accompanied with a strange accent of Latin origin. Odd considering he knew no other language save for the one he spoke now.
(Think Ezio Auditore but with a deeper tone)

In his bout of wielding his fierce tongue, he had failed to notice his friend stumble and fall to the ground. But after looking back and recognizing Nia’s now enhanced form, he also did see Kietlav standing with her and waiting. There was no reason to turn back, as she was in good hands, so he advanced forward with the Goddess.

 

[Juju]

Being left behind was a fear Niatiel didn't know she had until now, and the more she thought about it the more it seemed to grow. Eventually, she had convinced herself that if they turned the corner they would surely disappear and she would be left alone in this dark, forgotten corner of the world. Before that could happen, however, someone lagged behind.

He had a stony face and not just because of his expression. It was as if he was carved from weather-worn stone, with rough-cut features and shoulders that looked like they could lift mountains. Judging by the demon axe and shield at his hip Nia realized this was Kietlav, a conclusion silently confirmed by something in the back of her mind.

In his new form Kietlav looked more than a little intimidating, but the blue of his eyes was warm and when he spoke he had a voice so soothing it made Nia believe there was nothing left in the world to fear. Still, she swore she saw a shadow pass over his face for the briefest moment.

At his words Nia nodded her head, grateful that he had slowed down to wait for her. "Oh! Y-yeah good idea." She smiled brightly, relief bubbling up in her chest. "Thank you for waiting."

While she ran beside Kietlav she snuck discreet (or at least attempted to be) glances at him, her eyes flickering like gold coins. He looked stronger than before and much more... Kietlav-like? Or did Kietlav look like Kietlav before he got his body? This was getting confusing. The wisp and his current form were all melted together in her mind now. Maybe he was the same, but more? Or had she just been unable to see the whole picture until now, like half a reflection?

Regardless of these philosophical ponderings, New-Kietlav's appearance was sporting something that caught Nia's attention. He had hair on his face. It looked kind of fuzzy, and she fought back the sudden urge to reach up and touch it out of curious awe. How long could face-hair get? Past his knees? Kietlav was so tall though. Maybe not. Was it to keep warm? Could you hide things in it? Why didn't she have face-hair?

Meanwhile, Kietlav kept up his stony expression. Maybe she had just imagined the sadness from earlier? What about the haunted expression after they had all been judged? Maybe he had a bad dream like she did.

"...Kietlav?" she started, turning her horned head to look at him. "I never got to thank you for what you did for Vystari. You were so brave. I-i thought she was going to fall and it was all my fault." Niatiel pressed her lips together, fighting back tears as the memory resurfaced. Was Vystari really gone? No, she couldn't be. The essence had to have worked. It had to...

"When the platform crumbled I didn't know if..." she trailed off, then broke the unhappy silence with a defiantly optimistic tone. "I'm just really glad you're okay!"

 

[The Suspicious Eye]

Spoiler: Harmony's Dream

...

A faint breeze stirs you from your listless drifting. You suddenly awaken in an unfamiliar place. You are unsure whether this is a memory or something happening now. You are alone, surrounded in company only by a hallway of endless mazes and the red light of a sunken sun in the skylight that cranes above you. It is something you've never seen before. And though you have no memories as evidence, you still get the feeling that whatever happened to the sky is something completely unnatural. Truly, this must be a dream. Or a nightmare. For a time you will wander, lost and aimless. The maze will not end, and even when it does, you are met with cavernous drops and sunken rooms flooded with water. Or at least, you hope it is just water. Just when you begin to lose hope of finding a way out, you then see something. At the end of ones of these halls is a different light struggling against the red tide. An orange glow wiggles in the darkness. It wanders to and fro, moving through the halls as if it was meandering just like you. The fickle light seems vexing in the coldness of the shadow that surrounds you, beckoning you warmly. Suddenly, a symbol, a series of the very same one begin to flutter in your peripheral, floating like little fire flies. It was a swirling marking, adorned at the top with a closed eye.

You are unable to search meaning in it by memory, but it somehow feels familiar.

As your eyes adjust more, you begin to see a shape. It stood beside the light, holding it out before them.
A human, from what you can tell. At least, human enough. It was hunched over, poking at something, then standing back up and skulking another direction.

Though it was a strange and unsettling sighting, you cannot help but feel a warmth in the presence of the swirling eye symbol. It was like a beacon in all the darkness, drawing your senses, pulling the line of your eyes. It was as if it was silently calling out to you. But as you feel the compulsion to move toward it, a hand grasps your shoulder. A sinister feeling can be felt coursing through your veins. You get as though it is not flesh at all, a cold hard material. A soft whispering can be heard. A pair of words is whispered into your ears.

'Devotion. Damnation.'

Then, as you turn to face who it was, the dream is over. You are thrust back into life, into reality. The last thing you hear is a wild scream.

"God... woken.."

...

Laying flat on the hardened floor Harmony's chest slowly rose and fall with every strained breath. The frigid air circling around her enveloped her body, tickling her skin under the soft cloak swaddled around her. The steady tempo of her existence pulsing in her ears and chest, was familiar yet unsettling. The loud concert of her soul softer, engulfed by the rhythmic pace in her chest. She felt weighed down and disjointed, having once feeling so light this sensation stirred her awake. Opening her eyes she winced as the bright lights shined against her faded green, almost clear eyes. Raising a hand she shielded her eyes from the piercing glow, still shaking from the sinister feeling that her dream left her with. She winced, adjusted her hand to cast a shadow over her new eyes and stared up at the spotlight illuminating the area.

Her hearing shifted and picked up the sound of nails scraping against metal shocked out across the room. Sliding her arms against the floor she flinched as the cold radiated against her skin. This is new, cold. Lifting herself up her eyes adjusted to the light and she noticed her form. The wispy form she one saw was gone, instead she was encased in this pale skin that moved with life. She felt heavier, but connected to the world, her weight realized against the world she struggled to find the strength to push herself up.

As she rose her streaked hair fell against the middle of her spine. Her bangs draped over her eyes, like a cascading black and white curtain swaying against the breeze. The muscles in her wide shoulders and strong arms tensed, taking on her weight. Running her long fingers through her hair she pushed back her bangs, letting the cold air hit against her forehead. Taking in a deep breath the cold air jolting her throat and lungs she let out a heavy sigh as she let her hair fall back. Thinking of her dream, she wondered what it all meant. It was nothing I remembers, but then why something like that? Devotion? Damnation? What does it all mean? Who was...

Her attention was taken as the scratching sound stopped behind her. Whipping her head around her shoulder she looked over at the familiar figure towering behind her. Narrowing her eyes she tried to piece out what the horned figure was doing, only for them to widen as she realized what it was. It was a body. Looking around for the others she was too far away from the others to see. Turning back to the woman she watched her take the body into her arms. Heart racing the once silent music began to rise up within her.

"Hey!" She hoarsely called out to the familiar figure. She was too worried to take in her deep voice. Trying her best to get to her feet, her new weight sent a shock through her body and she fell back to the hard ground. Rolling to her left she winced as she felt the sting of metal against her tailbone. Letting out a silent curse she looked back to the woman who seemed to have noticed them.

It was her voice that struck Harmony first, this was the Goddess she met when she awoke here. Shifting her weight as she spoke, her brow furrowed as the Goddess mentioned the journey laid before them. Does she mean that dream might be of the future? She would have asked more questions, but as the Goddess looked at the body Harmony's mind went back to Dwynn. "Is that --"

Cut off as the Goddess spoke Harmony watched her walk away. "Wait!" Pushing through the pain she stood to her feet and began to follow the Goddess. "Wait!" Struggling at first, she soon found a steady stride as she tried to catch up to the giant Goddess's gate. Gaining speed she could feel her body rise with every push of her legs as she tried to reach for answers. Passing through the others as they spoke, she called out to the Goddess. "Is that Dwynn!"

"On your, right!" Sidestepping Iro, Harmony picked up the pace to the Goddess. Sweat dancing off her skin she continued to run up to the Goddess until she was able to reach her side. Slowing her pace slightly to a long jog she looked up and over at the corpse the Goddess was carrying. Unsure what she was going to see, she had to know.

 

[Lekiel]

~✤~

Light of Lights. . .

She loved basking in Her presence. The Eye of the Morning. It graced her with peace, stilled her soul with its soothing rays. The Goddess' light. A light that would so easily purify the lands of despairing darkness, that would shine with a flash of blinding brilliance, banishing the land off creeping shadows. Scorching fel flesh. When she came to Her in the Rite of Exultations, that same light would cascade through the heaven's of her mind, falling gently on her like a warm embrace, so palpable she could almost feel it on her skin. No matter where she may be. It was a serenity like none other.

"Brielle..." The endless bliss wavered. A frown creased across her young forehead as she struggled to chant the chorus of the Rite.

"Brielle!" Unwittingly, her mind latched on to the familiar voice. Her fragile concentration shattered, and the harmonious chorus faltered on her lips.

"Whatissit?" She hissed back a whisper, mildly perturbed. Eyes now wide open, she heard a scuffling noise coming towards her from the side. Her mirrored half was shuffling over on her knees from across the smooth ceramic tiles. They were but two young girls, similar in height and age, even down to the autumn hues of their auburn hair. Two of a kind. A stark rarity amongst the Kal`Borians, one that often betokened of the extraordinary for the kingdom.

"It's so cold over there... Your side is warmer." And indeed her sister spoke the truth. Despite the glowing amber-hued elemental lamps that filled the chamber with warm lighting, she could feel a bracing wind that gusted through the tall windows of the Morning Tower. She could smell the coming rain, and perhaps a thunderstorm as well, though it was difficult to be certain with all the orange and yellow silks that that billowed from the ceiling. Their rich fabrics captured the light from the lamps, arrayed all around the chamber in swathing shimmering gradients that always brightened towards the highest center-point of the ceiling. Towards a painted symbol of the sun; glorious rays depicted in vivid lapis lazuli and icterine yellows. The same symbol that marked the center of the chamber in polished marble.

"Brianna, if you don't head back to your side Grandmaster Amiela is not going to be happy. Do you not mind dusting the shelves of the Great Library all over again?!" Despite her stern tone, it didn't stop her sister from sidling up to her side and taking her hand, while they knelt supposedly in practice of their Rites. Brianna's fingers were cold, but instead of shying away, she grasped it firmly with her own. Truth be told, she liked having her sister by her side. They were inseparable after all.

"I do not care... I like the library, don't you too?" Brielle rolled her eyes when she saw Brianna's incorrigible grin. Though she could barely suppress a smile herself. She paused for a moment to study her sister's face, it always filled her with a certain sense of awe. The girl wondered why others often felt so differently between the two of them. It was like looking into a mirror. Well... almost. Brianna had a splotch of crimson across half her face, which she often tried to hide by letting her hair down. Brielle did not mind it at all. In fact, she thought it rather fetching. It reminded her of the paints that decorated the faces of the Ivory Watch, only theirs was white. But every time she'd speak of it, Brianna would get upset.

"Well... yeah... it can be fun." Brielle acknowledged.

"Urgh... my knees hurt..! And my mind always wanders, I don't know how you can stand this." Brianna whined, attention already diverted to another topic.

"You just need to relax..-"

"I leave you girls on your own for a few minutes and you're already yabbering away." A stern lady's voice rang out from somewhere behind them. Both their mouths gaped opened in shock as they scrambled to their feet and turned to face the speaker.

"Grandmaster!" The twins yelped, seeing the middle-aged woman standing akimbo and looking down her pointed nose at them. Garbed in white flowing robes with silver embroidery etched into wide sleeves, she made for an imposing austere figure. Though her lithe graceful frame certainly belied her age, the Grandmaster exuded an aura of power from her mere presence, one that clearly transcended the physical realm.

"We were practicing I swear!"

"Yes! I tried my best, but it's too windy... I felt cold..-" They both spoke at once, somehow still afraid of some form of punishment despite their earlier bravado.

Amiela held up a hand for silence, hawklike gaze shifting between the two like an impartial and ruthless jury about to pass a damning verdict. Then her features softened into an amused smile. Walking towards them, she knelt down so that she could see them eye-to-eye.

"Do not worry... I believe you Brielle... and Brianna." Amiela's silver irises seem to sparkle with mirth as she looked at the two girls. "You're my daughters afterall." She could see both of them visibly relax, and a part of her ached, knowing that she'd been pushing them sometimes a little too harshly. They were only children afterall. Other girls their age would be out in the fields playing. Mayhap with a little schooling, but certainly not to the extent which these two endured daily. But the twins were special. She knew it from the day they were conceived. And signs foretold that the lands were headed into troubling times. Times that meant those who were special, did not partake so much of a privilege, but rather had the burden of responsibility. But the young often had trouble understanding responsibility. Who could blame them?

"Not now... not soon... but in a few years you will both be offered to the Reckoning..." She felt their gaze upon her. The intensity of their eyes bespoke of a precociousness far beyond their young years, so much so that Amiela had to take a moment in sheer wonder of the brevity of her own duty. As Guardian of her people. And as a mother to these two wondrous gifts from the Light of Lights.

"There will be many others during the Reckoning..." Amiela continued, "out of all of you... One will become the Blessed. I know in my heart, it will be either of you." The Grandmaster smiled proudly at her beloved charges.

"Aw.. why you do always say only one?"

"Yeah! Why can't it be two?? You're the Guardian, you can ask for two right?"

Amiela let out a tinkling chuckle. "It has always been that way... besides, it is not for us to decide... The Goddess calls the one whom she wishes. One whom she deems most worthy. And he, or she, will become Blessed. Now, being Blessed is no easy task. It's kind of like being the Guardian, or the King... more than that. Your words... your actions will shape the future of our land... and the people will always look to you, when there is need. And there is need..." The woman paused again, looking between the two of them to gauge their reactions. Their bright eyes spoke of their open receptive hearts, and it pleased the Guardian to know the purity of their intents even before they spoke.

Brielle was the first. "If I become Blessed.. I-- I-I'll ask the Goddess to renew the Forsaken Glades. So the Lornians can have their forests back!"

"And I am sure the Goddess will grant you her Light to complete the task, Brielle!"

"What about you Brianna? What will you do?"

Her other child seemed to hesitate for a moment, before declaring in a soft yet firm voice. "If I am Blessed, I will make Brielle Blessed too."

Brielle made an odd face at her sister. "Huh?! Mo- Grandmaster just told you that's not possible."

"Blessed are powerful... they can do whatever they want. I will make you Blessed, so we can both be powerful!"

"I'm not sure that's how it works Brianna..."

"That's alright Brielle, leave your sister be..." Amiela patted their tiny heads with an amused chuckle, though her eyes were unfathomable as she looked at Brianna. "But there is another thing I want you girls to know... the more power one has, the greater your responsibility becomes. Sometimes... you will have to make sacrifices... sacrifices for the good of others, even if it means people might not understand... even hate you for it..." Amiela looked towards her, and she could feel the power behind that gaze boring into her soul.

"But know this... The Goddess sees all, she sees the purest intentions of your heart... and will reward you-"

"That is a lie!" She nearly screeched at the Guardian. All at once, the atmosphere within the chamber began to darken. The shadows cast by the flickering lamps lengthened as even the vibrant silks seemed to lose their luster. A strike of thunder boomed from the outside, and as if it were the blaring call from abysmal depths, a haunting wail seemed to resonate discordantly from the city below. Marble and ceramics cracked, as one of the lamps suddenly exploded into a shower of crystalline shards. Then another. And another. Brielle began to breathe heavily, looking to her side, she didn't see Brianna. She was gone.

Standing now before her, was the Guardian. But she seemed unfazed by the rapidly descending chaos around her. The woman's visage was still. Almost too still.

"THAT IS A LIE!! THERE IS NO REWARD-- ONLY DAMNATION!!" Brielle did not relent, shrieking her frustrations at the still silent Guardian. Familiar haunting whispers began to tease at the vestiges of her mind. They were calling out to her though their words remained an enigma. A flare of white-hot anger flushed through her veins as she was suddenly acutely aware of what it was she was seeing. A memory... But it didn't end like this. Not with all this darkness and chaos. She didn't care. The things she heard disinterred a long-buried fury from the depths of her being. Her eyes stared darkly at the woman before her, as a sharp crack marked the start of a fissure along the jaw of the former Grandmaster.

Yes... Rage... Why have you need of such painful recollections o'Mourning Soul?

Her eyes were wild. A disembodied voice was speaking to her through the keening moans of tortured souls that permeated the chamber. She tried to shut it out with her hands but it only made the sounds louder. More and more cracks spiderwebbed across the Grandmaster's pallid features, and suddenly she was aware that the person before her was no longer a person, but a crumbling statue.

Suffer not this anguish any further... Remember your promise.. Give it to me, and with it... I will grant you power...

It had all been a lie.... She didn't want this. She had tried... tried so very hard... but she had been damned for it... there was no reward...

Take it...

"TAKE IT!!" Her tormented voice was the last thing she heard before the dream world crumbled into ruin.

Brielle awoke to a familiar sight, in an unfamiliar place. Hunched over to her side on the dusty ground, she saw the Goddess Nera bend to retrieve a shriveled something in her taloned hands. All the while she spoke in that same subdued yet poignant voice. Brielle turned away to let her eyes gaze over the forsaken plinths and columns that ringed the expansive atrium she now found herself in. Despite the occasional gilded precious metal, the place whispered of a forgotten time. As if it were so old as to have existed even before the presence of time... or perhaps, it existed outside of it. An ominous crimson slit that reminded Brielle of a shattered and dying world hung in a sea of oblivion above their heads, the only source of light. She heard voices around her, realizing that she was not alone, other than the Goddess herself.

As she moved to get up, something arrested her attention. Her hand. Pale fingers that clutched at the dusty unyielding ground. Fingers of bone and flesh instead of wispy tendrils. She reached over to grasp with her other hand, marveling at the paleness of her skin. The way the blue of her veins coloured in stark contrast to the translucence of fleshy fabric that stretched taut over the knuckles of her bones. The feeling of powdery dust gathering under her nails. She felt... more alive somehow. A different existence from the ephemeral unlife of her recent past. One that she recalled vividly. The crumbling platform, the pale wretched beast. The sensations that she could feel now, was welcome.

Her fingers brushed against something laid by her side. Turning, she found the obsidian haft of her black vessel once more. It looked strangely different, even if she still found its appearance strange in itself.

Finally gathering herself to her feet, she found herself amidst the others. Their names came to her as clearly as it did before, though their now distinguished physical forms were certainly a peculiar sight. Steadying her first few steps with the stave, Brielle struggled to make sense of a void she felt within her mind. There was an aching soreness in her head, an emptiness akin to having something that was unquestionably yours suddenly removed. But try as she might, she could not determine the nature of her affliction. With any fortune, perhaps it would go away and be forgotten. Considering that there wasn't much else to do, and her curiousity piqued by the Goddess' words, she turned to follow in the large steps of the divine being.

Trudging along to the Goddess Nera's invitation, Brielle remained a silent observer to the others around her, though her gaze was drawn time and again to her aged worn surroundings.

 

[seasonedcat]

Kyo seemed to be floating in darkness, not knowing where she was. All she could see was an inky blackness that stretched infinitely. She seemed to be lost, not knowing her way until her gaze caught a ball of light. With an outstretched hand, she reached out and touched the cool surface of the ball. Suddenly she found herself in one of her own memories. However, there was something about this memory that made it different from the ones she had seen before. No sick or ill feeling came with this one. Was this before her illness?

Kyo's question was answered as she saw her old self, eye patch free and looking healthy as any other person. The memory of herself was resting in a small hay bed that was only millimetres off the dirt floor. Shou walked into the room she was resting in with a wide smile across his tanned face. As soon as she laid eyes on him the name of this boy came easily to her thoughts despite not knowing him.

Shou crouched down and began poking Kyo, waking her from her slumber. "Gha...?" Kyo opened her eyes to see her friend smiling down at her, "What the hell are you doing here? Are you trying to get killed?" Kyo asked annoyed as she sat up smacking the boy on the arm. "Ouch! Hey, hey calm down geeze! I came here because you got to see this!" "See what?" "Ok, ok! So I was transporting boxes, right. But, when I placed down the box I saw there were peaches in there! Ya, Peaches! Can you believe it! So, since I know he wouldn't miss a few a decided to... relieve him from some!"

"You stole from the master!" "Yes, geeze, keep it down." Shou shushed her while showing her four peaches he had in his coat, "You act like you expected better of me." He chuckled as he pulled her up, "Come on." "Fine." the two of them snuck out of the barn and made their way into one of the fields. They laughed as they plopped down on the dirt, looking at the stars. Shou handed her two of the fruits, Kyo taking them carefully in her hands.

Kyo took a big bite out of it, the new flavour filling her mouth. "Oly' Sht'!" she mumbled through a full mouth. "I know right?" Shou laughed as he began working on his own snack. After the two of them devoured the fruit in moments they fell back on the dirt and looked up at the clear sky. "I wish it could just be this... no Master to force us to work, no dirty barns to sleep in, peaches for breakfast and lunch and dinner!" Kyo whispered longingly.

"Soon it will be! One day I will save up enough money and I will free both of us! We can live together in a huge mansion, eat peaches every day, and watch the stars! I promise you!" "Alright, It's a deal!" Kyo smiled brightly at him before jumping up. "Let's get back before we get caught, k?" she said offering him a hand, "K'." he smiled as he took the hand and stood up. "Race you there!" Kyo yelled before taking off, laughing at his angry yells at her head start.
---
Kyo was brought out of her memory by the familiar feeling of her demon weapon being near. Her mood turned disgusted as she heard it's voice in the darkness of her conciseness. It asked for her memory. The weapon asked her for her memory. Kyo's insides twisted in rage, "Begon you disgusting creature, you won't get anything from me ever again!" with her angry burst the blackness began to fade away and she was brought back into her body.

Kyo let out a light groan, her body not feeling in pain anymore, but still a tad stiff. She opened her eyes and winced at the light. Where on earth was she, and what exactly was that memory. Who was this Shou that she seemed to know the name of? It made her head swim with confusion when she tried to put it all together so she just left it. It required less energy that way anyway. Rubbing her temples she sat up and looked around noticing her allies also waking up.

She remained sitting, not wanting to get up when she suddenly heard sounds behind her. She glanced behind her, noticing the goddess standing behind them. Of course, this meant she had to stand up. Kyo let out a tired sigh before standing up along with her fellow whisps. She stayed near the back, not bothering to try and keep any real pace with the others, and just walked slowly. She hoped that this was worth her walking because she really just wanted to sleep right now.

 

[Euclid Leaf]

...

As Niatiel spoke to Kietlav, a familiar face popped up from behind. "You speak about me is if I am dead."

She was like a dancer. Long wavy pink hair flowed as Vystari pounced up from around a broken pillar off the side, the messy peachy streams barely held together by a series of large metal rings. She approached on her tip-toes and ending with a hop, as if performing a tiny jeté. The tall young woman greeted Niatiel with a slight pout before breaking into a warm smile. She opened her arms and clasped the smaller girl in between, holding her tight. Vystari practically hummed in joy when she spoke.

"I missed you...! For a moment, I was just drifting somewhere. I'm not sure where... I felt nothing... I didn't even know for how long... I think I was dead. But then I felt it. A light that lead me back from that awful dream. I knew it had to be yours. And I awoke here." her arms tightened and her humming grew soft and trilling, "Thank you, I owe you everything..."

It seemed like she was going to remain like this forever, clutching onto the little girl. But realizing where she was, she let go and glanced over then, pink eyes turning purple in the reddened light that emanated from the dark sun above. Still, even while addressing another, Vystari did not release her tight clutch on Niatiel. At least a hand.

"Ah... Sorry, it wasn't my intention to ignore you, fellow fated-bound. I didn't really know what happened... But if Niatiel says that you had a hand in saving my life... I'm sure it to be true. Thank you, Kietlav. I hope I can repay the favor in the future."

She held out her last hand, hoping he would take it.
"I don't know about you, but where I'm from... this is a sign of good will. I think? Haha... these memories... they are so vague sometimes. But I remember a bit, yes. I hope we can be friends."
But before anything else can happened between the two, a growl sounded from the side.

"You smile a lot for someone who doesn't deserve to be alive." called a familiar disgruntled voice.

A long pair of sharp, jagged horns stretched out from the shadows, followed by a lanky, hunched form. He looked savage given a physical body, one that reflected his own disposition. His animalistic features, the long deer-like ears, curling tail, and strange horns suggested a distinction in species. It almost seemed similar to Niatiel, in fact, but may be something else entirely. Even further were the blotched-like tattoos marred his body, practically covering him. Actually, one could say they were more like scars. Dwynn stood at least a head or two over the others, and looked admittedly a little silly in his undersized white robe.

He sighed, slipping his arms through the sleeves and allowing it to fall around his waist in a more natural manner.
By his side was a gnarled spear that clutched to him. And he to it. The weapon seemed to share his resentment, eyes staring at Vystari with hatred and intent.

"Friends? What are you, a child? We are here to fight and kill. There is no room for friendship."
Vystari seemed infuriated by his comment, stepping forward. "Just because you don't feel gratitude, doesn't mean I don't. Besides, aren't you happy you're even alive? Seeing as you are now, I wouldn't have tried to revive you. Ungrateful."

Dwynn did not seem worried in her advances, merely glancing to the side. "Did you honestly think waving around little sword is enough to prove you are worthy? That thing you faced was nothing. Absolutely not. There is far worse to come. This chance to change fate itself is not for the light-hearted. You know nothing. Sing and laugh with your little friend. See how far it gets you."

Suddenly, like a flash, an edge whipped into the air, catching silver in the red light. Her weapon materialized in her fingertips, Vystari's eyes now narrowed in anger. The tip of the silvered shard nearly touched his neck in the split second.
Her voice was cold as the steel that currently bridged the two fated-bound. "Say anything more, and I'll show you how wrong you are about my 'sword waving'."

Dwynn's eyes narrowed. "Hmph."

The air seemed to crack between the two opposing sides, practically whipping up a gust from the sheer emotional energy. Dwynn stood motionless at the threat to his life, standing there with a blank expression as he always did. But then, something unusual happened. For once, he made something of a smile. The edges of his mouth pushed upwards somewhat. Just for a bit. It was almost like it didn't even exist.

"Perhaps I was wrong, after all." he said, pushing the blade away from his jugular. His cold crimson eyes met with Niatiel's for a slight fraction of a second, before Dwynn turned away and continued forward. "But as for your friend, I wonder if she will have the courage to do what it takes."

His blackish tail flicked behind, curling and uncurling with each step. Perhaps he was thinking of something. But he spoke no more.

...

The Goddess did not interrupt the near-fight that might have broken out between the two wisps. In fact, they didn't even lift their eyes. Maybe they were used to this sort of thing. Or maybe, they already knew the outcome and didn't want to bother. The Goddess, Nera, seemed more focused on the task at hand, carrying the corpse in ceremonial fashion down the listless halls of this ancient, mysterious place. They even allowed Harmony to gaze upon the dried husk, as unsightly as it was.

They gave the woman a smile, shaking their head. "Worry not. This is not who you think it is. But is cute, is it not? It is almost like... a small baby."

Of all the stone and carvings, there was nothing familiar to the wisps-no-more. But one stood out. It repeated often. A white swirling symbol with an opened eye.

The winding path bore downwards, spiraling until they reached to a lower level. It was a massive structure, one that seemed lofty for even the giant of a woman, but even greater for the ones who followed behind. At least, attempted so. Then, it lead to a cross-way that jutted this way and that, splitting out in five directions. On either side, there were sealed metal doors covered in chains and flanked by statues of armored warriors. One was marked with a symbol resembling a flame, while the other with one that could only be described as 'a dripping horizon'. And one of the paths merely ended in a collapsed entryway. Thus, the Goddess continued inhibited upon the middle path that lead further into the impressive, grand stonework. They passed by the carved pillars until they closed up and they were inside a narrower space. The red light was long behind them, at this point.

It appeared she would remain quiet for the remainder of the journey. But Irosane's words stirred a strong response from her.

“At least you have the compassion to ask us, rather than throwing us to the beasts and allowing us to suffer alone. The dead’s misfortune is of no fault but your own. And now they will never know why their souls were to be sacrificed in such a vicious manner. Where will their explanation be? In the pit of torment you’ve sentenced them to in their apparent second demise? No, for just as we have questions, so too will they as their souls drift aimlessly through the void.”

Her voice echoed loud in the halls, which now flickered alive as torches began to light up around them. The flames seemed to shudder quiet. As though afraid.

"Nothing is self-expressed, my dear child. Especially not something as precious as a soul. Even a God cannot make from nothing, unfortunate as it is. Even the greatest of us do not possess that kind of power. Miracles are made through sacrifice. Always." she turned her head slowly, glancing back at Irosane. "And knowing that, how much do you think I sacrificed to beckon you here from the distant void that swallowed your lost souls? It is unspeakable, the things that one must endure in order to travel to that place beyond life and death."

Though her tone sounded a bit harsh, she continued on with her usual tenderness. "But I will do so again, and again. For you, my little ones. And for the future of this world."

With those closing words, she stopped suddenly. She stared forward into the dark. It looked like she was peering at nothing. Not even the lights of the torches illuminated far enough to reveal exactly what it was that was hidden in the dark. But eventually, a white line divided the darkness. A creak and push spread the line wider until the vague shape of a towering doorway can be made out being held apart by the blinding rays. Even by The Goddess' standards, it was large. Slowly, the pair of doors slide inwards into the side of the structure, kicking up dust and light alike until they were standing bare to the elements before them.

They appeared to be outside now, but no crimson-eyed sun came to meet them. Instead, it was a clouded, dark skyline. It was pitch black far above. Actually, the sole source of the vast light was a familiar pale flora. A sea of pale flowers glowed and shimmered before the party, gleaming as though a gust of wind had rolled over them. But there was no such wind.

It was a dream-like place. And it seemed the Goddess allowed the party to take in the sight as she bowed her head in prayer. For a moment, a whisper can be heard, a chorus of silent conversations rushing overhead. These faint echoes carried onward above them. It seemed like a blender of audio caught throughout the untold ages, like a song played atop itself over and over again. A series of laughs, words, and sentences flowed into itself until it sounded garbled. With only sparing recognizable bits. This enigma continued until they faded as quickly as they came. Soon, It was silent again.

Then, The Goddess, Nera, turned and spoke. Her eyes shone in the pale light. And for the first time, one can see that they were pitch black. Absorbing everything, yet radiating all the same.

"We are here. The Courtyard of Memories."

...

 

[Juju]

At the sound of the familiar voice, Niatiel stopped in her tracks. She whipped around so fast she dropped the lengths of robes she had been carrying. They fell to the ground with an airy fwoosh, stirring a small cloud of dust beneath her bare feet.

"Vystari!?" Nia exclaimed in disbelief. Was this a dream? Had the essence worked after all? As her eyes fell upon her friend they filled with tears, but for once they were not of sadness but of sheer joy.

She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, only look at the new, yet strikingly familiar Vystari with wide golden eyes. "You... you're..." She sputtered before quickly being enveloped in a hug.

Beneath her robes, she could hear the woman's steady heartbeat. She closed her eyes and smiled, savouring every second as if it were going to be snatched away at any moment. Fresh, warm tears sunk into Vystari's cloak as Niatiel nuzzled her head against her, accidentally poking her a few times with her small antlers. While it was hard to see due to the loose folds, there was even something wiggling under her cloak, just above the back of her legs.

"Nonono! You don't owe me anything, Vystari!" Nia said, looking up sheepishly, "You being alive is enough!"

While Vystari talked with Kietlav she continued to cling onto Vystari, as if letting her go would somehow make her disappear. She leaned her head against the woman, beaming with a glow of happiness. At least, until a shadow approached.

Niatiel knew him to be Dwynn immediately, his barbed words a dead give away. She shrunk behind Vystari a bit, eyebrows raised in a look of worry. His appearance was quite similar to her own, she noticed, though strikingly different. As if cut from the same fabric yet with different stitching, one rough-hewn while the other delicate. As she gazed up in admiration of his impressive horns she brought a hand up to touch her own. They were small, about as long as her hand and ended with dull points, unlike Dwynn's jagged ones. Did he sharpen them?

At his harsh words about friendship, Niatiel flinched slightly. She couldn't understand why he was so upset. Had she done something wrong? "No, don't fight..." she tried to plead when Vystari snapped back at him. Things only got worse, and even worse when Vystari drew her blade on Dwynn. Nia could only watch with wide eyes, looking at the sharp edge of the blade pressed to Dwynn's neck. She was terrified, but he looked as calm as ever. She could imagine so many things would happen, but what she never expected was Dwynn to...smile? Or at least she thought he did.

Nia breathed a sigh of relief when the aggression dissipated but quickly tensed up again when Dwynn glared at her. She broke under his gaze and stared at the ground in shame. As they followed after the goddess his words were all she could think of.

While they walked, Nia tried to summon her dagger as Vystari had done. At her call it flickered into her hand, its blade still shattered. It was nothing but a hilt now. She looked at it sadly, tilting it in her hand to eye what was left of the beautiful blade. What had Dwynn meant by 'do what it takes'? If it was for her friends she'd do anything! She felt a prickle of frustration, gripping her dagger tightly. It didn't take long for it to burn-out into sadness and she let the silvered weapon fade away in a scatter of silver sparks. He probably just thought she was weak, which wasn't wrong...but she wasn't useless! Even if she didn't have a weapon anymore, she was determined to keep fighting for her friends, and for this world. Somehow...

Her mood improved significantly as soon as she saw the glowing flowers. "Look, Vystari!" she said, excitedly pointing to them with one hand and tugging on her robes with the other. Although she wanted to run into the field and lay in the flowers, she didn't want to be rude. Nera looked to be praying, and Nia could hear something. Was it answering her? It started out as a low hum, but when she listened carefully she could make out countless voices all talking at once. Some sang, some whispered, and others shouted. Then, all at once, they went quiet.

"What memories?" Nia asked, then paused with a soft frown. "I mean... whose?"

 

[Lekiel]

It was considerably difficult to brood about the inexplicable loss she felt within the recesses of her mind when she had to jog just to keep up with the relatively long strides of Nera. She knew she wasn't particularly short, by any means, at least not from the where she had hailed from. But nonetheless, she knew she'd have to get reacquainted with different sights sooner rather than later. Her fellow wisps for one, looked Kal`Borian for the most part, if she could exclude the antlered waif. But even so, something within her was keenly aware that even Irosane, Kietlav and Harmony would not call themselves Kal`Borian. A marvelous vexation this was, to have memories and familiarities hovering just beneath the surface of the nebulous clouds of obscurity. To almost touch it with a figment of thought. A name, a feeling a place, perched on the tip of the tongue as you could've sworn it was there. And you were so close, thinking you had it in your grasp only to realize that the gap that separated had stopped you short by barely a minute distance. And just like that, your fragile hold on it was lost, and it would disappear back into the darkness again.

Like chasing the Kraal Serpents beneath the thick icy floes on the lakes of the Northern Reaches...

Brielle started, shaking herself awake from visions of distant snow-capped mountains and the crunch of shifting ice under her feet. No meaning, no warning. Just a specter of a forgotten time, coalescing just enough to taunt her with a caress of frigid winds against her face. It was then that the lilting intonations of voices caught her attention. Turning back to the sound of a commotion, what she saw caused her to falter in her step.

Dwynn... and... Vystari? Alive..? how?

The confusion upon her face was stolen away as a flash of something dark twisted her countenance at the sight of the two. How could... Then she remembered. From when their tragic judge had breathed its last, right before she had fallen into her stupor. An effulgent light had departed from both Niatiel and Harmony from where they cradled their lost 'friends'. A silvery twist of ethereal chains had formed. Fleeting. It was the exact same moment she had suddenly felt stronger.

Had they given up what they had gained to raise the lost? The thought brought with it a flush of incoherent rage that threatened to bubble out of her chest with the snap of a vile curse. How dare they give up what was so harrowingly earned for the sake of their short-sightedness!? Were they so weak such that they could not bear the burden of loss? It surely rendered the sacrifices that were made for them all to earn just that little bit more of strength futile. Wasn't the fact that they were all not strong enough to quickly overcome their foe that resulted in the loss of their two companions? To so freely give away to satiate their selfish need for nobility, when to grow would mean they may just as well not have to make that sacrifice for even more. They did not deserve-!

For the second time in a short-span of time, Brielle had to halt her thoughts, more startled by the intensity of her fury than the darkness of her mind. What was it that had triggered such a reaction? Her head throbbed with the pulse of her lifeblood, and she closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down. Turning back for one last look as Vystari pointed her shard at Dwynn, Brielle turned on her heel and hurried to catch up with Nera.

~✤~​

Perhaps. . . she might find some answers here.

She gazed upon the garden as the Goddess revealed to them the name of the place. The pellucid blooms from before were again present in this courtyard, illuminating the darkness with a pale radiance lending the place a dream-like glow. Teasing lilts of laughter and murmurings of undecipherable voices filled the backdrop, like the song of creatures of the forest; but they grew silent before long.

"Will I find what I lost... here?" She'd spoken her thoughts aloud, not realizing that Niatiel had asked a question.


OOC: Sorry for the rambler of a post. I was/am seriously stuck as to what to write.. so... I chose the Rambler class.

 

[SirDerpingtonIV]

Kietlav gave a simple nod to the horned one as she caught up with him. The warrior turned his cold gaze ahead, unflinching as he marched on through the halls, as if not truly there in the moment. He did not turn to look at her, and so missed any looks she gave him as he walked on. Perhaps if he had remembered anything, he would have thought, but with his mind so empty, Kietlav thought only of snow. An endless, white blizzard that blocked all sight and sound. White noise, simply, something to obscure his thoughts and keep him busy marching. Eventually, Niatiel gave an expression of gratittude, and Kietlav glanced to her with a nod and a quiet "I leave no one behind."

Kietlav marched on in silence for a minute or two, before Niatiel spoke his name. He turned to look at her as he made his way along. He merely shook his head in response, pausing a moment before he spoke. "Don't thank me. As I said, I leave no one behind. In the... memories that I have seen, I have failed too many people before. With... whatever this new life is, I shall not repeat those mistakes. You are, all of you, valuable." Kietlav spoke briskly, but with sincerity, and continued walking, until she admitted she had been worried about his possible death, and for a long time he had no words, until he replied with a short "Thanks for saving me."

Eventually Vystari returned, and Keitlav greeted her with a brisk nod. He did not truly mean to be unwelcoming to conversation, but his mind so occupied in memory, he could hardly focus on the here and now. He was busy trying to puzzle out his past, the... villainous warlocks he had fought. Were they the Foe that burned his city, killed his family, and him? The soldiers he had fought aside, what had happened to them? And in his final moments, why did he feel such overwhelming shame and failure? Those memories played over and over in his mind, to the point where he could barely pay attention to anything. Snow, blood, and steel.

Eventually, Kietlav's attention was drawn back to the here and now when Vystari drew steel against Dwynn. Kietlav tensed, fingers curling into fists as he watched the two of them, before the matter resolved, the blade disappearing and the two stepping back from one another. Kietlav knew not who started it, and truthfully, didn't particularly care. It wasn't his job to cease simple arguing, just to keep them alive. To protect them, as he had failed to protect his family and city before.

Kietlav walked along behind the Goddess, until eventually, the lengthy hallway came to an end, and they found themselves in a large open space. It seemed almost a garden beneath a foggy, black sky. Light was provided only by glowing flora, which Kietlav paid little heed to. He followed the Goddess's steps, until he found himself in the center of the place, hearing the voices that ran in currents around him like flowing water. But just as he truly tried to listen, they went silent. The others had questions to ask of this place, and they would recieve answers. Kietlav figured he could ask nothing that had not been asked, so he turned upon his heels and strode off to the side.

The soldier looked about the room, for anything to examine, to listen to. If this was a place of memories, perhaps he would find the answers he sought. The elusive truth, on his own past. Finding little he immediately recognized as useful, he turned back around, setting his gaze on the Goddess, taking a moment to note the strange nature of her eyes. "My people, in the lands of Roskarov. What can this place tell me of them? What can it tell me of the Warlocks, the Kaboryus?" Kietlav spoke that final word with evident and readily apparent distaste in his voice. He did not remember even what they truly were, but he remembered the feeling, the cold, icy hate he held for them. He remembered that hate as strongly as he remembered his love for his home, his family. He would want answers.

 

[Euclid Leaf]

...

The Goddess looked forward at the glistening garden, humming at the questions.

"Memories... Why, these are our memories, dear child." she whispered to Niatiel.

There was a tinge of sadness in her tired, waning voice as giant woman pointed forward, cradling the curled husk over her shoulder like a sleeping child. The black shard at the tip of her finger lined unto what seemed to be a distant shape. Not much unlike the bushels of pale flowers that numbered in the enumerable. But staring closer, you can make out the faint shapes in the blistering light of the garden's residents. Ones different than the tangled flora that surrounds them. But it was still not clear enough. As though sensing the confusion, The Goddess immediately bound forward towards one of them. Her flowing white dress, ancient and tattered at the seams, yet somehow whole, draped and dragged across the tips of the pale flowers. The edges flicked them and causing sprays of fresh water, which bloomed behind her and to each of your steps. Yet when the droplets would've, and should have, touched you, they vanished upon contact. It was as if they were not real. Despite this, you are able to see that the frills on Goddess' white dress was getting damp. Somehow.

Turning her head, she looked down at Kietlav, addressing his burning hatred. "Roskarov... That place... lost to the snow. Unfortunately, I do not have the pleasure of travelling freely from my realm. I have not seen it myself, but I heard it was a beautiful place. A shame. The lives lost. There are many places that share a similar tale. The hopelessness of the Eclipse. The ruin of the old worlds was not because of a single entity... They take many names. Many forms. Perhaps they are what you speak of. In which case... I can promise that you will meet with them again. At which point, what you do will be your own choice. My little one."

"Don't you think these flowers... don't they remind you of the Wolf Judge...? A pity he would never see them again..." Vystari would say, while passing through the garden, but nothing more. It seemed she was taken by the sight of it all, her eyes shining with wonder and amazement. But also a bit of sorrow.

"Yes, he would've like to see them again. This place was very special to him..." The Goddess would reply, overhearing the statement.
"But we all have a purpose. One we cannot stray from. And his was to empower you, through offering up his own spirit. The Reborn. The Reinvigorated. The Chosen. So do not feel as if you have taken a life for granted. For anything, feel blessed to have freed him. For without this purpose, he would've wilted away anyway."

Eventually, there was no question. What she pointed out were markers. Resting places, indeed. Suddenly, the reason she hauled around a corpse made more sense. Gravestones propped up sparingly in the vastness, edging further and further into the white horizon. It seemed even the edges of this grand garden were lined with these signifying stones. The party stood at one now, but there was another not so far away, and another. And just from a glance you can see hundreds, maybe even thousands scattered throughout this dreamscape.

There, they arrive at a freshly dug gravesite, the ditch ready to be occupied by a body and a blank stone slab heading the space. Beautifully carved. There was a figure there, a hunched little thing covered by a pale rag and bearing a small shovel. No doubt it was the one responsible for making the hole. But upon seeing all of you approaching, it quickly scampers away, disappearing into the patches of wild flowers.

"My, and there it goes." she says, giggling, her more natural, cheerful demeanor surfacing once more. "They are my servants... souls who sought refuge from the cataclysm, but were unable to prove themselves worthy of judgement... They are very shy."

Stepping up to the edge, the hole created was unsurprisingly empty. And so the Goddess would make the grave whole. Placing the body into the crevice, she would clasp her hands in prayer. For a moment there was pure silence. But suddenly, there was a whisper. A distant call. The faint chorus of the garden would respond to her with a soft melody. The glowing flowers surrounding bloomed in light and white roots sprouted from the sides, spreading the dirt yet filling it all at once. The corpse would be consumed by the mound of wood and sinew.

Then, with her fingers, she etched a name.

"Mordred"

The Goddess stared at the name for some time. Before speaking again, whispering softly.

"May you find rest in our dreams, dear child..."

...

 

[The Suspicious Eye]

Harmony trailed alongside the goddess trying her best to keep up with the long gate of the statuesque woman. Looking up at the goddess with expectant eyes, Harmony was like a small duckling following her parent wherever they lead. Hearing the growing commotion behind her, Harmony would have been curious, but she was far more determined to find out if her worries were true.

Perking up as the Goddess looked down at her Harmony sped up to take a good look at the figure the Goddess showed her. It was a withered and dark, almost crumbling mass, it's body unrecognizable to Harmony. The light of hope in her face fading at the strange mass she cocked her head as she inspected the form. "I don't really know what a baby should look like, I mean we're all small compared to you. You're huge, in the good way. I'm no judge on cute, but If you think it's cute that's fine by me." Tilting her head she leaned in a bit closer trying to pick out any recognizable features. As soon as something seemed to peak out to her, the figure was brought back to the Goddess's embrace.

Looking up at the Goddess she noticed the repeating swirling eye symbols around her and shuddered at the feeling of being watched. Averting their gaze as best she could she looked out at the lower level structure. Stepping closer to the Goddess she trailed behind her as they entered the narrow space, there was something mystical and terrifying about this place. Looking back to the others Harmony thought she caught a glimpse of Dwynn in the background. Craning her neck she tried to make it out as she walked only to miss her footing and slip down a few steps.

Catching herself before she tumbled further down she got up to hear Irosane speak up. Dusting herself off she looked up to meet the Goddess's face as she seemed to hold pain and anger in her words. I wonder what she did give up? Continuing her steady pace yet again following the motherly Goddess into the dimly lit mystery, the halls reminding Harmony of her vivid dream and that strange figure that came to her. Goosebumps ran across her new soft skin, rubbing them away she stepped into the large doors of the unknown room.

The rush of wind tossed up her black and white hair, the whispers of what was once there danced past her as she wandered further into the strange place. The Goddess called it the Courtyard of Memories, "Memories, huh?" Harmony couldn't help but be curious about what memories lay here and whose?

Looking up the sky overhead was overcast, the clouds churning with the wind. Spinning around to follow the strange wind, she stopped and looked at the others and noticed Dwynn step inside. "Dwynn?"

Not thinking about anything else she charged at him and swung her fist right at his face. "You jerk!" Looking at him with a joyful glare she added. "if you die again, I won't drag your torso around!" Giving him a smile she couldn't help but show her joy and relief in seeing Dwynnn alive.


Recovering from seeing Dwynn alive she looked over to the giant Goddess as she moved to the center of the area. Noticing the sadness in her voice Harmony felt just a fraction of that pain that nearly brought tears to her eyes. Running her hand through her hair she subtly brushed the tears forming in her eyes. Following the direction the Goddess was pointing to, Harmony's eyes rested on a strange shape. Stepping further and focusing on the dark shape it seemed to be forming into something Harmony just quite couldn't see. Tilting her head she squinted leaning in to get a better look. Only to jolt back as the Goddess gracefully lept toward the shapes.

Harmony stumbled back from the sudden movement, as she recovered she noticed droplets of water come to her she raised her arms to block the spray only to feel...nothing. Slowly lowering her arms back to her side she looked over to the Goddess again with more confusion on her face than before. As Kietlav began to question the Goddess on his home Harmony twisted her head trying to register all the information swirling all around her. As more conversations came um Harmony's brain was overloaded with attempting to make empty connections from the scraps she could gather. As the other continued to follow the Goddess Harmony stood confused trying to piece out all that was being brought up. Roskar-what? What wizards? Old world and realms? I thought I was dead, though now I don't feel dead? Offering their spirit? The Chosen? We freed that monster? Is that a good thing? I mean he did kill Dwynn and almost everyone else, but I mean we're not dead? Wait...What servants? Giving up she shook her head and let out a loud grown. "This is all too much!! I don't get what's going on!"

Storming over to the Goddess and the others she came closer to where they all stood as she let out an exasperated huff. As the scene of a grave and gravestone revealed itself to her she stopped and let out a solemn "oh."

Looking over to the withered body she finally made the connection of why they were here. "Oh..." Clearing her throat she stood beside the others as they surrounded the grave. Watching the Goddess scrape in Mordred's name. Shock ran through her as she looked around and realized that Mordred wasn't with them. Turning to face the resting mound of where Mordred was. Her shoulders fell as she gave her solemn remembrance for Mordred. Holding her hands together in front of her she stood solemnly as the others mourned their friend.

 

[seasonedcat]

Kyo walked with the others, not bothering to look at her surroundings and just stared at her feet. Guilt and disgust still ate away at her as she walked alone slowly, not bothering to talk to the others around her. She still felt responsible for the deaths of the allies that weren't alongside them at this moment. If she was only stronger... if she only hadn't let herself get corrupted by her stupid scythe, maybe, just maybe they would be alive right now.

Kyo froze in her step at the sound of voices behind her. Her breath caught in her throat. She turned around quickly with a wide eye and glance at the two people behind her she thought were dead. She covered her mouth with her hand. Dwynn and Vystari. What the fuck. She thought they were dead. She thought-. Oh god. Tears fell down her cheek. They laughed and joked around with Nia and Kietlav. They were real and breathing. They weren't dead.

Kyo felt like she couldn't breathe. This was really happening. Harmony ran over to Dwynn, this was really happening oh god... Kyo's chest felt so light. She laughed lightly. They were alive. They weren't dead. She didn't kill them. They were ok. She felt like she could fly from how happy she felt at this moment. She didn't bother listening to what the goddess was saying, she was too happy. She turned around, away from them in hopes to hide her tears.

She whipped her eyes as a smile spread on her face. They were ok, everything was ok. She began listening to Goddess, for the first time feeling like she had some energy in her body. Her smile quickly faded as the beast from earlier was mentioned. Rage wormed it's way into her chest causing her to shiver. She knew it was the scythe's doing, it had to be. Or, most of it at least. She hated how she felt as if it didn't matter. That she didn't care that it liked this place or that it knew it was going to die. It scared her that she didn't care.

But that wasn't as bad as what came next. The name the Goddess carved into the stone brought everything in her body down. She turned around in horror, covering her mouth as she began to sob. This was her fault. She didn't even notice him missing, how could she not notice? She should have been there. She should have been helping them. This was all her fault, his death was on her hands. Kyo let out a quiet sob, not daring to look at the thing in Nera's arms.

 

[Juju]

"Ours...?" Nia mumbled, a small look of worry passing over her face. "A-are they bad?"

If they were anything like the dream she had, Nia did not want to hear them. Even now she could still see the rotten faces, how their skin slumped from their bones and their cawing of Godwoken. What did it mean? Why? She realized she was shivering and could feel a whimper growing in her throat. It was only a dream, she told herself, dreams can't hurt you.

Nia rubbed her eye with a fist, as if that could help clear things up, and when she opened it again she caught a glimpse of something in the flowers. Was that a person? She watched the goddess run towards the figure and as Nia followed she could see there were others like it, scattered throughout the garden. The goddess was so fast and so tall that dew from the flowers sprung around her like rain. As the droplets sprayed Nia she pulled her hands up to shield her face yet was surprised to find that she felt nothing. The goddess's dress was getting wet though. Nia frowned and looked down at her own robes, still perfectly dry. It was like they were not real. What about the flowers?

Deciding to test it out, Nia reached out and plucked one of the blooms. She held it up to her eyes. It seemed real enough. Nia blinked when Vystari commented on the similarity of the garden's flowers and those they had seen in the Judge's lair. They did remind her of the wolf, she realized with a wave of sadness. It worsened when she learned how precious they were to him. Nia looked up at the goddess as she spoke of the judge, interested to learn more.

So the rush of power she had felt was a part of his soul? It was his sacrifice that had brought back Vystari. She may have only seen a glimpse, but she knew they were not the same thing that attacked them so viciously. She would never blame him for it. The goddess said it was his purpose, but why? Why was he not a 'chosen'? Why did he become twisted and pained? There were so many questions rattling around in her mind that she didn't even realize they had stopped until she walked into Irosane. He had a different form but she recognized him quicker than the others. Somehow.

"Sorry, sorry!" Nia said sheepishly while stumbling back. Once she regained her bearings she noticed that they were all standing in front of an empty grave. It all made sense now, though Nia wished she didn't have to know. "Oh... it's a..." she tried to find the right word for it. "Grave..." It was indeed a garden, but one of bones.

She watched the flowers grow from it after the body had been planted, but she didn't find the same amount of wonder she once had. It was beautiful beyond words, yet sad. It became tragic when she read the name that had been scratched into the stone and she felt her stomach drop. Mordred?

No. This couldn't be happening. This was wrong, so very wrong, and yet it felt as if it was supposed to happen. That's what terrified her. It felt as if Mordred's leaving had taken something with him, a chip of herself, and yet in spite of the gaping emptiness she could feel a small sliver of apathy to it. Like she had seen it before.

Mordred... she had known him and yet she had not. Almost solid images tried to form in her mind, a tired arm resting on a bloody sword, a hand reaching down to ruffle hair. She tried to grasp them but the shadows of memories clumped and faded just out of reach, leaving her feeling lost in what should be her own mind. Something valuable had been stolen yet she did not know what. Could you miss something you have never known? It felt like she was still a newborn wisp.

Nia crouched down with knees pulled up tightly against her chest and her head buried into her arms, bluish hair falling down over them. Tears, confused in their sorrow, traced silently down her hidden face. She didn't weep or sob like Kyo, though she was shaking and would occasionally sniffle. In her hand, she was still tightly clutching the flower she had picked.