A Foreboding Madness
Chapter 1
Death Foretold
“Death is a calm, patient man waiting for you at the end of the path. In his hands are the tools of Fate that tie you to the path and on his face, an amiable smile. There is no need to fear death for He has a welcoming embrace."
~
Alistair woke up at his auburn desk as he had been for the last few nights. On it were several sheets of blueprints for various buildings that the city he has been tasked with making. They include places such as libraries and laboratories. Under the desk are other sheets of blueprints he has folded up and works on in his spare time.
“Ugh, can’t believe I slept and drooled on my work...” He groans as he gets up and cleans up his workspace. After tidying up his workspace, he then went to wash himself off. Today was going to be a day away from work for him as he has to attend the unexpected funeral of his father.
He dresses up in a simple, black outfit and just folds up a red handkerchief to bring for later. He then looked into the mirror and groomed himself away from his usual messy self.
His adequately long, charcoal hair had been neatly combed to the back and tied into a short ponytail. Alistair rubbed his hand along his chin, feeling the slight stubble before leaving it alone. In any case, he never planned to dress too nicely for this funeral ceremony anyway.
He never did have much of a connection with his father due to how little he saw him. That man had always worked himself tirelessly from day to night, moving from town to town. As a priest, he had always thought that helping others through the grace of God was his calling but look where God's mercy got him.
"I get why Mother loves him but couldn't he have made more time for her?" Alistair asked randomly while locking the door behind him. He pats himself down to account for all of his belongings before beginning his walk to the cathedral.
The street was bustling with activity as vendors were trying to sell him some food, appliances, or some kind of mysterious trinkets. Typically, those last ones are scams but occasionally one could find hidden treasures amongst the heap of trash that is the common marketplace. Indeed, this was one of the reasons behind his choice of residence. However, this was not the time for casual shopping.
Once past the marketplace and carriage-filled highway, he reached the cathedral situated dead center of the city. The cathedral entrance stood 3.5m tall and above it was a sculpture of the Goddess of Harvest, Scoleo. The sculpture was connected to the cathedral by her wavy hair so her face turned upwards. Strangely, her eyes were absent and out of her nose, mouth, and ears grew trees bearing fruits and leaves.
That empty stare into the sky and oddly grotesque image of the goddess inspired a sense of unease within Alistair's mind. He took another long look at it and made connections of her depicted image to creatures that dwell deep within dark forests or people cursed with foul magics.
When he entered the cathedral, he was greeted with the immediate scent of lilacs and the sight of over a hundred heads all seated down in rows of ten. The mood all around was one of loss and tragedy but all the fellow priests present who knew of his father accentuated joy and zealous excitement.
Moving past the whispering attendees and light rays permeating the cathedral through intricate glass murals at the sides, Alistair took his seat at the edge of the frontmost row. From here, all he could see would be the elevated stage located below the Altar of Scoleo and a sole exquisitely crafted wooden lectern atop it. Soon, the funeral ceremony would commence.
~
"Dinggg, dinggg"
With the chiming of the bell, Alistair stopped chatting with the man behind him and turned to face the front. There, on the stage behind the lectern, stood a pale man in a full black suit not unfamiliar to his eyes. His face and hands were the only exposed feature from where Alistair sat down. With sunken cheeks and eyes half-closed as if he was deprived of sleep, he began his speech.
"Marcus was a great man who served a greater purpose. He spread the word and preachings of Scoleo far and wide from this very city of Targon to the remote villages located in the valleys of Yrsa."
The man spoke aloud slowly with his mouth making awkwardly big motions for each syllable. His grey teeth were made clear for all to see and the horrid stench that escaped his mouth with each word almost made Alistair gag.
At the same time, Alistair was feeling goosebumps growing on his skin as a morbid sense of dread crawling up his spine. For example, why wasn't the one on stage the archbishop instead? He struggled to get out of his seat but to his shock, he looked down and found that his low body had merged with the chair.
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The chair, seemingly woven up by thick roots, had pierced Alistair's limbs and was growing. Each time the roots tried to force their way past his skin, Alistair felt a rhythmic pulse shaking his vessel. Looking carefully, he could see his skin turning stiff and turning into something similar to the bark of a tree. Slowly, his senses all dulled and all he could do was listen with blurred vision.
"Oh dear, dear Alistair, your father was most faithful, most helpful and I am grateful. For that, an esteemed guest has taken interest in his son, you."
As the sentence came to an end, dark viscous slime started to drip from the ceiling. From the walls sprouted disjointed arms up to the elbow. They were covered in the same slime covering the ceiling. And once the slime had covered the entire cathedral, leaving only the cold, endless darkness, a creature emerged. Were the changes in the surroundings attributed to the appearance of this creature or perhaps vice versa?
The creature vaguely slid its way towards Alistair from a great distance. As it got closer, its features got more defined and frightened Alistair even more. It possessed a vaguely amorphous form with hairs waving around its main body and a caved-in area where Alistair could only assume laid its eyes. However, contrary to expectations that hole seemed to be its mouth as the creature 'spoke' to him.
"Alistair, I have pulled you out here to grant you a bit of knowledge others would only die to obtain. A taste of yourself and a peek at your end."
"When the mountains tremble and the rivers dry,
Giants shall awaken and dragons fly.
And in the crimson ruins will he lie,
Awake in a dream only to die."
Slowly, an emotionless, raspy voice echoed in his mind. It was an unfamiliar tongue not of man, elf, or even beasts but something more otherworldly and primordial. Yet, strangely enough, Alistair knew what every word meant in his heart.
Suddenly, visions of his future flash past his eyes. The cruelty of man and sorcerers alike, hidden underbellies moving about in utter secrecy, and mythical entities hidden away from the world. An unbearable pain filled Alistair's head and all he could do was endure this tsunami of knowledge drilling deep into the recesses of his memory. His stiff body shook violently and finally,
"AAAAAHHHHHH"
A cry filled the space as the bark-like skin covering his face tore apart, exposing his naked face. A release was needed for the pent-up pains from the torture Alistair had withstood up to this point, no matter the method. In barely ten seconds, he had come to learn so much about his tragic future and the actions he would have to take.
His face involuntarily writhed and twisted from the pain and sheer terror as the scenes of his life passed by. From every touch, he felt every tragedy he experienced, to every whisper he heard. Everything, condensed down to a quick summary, brought an indescribable sense of dread within Alistair.
"I will find you again at the end of your journey. I hope you find a way off the path..."
~
"Alistair? Alistair! Are you alright? You looked like you were daydreaming. Must be all that work you do, cooped up in that shack of yours."
A delicate and warm voice brings Alistair back to reality, where he was attending the funeral of his deceased father. It was the voice of his mother who sat beside him in the cathedral. He turned to respond to her calling but all of a sudden, Alistair's screams pierced through the ambient music in the cathedral. Everyone else stopped whatever they were doing and turned to inspect the source of the hysteric screaming.
With a thud, Alistair fell from his seat, his gaze seemed bloodshot yet blank as if he was unaware of his own state of being. His muscles all stiffened up yet his mouth kept moving. However, he stopped screaming and began spewing out jumbled-up words nobody recognized.
"Yytholin! Agh'bon Yytholin ir'syad…"
"Help! He's acting possessed! Is there anyone proficient in healing arts?!" His mother shouted, cradling Alistair's head in her arms.
"Move aside, I've got just the thing," a well-built man walked over with a pouch in his hand. He put down the purse, took over cradling Alistair's head, and swiftly started strangling Alistair to sleep.
"Oh… I guess that works…" Someone in the crowd softly mumbled.
"Come now, we're in the main cathedral of Scoleo in all the lands. Shouldn't be too hard to find a healer." The man said while hoisting Alistair over his back.
The huge cathedral was indeed the grandest church one could find that worshipped the Goddess of Harvest, Scoleo. It towered up to 3 stories high and occupied the area surrounding the Tree of Life. This tree boasted a trunk forty meters wide and a canopy about three hundred meters tall.
The cathedral was split into four sectors surrounding each side of the tree with each sector having different functions. There was the main church where people who worship Scoleo could gather, a school for those interested in the religion, an infirmary, and a small mysterious building that led to the catacombs beneath the city.
And fortunately enough, the main church building was directly connected to the infirmary.
~
"It's been an entire day, what's wrong with him?"
"I… I don't know but our healers are trying their best. He just can't be healed… I'm sorry Arwin"
~
"Alistair, my son, I need you to wake up. Please… I, I don't think I can take another loss. The priests say their magic doesn't work on you but I know. They're lying.
Even as a boy you'd run in here asking to be healed from even the smallest illnesses… You were healed then so why? Why won't they help you just one more time?"
~
Ever since the funeral had been interrupted by Alistair's strange outburst, he had been unconscious and lying in bed in the exact same position for an entire week.
Every day, Alistair's mother would come in to check on her son. She would visit in the morning and with a smile, ask the priest if anything happened while she was gone. Of course, just taking a look at her son's state could give her a rough answer but she just wanted to hope for good news.
She would stay seated beside Alistair and whisper about anything to him in anticipation of a reaction. For each word she spoke, her son would answer with his silence and this further tore at her already tattered heart.
"Hm, I wish you had gotten to know more about your father. You weren't there but he was always thinking about you. Before he got busy with the current famine, he even told me that all of his fortune, should he pass on from this world, be given to you…"
This morning, Alistair's mother had her hand gently stroking along Alistair's face as she talked about the recent past. Her thin fingers glided across his cheek to pick up stray hairs on his face and comb them back before giving him a light kiss on the forehead. Her eyes turned to the window to look at the clear blue sky.
"Well, it's time I left," She said, preparing to stand up.
"Mmph…"
Her ears twitched at the moment she heard a soft noise break the silence of the room. A light reappeared in her eyes once more as her gaze at Alistair intensified. With trembling hands, she grabbed ahold of her son.
"Alistair? Are you there?"
Suddenly, Alistair sat up straight and violently coughed. His mother's hands flew off him from the abrupt force.
"What's going on…?"