“It would seem strange to some that piracy is still so prevalent given the extensive patrols amongst the sea lanes by a multitude of nations. However, the truth of the matter is that there are many competing trade routes interspersed with routes denied to someone or another through politics or war. Diverting attention from the matter of route security. Thus, in outlying islands and islets, many a freebooter has established their own little fiefdom. Some that could even be called upon by more enterprising entrepreneurs to raid opposing shipments.”

- Fleet Commander Knut Gunnarsson, Traxian Office of Naval Affairs, “Public Discourse With Recruits”

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A crack. The world itself adrift in a sea of red. The shudder. From high above, the red sun glared down upon the world. A gasp. Soft winds danced across the land. Pain.

Weak hands flailed at the liquid surrounding it, finding no purchase. A river of crimson streaking down from them. From unconsciousness came sentience, from sentience, awareness. Fear clouded the mind when caught in the unknown, the blessing of comprehension now a curse. A wandering disease that refused to loosen its grip.

Slowly the senses returned. From sight, to sense, now sound. The gentle crashing of waves, the whistling of the wind, the screams in the distance. Gut wrenching howls, bloodthirsty cries. Anguish, despair, rage, emotions cast into a maelstrom, the unavoidable truth made manifest. A fire that cannot burn down.

Where one could only crawl, pulling oneself forward with extraordinary effort. Defiance, a challenge against thy fate. Yet, nearby stood chaos. Where one fought for even a single step, it ran, like a wild hound let loose, unfettered, unbothered. A monster hunting all that appeared before it, a swarm intent on devouring the world.

Then came the bitterness, the chalky iron that refused to leave, that infiltrated every pore, every bud. A prelude to the madness. Wounds opened, seams torn. A heaviness that weighed upon the shoulders, the unstoppable beating of the heart, the tightening of muscles, all coated in a downpour of blood red sweat. Droplets added to the crimson mire.

An unsettling realization of the truth. A wobble. The shifting of morality, values filled to the brim, but a soul left devoid of meaning. Another crack. Perspectives changing under duress, the malleability of promises, the distaste of life itself. A void where even the light would fade under the veil of hypocrisy.

Surging emotion bubbling to a boiling point. Piercing screeching. The incessant unease. A swarm of insects, too small to exterminate completely, too annoying to ignore. The pestering swarm buzzing without a care, a beast made of many, driven only on instinct. Instinct that wrought ruin.

A breath, a gasp, a grunt. The regaining of control, the tilting of the scale. Fallen wrongs made right, honest truths shrouded by lies. A call of arms to cruel reality, the lies of peace, the fires fed by the dreams of the innocent.

In the distant horizon, a figment of understanding. The necessities of life. A name, her name. Under the crimson sky, she found herself once more. A fractured consciousness reformed.

She stood, the world standing with her. The twisting of reality coiling around her like a serpent. Lifetimes passing in a flash. Regrets lingering for eternity, a soul stained. A quietness most unnatural.

Sophie? The question lingered, uncertainty in certainty. Doubt strangling the understanding.

She shivered, the pounding headache, the burden of life returning in force. Fleeting emotions entangled in unreachable depths. The answers to be found, already discovered but still eluding comprehension. Visions of the world she desired, denied by the realities of life. The fluctuating whimsy of fate left to unknowable Gods.

The futility of prayer. A desperate cry to the cosmos, to the stars that could not hear. In the cold, unfeeling void between lights. In the darkness that stretched endlessly, she saw the sole reachable foundation, the emptiness, the one certainty that could not be deceived. But even that felt strange, foreign, though it guided her still. Alone, she stood up, the mezmerising patter of little droplets falling from her sleeves, the red river growing redder still.

Alone, she pushed onwards. An aimless journey for a definite goal. A step in a world made of nothingness. Then, she blinked.

An eerie silence took hold. Emptiness, bereft of even the splashing of her boots in water. Darkness swallowed her whole. She held her ground, batting aside the rising panic. A thump.

Her eyes opened once more. No longer trapped in the realm of crimson rivers. A gentle, homely warmth danced like heavenly wisps across her. A low drone invaded her ears, but one sprinkled in with a tone of happiness.

She felt a smile come to her face, a comfort to be had after the strange ordeal moments ago. In front of her was a dull glow, the candlelight shining like a beacon amongst the darkness. The world slowly took form around it, a soft white glow.

Cheerily chanting followed, hands, calloused and firm rested atop hers. She turned to focus on the source of the touch. Clarity followed. An older masculine figure, his beard halfway greyed, his features wisened and wrinkled. Kind but firm eyes, a tired smile, more joy. Beside the figure, a woman, younger but not by much. Relaxed but still nervous, bluish brown eyes shining from the candlelight.

Two more cheers, her head turning on its own accord towards the noise. Two more faces. One being squished, his chubby cheeks inducing a smile from her. His eyes stared not at her but at the object in front of her. It was something of a treat with little candles from which the light of the room emitted from. A wondrous honey-like scent. The sight made her salivate. A cake made from honey, condensed milk, biscuits and cream. A rare treat, her treat.

Above the boy was a taller girl. The one who squished the boy’s cheek. Only when their eyes met did Sophie’s heart skip a beat. Memories rushed to the forefront. Knowledge buried and stuffed away, bounding back with reckless abandon. Excitement, curiosity, then, sadness. Understanding slowly settled. The picture now fully unravelled. Her heart began to ache.

For the girl was a brave girl. Who, in spite of her fear, had sacrificed herself. One who was quite stunning to behold. A ruffled blue dress, tied up hair, and quirky little smile directed at her. A girl who looked oddly like her own companion. Whose name was at the tip of her tongue but not quite there.

“Karelia? What is wrong?” A voice that was not her own but also her own echoed.

“Nothing. Just happy you’re growing up.” Karelia chuckled.

“Are you making fun of me? I’m already grown up.” She but not herself huffed indignantly.

Karelia just laughed, giving what was presumably her brother another pinch of the cheek. One that made him pout.

“Darling, your sister is happy for you.” The older man spoke.

Karelia’s chuckle made her think otherwise.

“Happy saints day.” The older woman smiled, “And for our little saintess too.” She pinched Mila’s cheeks.

She joined her brother in pouting, but could already feel the delighted grin that hid underneath rising to the surface.

“Happy saints day!” The other two cheered.

Pride swelled within her chest. She pulled her hands away from her parents and put them on her hips, standing up majestically.

“Happy saints day.” Her voice joined the cheer before making a declaration, “I will catch up to you two.” She beamed mirthfully at her siblings, “Then I’ll be big sis and uhh… not lil sister!”

The family shared a laugh at the ridiculous statement. Alongside her, they began tucking into the cake. For them, a delicacy.

For her, a flavorless part of the apparition. One given form but not function. The emptiness in her chest grew.

A chime, a small whistle. From joy and emptiness, another emotion sprang forth. One that Sophie knew well. Desperation.

It was there, an awareness. A seizure, a loss. She saw the world through Mila’s eyes. But not alone, she felt it acutely. The shifting of control. Mila wanted to speak. To speak as herself.

Sophie winced, the agony within growing with each passing moment.

“Mama, papa. Is the buisness doing well?” Mila asked, her child-like voice only making Sophie ever more aware of the tragedy looming overhead. The innocence that was then shattered.

“Lyudmila? What a strange question. Of course it is.” Her mother ruffled her hair.

Sophie felt the spark of happiness, of genuine affection.

“What’s the matter dear?” Her father inquired.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Are we... doing okay?”

The parents traded glances. Less of uncertainty and more of worry.

“Yes?” Father answered, his face now in a frown, “What’s the matter?”

“You… you… I remember you promising we could go to Volksgrad when I got older! Can we go?” Mila pretended to be excited.

Sophie now danced alongside another intruder, panicking in her own mind.

“Oh… oh! Of course! I had almost forgotten! We’ll make a plan for it, the next time we get a break.”

Mila abruptly shook her head, “Today! Today!” She pleaded.

The parents shared a laugh, as did her siblings.

“Now, now, dear. You have to be patient. We have nothing ready yet! Besides, you need to celebrate your special day!” Her mother replied.

“Quite so! There’s a lot to do in town and well, there’s no work for us today anyways, so food and feasts!”

“Yay!” Her siblings cheered with a giggle.

“Why not today? We could go today!”

“I know you love exploring, but a little patience, okay? You’ve gotten quite bold today, haha.” Her father beamed proudly at her.

But Mila felt nothing but fear and horror. No trace of anything beyond the maw of despair swallowing her whole. She wanted to argue, yet time would not let her. For the crimson sky snaked its hands into the blissful moment. Its gnarled claws slicing into the familial realm, shattering the picture, tearing it asunder.

“B-b-but it’ll be too late! We have to go! Go to Volksgrad! Please! I want to go! Really, really, want to!” She whined.

“We still have to plan for it silly. You don’t have to do much work yet, so no rush? Right?” Her mother lifted her onto her lap.

“No! We need to go! Now!” She screeched.

“Mila! Today's Saints Day! It might be a festival but you still need to show some respect.” Her father scolded.

“Please, just listen. Today’s no good! Demons will come! We need to leave town! Get everything and go! Please!”

Her cries unsettled her family, each of them obviously more disturbed by Mila’s actions than any of what they might’ve thought was just gibberish coming from the girl’s mouth.

“Young lady, calm down! Do not shout next to your mother! And do not sprout absurdities!”

“It’s not that! You don’t get it!”

“Don’t… get… what…?” Her father growled, “You’re behaving very oddly, young lady.”

The dream had been lost. The river of blood flowing once more, overwhelming what little of the image was left.

“No, no, no! We need to go! We need to go! We… we… need….” Mila tried to speak.

A churchbell rang to mark the start of the Saints Day market.

“No, no, no. It’s too late. It’s too late.” Mila muttered to herself, “Please… please…”

“I’ve had enough, young lady. You’re worrying your mother. Karel, Miro, finish off your cakes and then take your sister to the market. I think she might’e been inside too long yesterday.”

The two murmured their agreement, though both siblings cast worried looks at Mila.

Whatever energies sustained this vision faded, the crimson sky finally hanging overhead once more. The world fading into nothingness before they emerged back in the sulfuric bloody hells.

“I don’t want to be alone.” Mila whispered, her voice trembling as her tiny heart was on the verge of tears, “Why… why can’t we leave? Together.”

Faltering emotions. Emptiness and sadness adjoined. The waves crashing against her now provided a cooling clarity. A clarity of pain and sorrow. Her path now laid bare. A road of vengeance and justice.

Oh, fuck. Sophie regained some semblance of control, her own thoughts given purchase once more. I see, a dream turns into a nightmare. How cruel.

Quiet sobbing emerged from behind her and she twisted around to find nothing. Confused, Sophie searched all around her, more nothingness. Only the crimson wasteland all around.

Reacting to her inquiry, the world shifted once more, her soul smashed into two. A forceful separation, one that left her dazed. Fighting back the urge to retch from the soul wrenching experience, she spent a few moments collecting herself when the sobbing began anew.

She shuffled towards the direction of the noise, unable to see anything in the empty expanse. Only guided by the sound of tears, her own footsteps making splashes that seemed to echo for eternity. Taking one sordid step after another, she gazed up to the sky, exhausted.

The moon oozed rivers of blood from itself. Each opening acting like a torn open pore, unable to contain itself. The sky was dotted with cracks, openings of pure darkness that exuded a dangerous aura, wounds that refused to heal. While there were no demons or monstrosities prowling in the distance or the skies, she remained cautious nonetheless.

“Sophie… hah… why are you here?” A tired voice spoke to her.

Caught off guard, Sophie froze, trying to assess the situation when an arm suddenly wrapped itself around her neck. Before she could fight back, a hand then caressed her cheek. The strange motions left her paralyzed with indecision.

“Hah… of course… another apparition.” Mila whispered to herself, the girl’s form now reflective of her current self.

“...” I’m not? Sophie wanted to answer, but paused, wondering if observing the girl further could uncover the truth behind this strange dreamscape. About whether or not Sara’s magicks had any hidden intent that she didn’t sense before.

“It’s not fair…” Mila continued, “Just like your real self. Just walking in a straight line to your goal. No hesitation.”

That’s not true, she protested in her head.

“You worry so much, doubt so much. Yet you just… traipse along nonetheless. How? How do you just… move along?” Mila chuckled, “In theory, we should be the same. We’ve both gotten people killed, fought against horrors togehter. But we’re not.” The girl sighed, “We’re not.”

Sophie looked down, trying to hide her downcast expression from the Inquisitor. That’s because I can’t die, Mila, not in the way you would imagine. She reached over to comfort the melancholic girl. Mila, still unaware of Sophie’s consciousness, reached out her own hand to interlock with Sophie’s. The girl shamelessly held it tight, making Sophie’s cheeks match the crimson complexion of the sky.

“Mila…” Sophie finally let out an embarrassed croak.

“Eh?” The girl turned to face her properly, scrutinizing her appearance.

“It’s me.”

“Huh?”

“It’s me, Sophie.” Sophie repeated, “The real, alive one.”

“Wait, what? How-? What do you mean?”

“This place is your dreamscape, is it not?”Sophie asked.

“My dream… you shouldn’t be aware. But if you are… ah! You are the real one!” Mila quickly let go and jumped away a little, the girl just as embarrassed as Sophie had been.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

“Stars above… Sophie? That really you?” The Inquisitor looked her up and down in equal parts relief and bewilderment.

“Aye. It’s the real me, alright. Sorry to disappoint.”

“I… how are you here? Wasn’t the spell cast on me?”

Sophie scoured her own thoughts. Trying to piece together the sequence of events for Mila.

“It was, but I noticed something odd. Like a flicker of purple inside Sara’s divine spell.”

The Inquisitor’s face turned more stoic, a scowl reappearing on her face.

“Corruption.” She growled instinctively.

“Maybe. Not sure.” Sophie replied, “Came to check on you and noticed something odd. Well, then I got a little too close and now here I am. Not much more informed than you about what just happened.” She admitted.

“Saint damned hells.” Mila swore.

“But for what it’s worth. I think you’re alright the way you are, Mila. I have doubts too. But the reason I keep going is because I don’t know what else I could be doing. These past two years have been… let’s just say, a bit lifechanging.” Sophie snickered. That’s putting it mildly.

“Hells below! You heard all that?!” Mila cried out, the girl burrowing her face into her hands.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s… it’s fine.” Mila whispered, her face now also beet red.

“I uh, I also saw a memory.”

Mila glanced over, a little curious.

“Your family. Saint's Day.”

“Ah… ah…” Mila’s embarrassment faded into sorrow, the girl deflating with every passing, “Saint’s Day.” She mournfully repeated.

“Mila…”

“Just give me a moment, yeah? Then maybe uh, explain everything to me again.”

“Of course. Take your time. Goddess knows you’ve been through enough.”

The two stood beside each other in silence, each processing the events on their own, but not too far from each other. Soon, the sky around them cracked even more, drawing their attention. In the distance, a violent storm was brewing. One that Sophie suspected was a facsimile of the one occurring in real life.

What caught her eye though, was the deep darkness within the maelstrom. A darkness beyond even that of Mila’s crimson dreamlands. Sophie unwittingly took a few steps forward, only to be returned to herself when Mila tugged at her sleeves.

“What are you doing? Whatever the hells that storm is, going close is a bad idea.” The inquisitor queried.

Sophie didn’t reply, merely staring at the center of the growing hurricane. She could swear she saw it. A glimpse of the darkness beyond, the empty void surrounded by stars. Almost like an invitation having breached this already botched spell. If it is what I think it is, maybe Sara isn’t the one who corrupted the spell.

“Mila.” She called out, her voice unsteady. Slowly losing confidence in the idea floating around in her mind.

Mila just looked at her, cautious but curious.

“What if it wasn’t Sara that fucked up the spell?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if it was me? What if my preseance was what corrupted it?”

“I don’t quite follow.” The girl frowned.

“Because I think a part of me might have invaded your dreams, sorry.”

“You aside from the actual you?”

“Yeah.”

The two shared a soft chuckle.

“So?” Mila motioned for more, “What about it?”

“What if I told you that I think I see a way out, for both of us. A way to end this spell early.” Sophie pointed directly at the storm.

Mila sighed, a resigned sagging of her shoulders following not long after. “I suppose you’re going to then ask to go into a raging, bloody hurricane?”

Sophie nodded.

Mila let out a second sigh, “At least it’s better than going through my own memories again.” She shuddered, “Fuck it, lead the way. If this can put an end to these… accursed visions, then by all means.”