Failure and Blessing

They tore the pieces of armour off the man, caring little for whether it was carefully removed or torn from their body, speed being their only concern.

A cry of distress arose from their Spirit, as they threw the once grasped shield into the depths below, only slightly appeased by Wanderer’s hurried promise to fetch it later.

In minutes, the heavy armour had been removed completely, and their thoughts stilled for a moment, hoping that they had been quick enough to save the bodyguard from their demise.

They had not.

The body did not begin to rise to the surface, unladen as it was, there was no sudden wakefulness, the corpse was cold and dead.

“I have failed”, they realised.

Maybe it was their hesitation, maybe it was the fall, maybe they had died from shock before their body even hit the water, yet nonetheless, Wanderer’s actions had doomed a thinking, knowing being to die.

And the fact crushed them, in an instant, the guilt and doubt they had tried so hard to suppress came forcing its way back, an unstoppable beast that ate any rational thought that came to their mind, leaving room for nothing but pain.

Their Spirit applied rationality to their situation, saying that even if the bodyguard was saved, the snakes or fog-beasts would surely have finished them off.

Yet unlike before, their advice fell upon a deaf mind, the Vessel’s failure leaving no room for anything but what ifs and broken promises.

Almost catatonic, the Golem sank to the familiar depths, even Emio failing to break them out of their stupor.

Even as their hooves touched the soft lake floor, the wondrous sights of glowing fish and vibrant coral had little effect upon their mental state, nor the sudden flash of Emio changing form.

For a long time their thoughts remained in the vicious circle, the cycle only broken by a morbid scene, the corpse, cold and blue, slowly floating down before resting precariously upon a spiral of coral.

Wanderer stopped and stared for a moment, their mind catching up with the scene in front of them, before they crept over to the body, and as if holding a sacred artefact, removed it from its perch and rested it on the floor.

As if by instinct, they used their four arms to dig a shallow hole in the lakebed, Emio joining in after a moment, wanting to help, even if they didn't know why.

Between the two of them, a grave was dug, shallow, as they soon hit compact earth underneath the soft silt.

Once Wanderer was satisfied, they reverently placed the body within and began to search the surrounding area for the discarded pieces of armour, so that the warrior may be buried with them.

And so the Vessel wandered across the lakebed, picking up scraps of metal and cloth until they came upon the bodyguard’s most prized possession, the enchanted shield that held the trapped Spirit.

At the sight, their Spirit once again beseeched them to destroy the armament and set its kin free.

“Later”, they told their guide, they would face their current issue and deal with that one later.

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Leaving the shield where it lay, Wanderer returned to the burial and having collected all the destroyed armour, began to fill in the grave, the body slowly disappearing from view.

And as the final handful of dirt fell into place, the Golem stood slowly, and as if a great weight was lifted from their shoulders, relaxed.

With a reassuring word to their worried spirit and a quick pet of reassurance to Emio, they made their way back to the abandoned shield.

Despite the recent stresses, the shield appeared undamaged, its green metal wholly unscratched.

In the centre of the shield lay the green gem which they had seen from far away, now being able to peer closer, it became apparent that inside the gem struggled the forespoken spirit, appearing as little more than a swirling ball of dark green light.

Unwilling to force their Spirit to wait any longer, they raised one of their hooves and brought it down with all the force they could muster upon the gem.

A single crack ran through the stone before it shattered like glass, freeing the enslaved Spirit and causing a cry of joy to burst from the Spirit deep within them.

The moment it was freed, the Spirit became invisible, going back to a different plane, yet it didn’t have to be visible for the Golem to sense it.

Wanderer could feel it, could feel its tremendous presence and power, if their own Spirit was a trickling stream then the one that rose in front of them was a great waterfall, the likes of which Wanderer was yet to see.

Power radiated from the place it occupied, magic that didn’t need to be distinguished with colour or light, but the burning feeling of cold metal and deep earth.

The Vessel beheld its incorporeal form for only a moment before it dove deep under the ground, gaining even higher power as it moved, like a meteor becoming brighter as it burned through the sky.

For a spell, the Spirit seemed to forget about its liberators, the ecstasy of being free and exposed to their source of magic reigning over all other thoughts in its ethereal mind.

“How long were they trapped?”, Wanderer wondered, their shield prison seemed new, but it had not taken damage from the fall nor anything else that the Golem had seen it encounter, and try as they might, they couldn’t find even the slightest imperfection on it, with exception of the now shattered crystal.

As they were pondering the question, the freed Spirit paused their rapid circles and came to a stop in front of Wanderer.

Yet the Spirit did not lay its attention on Wanderer, nor on the disquieted Emio who raised their tendrils in an offensive position, yet could see no target to attack.

They looked through them, at the helpful little guide who occupied a space right next to their soul, their own Spirit.

Without a moment of hesitation, the two phantoms began to speak in their way, through emotions, yet unlike the guiding voice they were familiar with, the two Spirits spoke at a speed far beyond Wanderer’s comprehension.

Feelings flashed between the two with such speed that the Vessel never had a chance to scry the larger Spirit’s intentions, their comprehension of the conversation was limited to what little they could tell from the passing moods of their own Spirit.

Joy, Greetings, Confusion, Humility, Acceptance, Honor.

Wanderer sat on the lake floor intently attempting to decode the nature of the discussion, until a lull came over the participants, the Vessel’s own Spirit thinking deeply and their partner awaiting an answer.

After a few moments that Emio capitalised to lay in Wanderer’s lap, disgruntled with the perceived foe and their lack of substance, their companion gave an answer, one slow enough for the Golem to pick out.

Yet they never had the chance to decode it, in a instant, a tidal wave of dark green magic washed over Wanderer, locking them in place before it started to seep into their body.

The vast power filtered through their clay flesh, lighting up the inside of their body like a star, before it began to condense inside the Golem.

Neighbouring their Spirits spot next to their soul, it crushed and precipitated until in a final burst of power, it took form.

For an instant, Wanderer thought that they had gained a new Spirit, a new guide to take them along their path.

Yet, upon closer inspection, the ball of magic was exactly that, a lifeless, unintelligent ball.

Despite the great ceremony, the mass of power seemed to do little, but with one finishing burst of magic from the earthen phantom, its true purpose became clear.

It was a Blessing.