Chapter 5: Forest of Flower(1)
Dalia Rosevelt's POV,
After Loitering around Fortune Street and Barley Street for most of the evening, I felt like a ghost drifting through the vibrant chaos of the city.
The streets were alive with the hustle and bustle of daily life—vendors hawking their wares, children playing underfoot, and the constant rumble of carriages rolling over cobblestones.
Yet, amidst this vivid tableau, I felt curiously detached, as if the world were a painting and I was merely an observer.
As I wandered, my eyes caught sight of a beggar huddled in the shadows of an alleyway. He was a pitiful sight, his hands outstretched and trembling, eyes downcast.
Something in his posture, in the weary slump of his shoulders, struck a chord deep within me. I paused, a wave of empathy washing over me, bringing with it memories of my past struggles.
Digging into my pocket, I retrieved a few coins, their cool metal a tangible reminder of the 1,000 Slorins Elijah had left me. I pressed them into the beggar's palm, and he looked up, his eyes meeting mine with a glimmer of gratitude and surprise. It was a brief connection, a silent acknowledgment that despite everything, I was still human.
Turning away, I continued my path back to No. 9 Fortune Street, Elijah's home, which had become my reluctant haven. The house loomed ahead, its façade as unyielding and imposing as the man who owned it. Inside, the silence was thick and oppressive, a stark contrast to the lively streets outside.
I moved through the rooms, trying to gain familiarity with the place like someone who had walked the same path countless times, yet each step felt heavy, burdened with the knowledge of what lay ahead.
At some point, I found myself standing before a mirror, a familiar ritual that had become both comforting and disconcerting. Staring back at me was the reflection of Elijah—his face, his eyes, but with an expression that mirrored the turmoil within me. His face showed no emotion, a perpetual reminder of the role I was forced to play.
The sight triggered a flood of memories, pulling me back to an earlier time in the sterile confines of the makeshift lab.
The flashback enveloped me, vivid and unrelenting.
Elijah stood before me, his presence as commanding as ever, eyes piercing and voice steady. "I need you to make appearances as me at random times while I'm away," he instructed his words a binding contract. "And at other times, You are to use different appearances to investigate the Bluemon gang. Target high-level members while you can." He unlocked my chains with practiced ease, leaving me with supplies and a stack of 1,000 Slorins notes. The orders were clear—three days later, I was to be at the Communications Orb Station, ready to report.
Despite my outward compliance, the fire of rebellion burned fiercely within me. The moment Elijah left, I attempted to flee, driven by a desperate need for freedom.
I tried --I tried several times...
But no matter how far my feet carried me, I always ended up back at the entrance of No. 9 Fortune Street...
It was as if tethered by an invisible string. Even when I managed to escape by carriage, my mind would blank out, and I would find myself back at this doorstep, disoriented and defeated. Each failed attempt only heightened my tension, fear, and anxiety, until the weight of it all became unbearable.
Ultimately, I resigned myself to the inevitable—I would do as he asked, 'I would wear his guise, and also begin my investigation tomorrow', I remember that those were my thoughts, and I was finally free.
The flashback faded, leaving me once more in front of the mirror.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the transformation back to my true form.
Pain exploded through my body as bones cracked and reshaped with an audible symphony of suffering. My aether reserves drained rapidly, leaving me gasping and clutching the edge of the dresser for support.
A silent scream hovered on my lips, a testament to the agony that accompanied each conscious transformation.
"Why does it hurt when I consciously use transformation? I need answers..." I whispered to the reflection, my voice a fragile echo in the stillness as I glanced at my reflection, "He promised to give me them upon his return..."
Now, the mirror showed my true self—a young woman with ginger red hair cascading over my shoulders, blue eyes that held a depth of sorrow and determination, and pale skin that seemed almost ethereal in the dim light.
My fingers traced the familiar contours of my face and neck, a ritual of reassurance that I was still me beneath the façade.
Despite wearing Elijah's oversized shirt, I felt a sense of reclaiming my identity, however fleeting the moment might be.
But my own blue eyes held another reminder—one of my most important enemies. Anger twisted my features as the memory of that dark, rainy day surged through my mind with vivid clarity. I was on the cold, wet ground of an alley, blood pooling around me, while a man in a gray vintage suit stood over me. His long, wavy blue hair framed his face, and his left arm was bloodied, clutching a navy blue umbrella. His eyes—those unnerving eyes with pupils that moved like clockwork and maniacal expression —were a blur in my memory, yet the sound of his hateful laughter was unmistakable, echoing in my mind like a haunting refrain.
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"I'll kill you! I'll kill you and everything you ever loved, Rio, even if I have to embrace that devil!" The vow reverberated within me, a fierce promise etched into my very being.
In a surge of rage, I lifted my arm, intent on shattering the mocking reflection before me. My fist trembled in the air, poised to strike, when a sudden tingling sensation washed over me.
It was as if my very skin had come alive with warning signals, urging caution. That Devil's order rang in my ears, his voice smooth yet chilling: "You are not allowed to endanger my family or damage my properties unless I give you a corresponding order."
My arm fell limply to my side, the fight draining from me as reality settled in once more. I stood there, breathing heavily, my chest rising and falling with the weight of suppressed anger and frustration.
The moment passed, leaving me feeling hollow and trapped, a prisoner within my own life.
I turned away from the mirror, the reflection of my enemy still vivid in my mind, a specter that refused to fade. My thoughts drifted back to the beggar I'd seen earlier, his gratitude a small beacon of light in the shadow of my existence.
It was a reminder that despite the chaos and control exerted over my life, I still had the power to make choices, however small they might be...
With a deep breath, I resolved to focus on the task at hand. Elijah's orders were clear, and while the investigation into the Bluemon gang was a daunting prospect, it was also an opportunity. An opportunity to gather information, earn his trust, understand the game I was now a part of, and perhaps, gain more power to defeat him. The road ahead was fraught with danger, but it was a path I had no choice but to walk...
As I moved through the house, preparing for the next day, I felt a strange sense of determination settle over me as I sprawled on the couch.
It was fragile, like the first light of dawn breaking over the horizon, but it was there, a small flicker of hope amidst the darkness. Though Elijah's shadow loomed large over my life, I was resolved to navigate the path before me with courage and cunning, to survive, and ultimately, to find a way to break free from the chains of my past that bound me.
_________
As Elijah and his group crossed the threshold of the city's enchantment, the weight of the world seemed to press down upon them, as though gravity itself had intensified.
The vibrant chaos of the forest gradually gave way to a pristine wilderness, untamed and untouched by human hands.
The earthy scent of moss and pine filtered through their masks, a sharp contrast to the bustling streets they had left behind. Towering trees loomed overhead, their branches interwoven like a natural cathedral, casting a verdant canopy that dappled the forest floor with patches of ethereal purple moonlight.
The cacophony of the city was replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant call of night birds, creating a symphony of nature that enveloped them as they ventured deeper into the forest. The path beneath the old, rusty pickup truck transitioned from the uneven road of the forest to a more balanced yet rugged dirt road, adding a gentle jostle to their journey.
The truck's tires kicked up small clouds of dust, mingling with the moonbeams to create a purple haze that lingered in the air.
As they navigated the winding dirt road, Elijah caught sight of rolling hills beyond, blanketed in wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. The landscape was dotted with ancient rocks and fallen logs, remnants of a time when nature reigned supreme.
Here, in this untamed wilderness, the world felt expansive and full of possibilities, a stark contrast to the confinement and control of the city. But those who had ventured out here before knew this was merely the calm before the storm.
Young Tim and the awestruck Nicolas, however, were captivated by its beauty, their eyes wide with wonder.
Most people were unaware of the moon's true color, having lived their entire lives in the city, and it was not surprising to see those experiencing the outside night sky for the first time react with such awe.
The journey continued, and in the distance, the silhouette of a pitch-black mountain range loomed, its peaks shrouded in mist, hinting at the mysteries and challenges within. This was Echo Mountain, or the Mountain of Echoes...
As the trees finally gave way to open fields stretching to the horizon, the cloudless sky was painted with a purple hue, with a small pale blue moon hidden behind the much larger purple moon.
Within the truck, a sudden beep from a strange-looking radar alerted the group.
"Looks like we have a signal," Sam commented, leaning forward. They were driving at a moderate pace without lights to avoid attracting attention.
Thankfully, the moon was exceptionally bright tonight, and the journey had been uneventful. Elijah took a deep breath, glancing at his silver pocket watch.
They had only been on the road for over seven hours.
"Something isn't right," Elijah murmured, a frown creasing his brow. "The cargo lost signal a day's journey away from the city, and now, just seven hours in, we have a signal?" His green eyes were sharp with suspicion as he glanced at the radar's marker.
The strangest thing was that the ominous signal was getting stronger.
"The maximum coverage is 400 miles, but it appears to be about a hundred miles away,” Elijah spoke calmly as the group fell into a tense silence, the only sound the steady rumble of the truck's engine.
Each member was lost in their thoughts, pondering the implications of Elijah's words. Their journey continued until they veered off track, compelled by the signal's pull.
Eventually, they were forced to leave the truck, armed with weapons, as they entered what appeared to be a forest of flowers.
As they arrived at the location indicated by the radar, Elijah's eyes narrowed with suspicion. The ground was a sea of purple flowers, their faint luminescence creating the illusion of a purple carpet.
Elijah felt a nagging familiarity with these flowers, as if their name was on the tip of his tongue but just out of reach.
His green eyes, vigilant and wary, swept over the scene trying to use his perception to its maximum limit, soon his eyes landed on three towering trees, each twenty meters high and several meters wide.
Their ancient presence suggested they had stood since the first era but he was almost certain they were not.
The wind stirred, sending petals dancing through the air, trailing purple light particles like a scene from a fairy tale.
But the beauty was shattered by a sudden, panicked cry.
Nicolas fell with a thud, his face pale with fear as he pointed a trembling finger. The group's weapons swung toward the direction he indicated, only to reveal a corpse lying amidst the sea of flowers, clutching a small black box—their package.
The familiar figure bore a bullet wound in its side, and his damaged Aether filtering mask had contributed to his death. Nicolas's eyes were wide with horror, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to comprehend the sight before him.
The group exchanged grim glances as Elijah stepped forward cautiously, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger. The purple flowers rustled gently in the wind, their ethereal glow casting an otherworldly light over the scene. He knelt beside the corpse, his expression a mixture of determination and sorrow.
“It's Brigg,” Balmon, the half-orc commented, earning him a nod from Elijah. Brigg was the leader of the group that was sent out this time, known for his almost feral stubbornness, it was sad to see him like this.
"Everyone, stay alert," he suddenly instructed as he felt a strange movement within his perception range, his voice steady but low, as he examined the surroundings.
Upon failing to detect anything, he pried off the black box clutched tightly in Brigg's lifeless hands.
The box was black all over but marked with dirt and blood, its presence both a relief and a cause for concern. Elijah carefully inspected the deceased, noticing the bullet wound and the damaged mask that had sealed this man's fate. On his left, he had etched some words in desperation... All Elijah could make out from it was ‘it’s coming’.
Sam moved closer, his brow furrowed with concern upon seeing the words on the ground.
"What do you think happened here, Boss?" he asked, glancing around nervously. The air felt charged with tension as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
Elijah shook his head slowly, his mind racing with possibilities. "I'm not sure unless we can find the original scene, it doesn't add up. Someone went through a lot of trouble to make sure this package didn't reach its destination, but why let Brigg leave with it?”
Nicolas, still visibly shaken, took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. "Do you think whoever did this is still around?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Elijah stood, his gaze sweeping the area once more. "It's possible. Search around for clues, and make sure to always stay in each other's line of sight. This place... it's too quiet." His instincts were screaming that something wasn't right, the eerie tranquility of the forest at odds with the grim discovery they had just made. But he needs to know what happened to get a glimpse of what they were up against.