They were looking for a girl, but the given description could only be talking about me. The entire thing was deprived in detail, not being extraordinarily thorough by any means; but the silver hair alone would have been enough to convince me that their search was directed at my person. There were few in this country that possessed any such pigmentation naturally at such a young age, so much so that I had yet to see another with the exact same tone or hue—though I had beheld similar variations over the years of course.
I was also once again reminded of my small stature—a trait that, although not intrinsically linked to the female body, is often seen in conjunction with my face, hair length, and voice as identifying factors to label me as a girl. The coat and blindfold pair was the eventual nail on the coffin. I often traversed harsh climates, facing a ruthless and unforgiving sun at day followed by the chilling dead of night. It was my feathered coat that kept those tantalising solar rays at bay, whilst providing warmth when the temperature eventually dropped.
Although I was not wearing the blindfold as of this moment, I had worn it prior to my entry into the forest. A large faded scar on my face was my reason for possessing the clothing article; which, although faded, was very sensitive to sunlight. I wrapped cloth around my head to cover my eyes and the upper half of the face; thus protecting it from overexposure, whilst also allowing others to recognise my condition without outwardly stating it. Now that I was under the canopy, the sunlight was mostly obscured so I could afford to let my skin breathe for a while. As for how the blindfold affects my regular vision, this measly obstruction may as well be no more opaque than a glass pane. The rules of the spirit realm are entirely different, and a thin physical blockage like this one with no sense of spirituality does not amount to much.
Now that I knew they were searching for me, I was very interested to learn more about why specifically. Whereas the reason seemed simple and obvious, their predictable intent being to ensure my safety and escort me out were I found alive, I could not help feeling off with that as the reason alone. It was as the soldiers said: the likelihood of my own survival was very close to impossible, and there were other aspects of the conversation I slowly found myself picking apart. There was an odd focus on me in relation to seemingly unconnected matters.
There was a certain comment that held an unsettling insinuation I could not free my mind from—an expression of doubt over my capabilities concerning the inhuman feat that led to a mass of aberrants being ‘completely torn apart’. It was clear that they were searching for a culprit, one that could defeat large quantities of aberrants; and one of their superiors must have labelled me to be a potential suspect, to which it was no surprise when the soldiers were apprehensive in believing such a thing. It was a reasonable assumption to assume infighting, and my prior experience with the rabid aberrant corpses confirmed something like that probably did happen at some point, but I knew the evil spirits weren’t the only other variable involved. They had figured that out too, I had guessed, but did not know who it was unlike I did.
“They think it was me…” I voiced outwardly whilst in the midst of thought. By this point Gwyndolin and I had long left our previous positions and were headed away from the soldiers. My interest in meeting them had depleted and Gwyndolin did not seem particularly interested in meeting them either.
“What do they think was you?” Without context, Gwyndolin naturally hadn’t a clue what I was talking about.
“They’re looking for the one who killed those aberrants, that’s the contents of their search.”
Gwyndolin laughed.
“Well that’s just silly–! They think you did that? No, it was infighting. They fought among each other, saw it with my own eyes.”
Even that rank-and-file soldier could tell how it happened, she continued.
Her point was sensible, but flawed.
“It wasn’t the ordinary sort of infighting you’ve seen before, it was possessed corpses.”
“Yep, knew that already. Just ‘cause the dreads change the motives, doesn’t change the fact it was still infighting.”
“Dreads?” I questioned.
“Those little rat bastards chasing you. Not the aberrants themselves, but the flesh-eating vermin… possessing, decaying, and corroding what’s left of them—every bit of their remains. Right down to a bloody pile of mush,” Gwyndolin explained, her face contorting and composure waning near the end of her sentence. This day had marked my first interaction with their kind, those charnel, maligned spirits far more dangerous and terror-inducing than anything I had encountered before; their origin no doubt the greatest bowels of hell and the sins of their past lives unimaginable. It was a visceral and instinctual feeling that welled up inside me when I recalled their presence—a deep disgust directed at their very existence, a feeling of pure and unbridled rejection, which Gwyndolin’s colourful choice of words and harsh tone implied she must feel similarly. I was finally given a name for their horrible likeness: ‘dreads’.
“Although the dreads were involved, there was another party.” The spark to light this fire, I added. “For the initial possessions to happen, there must be flesh to possess first. And it can’t have a soul in it already.”
Spirits and mortals were like oil and water—capable of becoming parallel to one another, yet never mixing. Never can they interact. There are many details surrounding this world that you will never come to know, but that does not mean you will always be limited in knowledge. There will always be a plethora of information you know and will come to know; and the following information is one of the major discoveries I had come to make in my lifetime over the last decade.
Ultimately, what separates a denizen of the material world from those of the spirit realm is the components they consist of; whereas a spirit in the spirit realm is just that, a spirit, a mortal consists of two parts, the soul and the flesh. One is incomplete without the other, a soul needs its body and a body needs its soul. However, when the two are together and complete, there is no more space left for anything else. A spirit could theoretically possess the flesh. But for a spirit to intrude, the soul must go first; and the soul only goes when the mortal dies.
But even so, this could only happen where spirits and mortals are able to interact. An inseparable boundary exists between the two and this cannot be broken. However, there are exceptions; little loopholes and ways the membrane can thin ever so slightly, so that the smallest of overlaps can take place. I am one such example. The spirits that bind themselves to my flesh, the villagers whose lust for vengeance could not allow them to pass on peacefully—they are a breach of this iron-clad rule. It is when there is a connection to the material world so strong that it is binding, only then can there be an overlap.
From what the locals had told the soldiers, this forest seemed to be a site of spiritual importance. A ‘cursed land’, as the locals had stated it to be according to the soldiers’ conversation. We have entered their domain, where I do not doubt an overlap of the land has occurred; and any flesh that falls on it is free to be possessed, corroded, and consumed in its entirety by the dreads. I do not know why they are here. I do not know what it is that binds them to this land. I do not wish to know. After piecing everything together, I realised the gravity of how foolish it is for anyone to step on this land. The locals’ superstition and vehement burial of the site was entirely understandable.
“Hm, is that so…?” Gwyndolin squinted her eyes, giving my words serious thought for a moment before continuing. “I’ve studied all sorts of spirits, I really have. I know more names for spirits than I do people. But it ain’t possible to meet one, not while you’re alive at least. I’m curious. You know so much, but you didn’t recognize something as simple as the name. You speak as if you have… first-hand experience. I think Gwynevere hasn’t told me the whole story when it comes to you.”
I coughed, making an exaggerated motion out of it, hoping Gwyndolin’s knack for conversation would pick up on the very obvious signals indicating that we were departing away from where I wished the conversation to be. I changed the subject to finally reach what I most wanted to discuss, or who I most wanted to discuss for that matter. “Before I was attacked by the aberrants, they’d already been deceased a little while prior. The wounds they suffered and ultimately fell to, someone on the soldiers’ side must’ve been skilled enough to realise someone else had caused them—or that’s what I’m guessing is going on anyway. They suspect I’m the one who did them in first and they seem keen on getting me; but I know the one they’re really looking for. He’s the very reason I’m here.”
Oskar… I felt my chest clench thinking about him, my heart and lungs crushed by the narrowing cage that was my own ribs. It was due to his presence that the dreads were given the means to interact with anyone or anything in the material world. That is why all of this only happened now. An insurmountable darkness followed him and with it left a trail of death and suffering. His soul had blackened with a thick miasma; it made me want to reach him sooner before it got any more dense, yet I was made apprehensive by the fear of what he may have become.
Over the years, I had slowly loosened the grip this heinous snake had on me; but as conflicting feelings grew, the guilt only seemed to wrap around me with newfound vigour—my resolution wavering with every second that passed. When I thought about finally meeting him, the day I had dreamed of on many sleepless nights, I grew more and more uncertain that I could triumph their relentless lust for vengeance which had never once wavered. But regardless of how it may end, the one thing I was sure of was that I would see it through.
“If that’s the case—hm… this is really becoming a pain.” Gwyndolin had a troubled look on her face, one not overly different to my own. She seemed to mull something over before her new expression showed she had steeled herself to a decision. I did not know what she was dealing with, but at this moment I felt awe at her decisiveness which I myself struggled so much to possess.
“Do you have a destination in mind? For where we are headed,” I asked. We had been walking for a short while now and though I disliked not knowing for so long, I hadn’t found a time appropriate to ask until now.
“I do. We’re just approaching the place now,” Gwyndolin turned towards me slightly, and for that mere moment I saw the edges of her mouth rise just the faintest bit. I winced, her response hardly answering my question—which likely was intentionally done on her part. We were approaching soon so I gave it not much thought and surmised it to be just her usual antics I was unfortunately growing accustomed to. Still, at times like this, I came to miss Gwynevere’s straightforwardness. It was hard to believe they were siblings.
The monotonous surroundings I had been faced with—with the same repeated fauna, trees, mud, and any other predictable patterns accustomed to the average and easily recognisable forests this continent held—was quickly broken by the outlier that was a dip in the ground; looking almost as if a path downwards had been excavated by hand, yet the rock formations and lack of any unnatural indentations or scraping indicated otherwise, as well as the bountiful shrubbery further convincing me that it was a natural formation.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
I was interested in where exactly the land would lead us were we to accept its invitation and traverse down into the depths, and Gwyndolin salvaged my intensifying curiosity by not putting on any airs before heading down the slope. As I followed behind, the ground seemed to rise above and surround us much like an alleyway. Passing large rocks, more foliage, and even the occasional tree that bore its roots in the lowered ground, we eventually reached the end of our course only to be struck by a venerable beam of light the likes of which I had been totally unprepared to meet. How dimly lit the passageway had been until now only exaggerated the effects of this sudden exposure to the light.
I hurriedly covered my face with my arms, for the sheer amount of sunlight was unexpected with how dense the canopy had been prior. I scuffled about for a moment in my muddled incomprehension until I managed to pull my blindfold out of my coat. Leaning forward, I wrapped it tight around my head and let my bangs rest upon it. I was finally able to let out a sigh of relief once that had been done.
And it was from there that I was able to see the destination Gwyndolin had brought me to in full clarity. A vast and wide area opened up to me as a large clearing that seemed to span just out of my vision’s reach and run further elsewhere, in which the thick canopy from before had almost completely disappeared and a drastic shift of scenic tone could immediately be witnessed. The evening sun shined down with no relinquishing strength as it lit up the vista in a tropical heat, as if disobeying the climate to which it should belong; and the plant life seemed to respond in kind with a flourishing verdancy, taking on a refreshingly green hue that differed by its apparent liberation from the destructive hands of man or aberrant so commonly seen in such a place as the Fraylands. The entire clearing was circumferenced by the dense forest atop the cliffs and large boulders which spread out to form vast walls of stone where the vines, shrubbery, and trees rested upon them and bathed in the sunlight.
At the very centre of the clearing was a large lake with shallow running waters which seemed to extend further beyond the initial area as a river, flowing and spanning throughout every segment which made up the clearing in its entirety. As I stared down into the crystalline rapids, I almost thought that I saw the quaint souls of fish in the form of miniscule specks of light swimming in the water. Gazing upon the vista, I felt a wave of solemness wash over me. Far and few between are moments like this where the mere description is so vivid and bountiful, it’s almost like I can bear witness to the world through my own real eyes. But alas, it was nothing more than a closer observation through the looking-glass.
But I suppose what was most intriguing to me was the ruins. Lining the right-side of the clearing and sitting upon a flat slab of land raised just above the water was the image of a derelict structure, entailing the enticing vestiges of regal stone pillars and walls. Seemingly much older and deteriorated than I thought possible, their architectural design largely differed from the ruins I usually scoured; which through various related means such as the sale of rare, strange, or even historically important objects, as well as the documentation of new findings, was my main source of income as well as a huge hobby of mine. You could call me something along the lines of an amateur archaeologist, though I never cared for classification. I almost wanted to dash over there right that second to get a closer look, but as I realised how much I had both lost my composure and focus, I hurriedly put a stop to that thought as soon as I could. My only hope was that Gwyndolin hadn’t noticed.
Gwyndolin had stood idly the entire time, allowing me to fully take in the area before saying a word or asking me to move on; but I was soon interrupted regardless of her mindful momentary silence as we were approached by two figures. Although it would be a lie to say their sudden presence was entirely unmoving, which I could not say the same for Gwyndolin in that moment who neither flinched nor lost her composure in the slightest, I had actually seen many more specks of light thoroughly spread throughout the clearing other than the fish in the lake. It was not so much a surprise when the two approached rather than it was an uncomfortable circumstance since the situation seemed to become more and more complex than I initially thought. It was evidently clear to me now that Gwyndolin was far from alone.
The two men were heavily clothed, clad with familiar armour and layers of fabric that seemed to cover any gaps which would otherwise expose their skin. Their visage had been heavily obscured as well, and I could not make out their faces or the expressions hidden under their helmets. I quickly grew uneasy in their ominous presence; because whereas the tenebrity would be unsettling for any other person forced to be in my place, I, on the other hand, could see far beyond the guise of their garments and see them for what they really were.
With the truth laid out before me, that unsettlement was amplified greatly. My heart rate quickened, but I put the utmost effort into equally obscuring the emotions and ideas I held so that they would not show on my own half-exposed face. I took a deep breath and turned to Gwyndolin, sensing it would be better for her to do the talking as for the moment.
Gwyndolin spoke but the words were in a language I failed to understand, and I felt sweat form on my brow beneath the blindfold as I involuntarily tensed my facial muscles. They conversed back and forth for what felt like impossibly long before she turned back to me and spoke a singular word: “Come.” Her tone gave away no malicious intent and neither did she seem to take on any signs of hostility in her aura, but I could not help hearing this lone word to be intimidatingly sinister. There was no room to refuse and as I hesitated to walk forward, I felt the cold and indifferent gazes from the two escorting figures. I think I would have preferred if they looked at me with belligerence or disfavour, but in the end I was met with neither.
Spanning across the grounds we walked were a large number of similar figures who stood ominously, never moving from their assigned position; not even the slightest turn of a neck to look our way. They were clearly well-trained, holding spears as well as many other kinds of weaponry as they held each corner in resolute commandeered purpose, almost as if they were statues and I had failed to notice that fact.
The more time that passed while closely following Gwyndolin’s back, the more I grew displeased at my own presence in such a place. I felt as if I had stumbled upon something I was never meant to see, and to be frank I wished not to stay there much longer for no doubt I would be meddling in some troublesome affairs were I to become too involved. However, I had not much of a choice. Avoiding capture by the soldiers was a top priority in my important journey to Cherepakha and Gwyndolin had clearly shown me to this location as an expression of her trust in me. It was better not to betray that trust so as not to awaken the sleeping statues.
It was not long before we reached the ruins, the likes of which had brought me great excitement in the idea of setting foot in them just minutes prior, but had now become far from any point of concern regarding the current affairs. It was hard to get excited in the context. I had refrained from speaking a single word the entire way, thoughts and implications brewing in my mind at a constant rate. And with some more communication that I could not understand in the slightest, the two escorts left us alone in the midst of the ruins; in what hardly counted as a room, but did well to obscure us from prying eyes. For probably the first time since entering the clearing, I met Gwyndolin’s eyes with my own.
Gwyndolin stared back with a moderate intensity… until she suddenly spun on her ankle and fell back against the wall with a laidback ‘phew-!’. Her head tilted towards me with an expression completely devoid of the rigid solidarity she had just a moment prior, and when I was lost for words and unable to prevent that fact from showing on my expression, she spoke in this lousy tone as if she was the one with the right to be worn out here. “Hah… Putting on these airs of importance is bloody annoying y’know? ‘But you’re a role model and it’s your responsibility’! I swear I can hear her nagging halfway across the continent…”
I had no bloody clue what Gwyndolin was going on about. I thought I would be able to gather the correct words to say in response after she broke the silence, that I would be able to neatly collect my muddled thoughts and verbalise them in an ordinate manner, yet after hearing what she had to say, I was unable to even speak a single comprehensible word. There were too many things I wanted to say and address that I ultimately could not even speak.
After a few more painful moments of a prolonged and awkward silence, I eventually managed to fix some words together into something resembling that of a sentence. “You—. Those… those are, they’re aberrants right? What—what is going on? Gwynevere, does she…?” There was a total lack of coherency in my speech and many times I almost choked on my words, but I found my barely comprehensible ramblings to be better than being unable to say anything at all.
Gwyndolin was not shocked at my own inability to remain calm or speak plainly but neither did she seem obligated to react in an orderly manner in line with the current situation. She seemed relaxed and unbothered, to which it was no surprise that she would adopt such a demeanour. She had full control over where to direct the conversation and I could hardly protest without outing myself as a dimwitted fool. Since long ago whence I realised what exactly was going on behind the scenes, a low and hollow burning sensation had slowly but gradually gathered in my stomach and refused to settle down; however, despite my fury, I knew that I owed a debt of gratefulness in the very fact I was allowed this audience alone with Gwyndolin away from the foreign soldiers whose mere presence hastened my breathing and caused sweat to gather at my brow.
“Correct, they’re aberrants. I am the only human here, besides you of course,” Gwyndolin answered one of the many questions asked before methodically choosing her words and giving me piecemeals of information to digest, “They’re with me, and it’s for that reason the inquisitors’ presence is a big problem for me.”
“Inquisitors?” I asked curiously. I had not heard any mention of their presence prior; and it had been my belief that the ones searching the forest were soldiers and soldiers only.
“You’ve probably heard of them. They’re a special force dedicated to finding, capturing, and prosecuting the heretics who dare dabble in witchcraft. Depending on who exactly they send out, they can be much scarier than the average soldier.”
“Hm… That’s strange, though. Why are they here? They only appear when witchcraft is concerned… as far as I’m concerned. What do they care about spirits?” I could see a relation in how spirits and witchery are both existences very hard to explain with fact-based logic, but other than that there should not be much else to link the two. Inquisitors only care about mandating human-related witchcraft, so I found it very hard to believe they would show up in the current circumstance; which was more involved with aberrants for the most part, thus only the army should be necessary.
“They ain’t here for the spirits—I doubt they even believe in them,” Gwyndolin responded, “Most humans go their entire lives without ever knowing their phantasmic friends exist, which makes you all the more interesting, but what they do know at the moment is that corpses are being reanimated. Since they don’t know the culprit are those nasty dreads, but they’ve gotten reports of a strange fella going ‘round killing them before they suddenly get up, whaddya think they’re gonna put it down to? The usual excuse… some obscure kinda spell!”
“Ah... Mm, I think I get what you mean.” I understood what she was saying. It was easy to forget others couldn’t just see spirits like I could. “So they’re here too then…”
“Right, and it isn’t just the regular army men out there-! They’re dealing with a big ol’ threat, one they don’t have much information about. You saw the firearms holstered on the soldiers’ hips, right? Rank and file units like them armed with pistols in a place so far out in the country’s about as strange as strange gets. On top of that, there's inquisitors too being thrown into the mix. Your guy has really messed things up, attracting this much attention in so short a time.” Gwyndolin paused for a moment, squinting as she looked upwards into nothingness before turning my way and asking a question, “What’s the name of your friend, anyway?”
“I’d rather not speak it.” I was quick to answer. No matter how I looked at it, it felt like a bad idea giving his name away so I chose to stay silent.
Gwyndolin did not seem overly bothered by my reluctance. Her face turned sour as if she had been tasked with more work, “Mm, well the name’s irrelevant. The ignorant bastard messed everything up, he did. Tch… what a pain…”
I furrowed my brows at the last of her last words, and before I cared to notice I had already spoken.
“Do not call him that,” I said.
“Haha, what’s got you so energetic? You like him or something?” Gwyndolin looked equally surprised and amused at the strange trigger to rekindle the vigour in my voice. “It wasn’t an insult, I ain’t got any personal vendetta against the lad. Would've said the same about anyone else.”
Her accent and choice of words were just as peculiar now as they were before, and before long I found myself losing the will to argue with her. I let out a long sigh as the muscles in my face loosened. At the same time, Gwyndolin seemed to get a little more serious as she carried on from where she had left off.
“I can’t tell you why I’m here, can’t tell you much for that matter. Mostly for your own safety. But do understand neither us nor you want an unnecessary scuffle with Christeyeres here. We both need to get out of here covertly to carry on our own ideals.”
I looked at her and I felt as if I had a good grasp of where she was getting at.