Fallen Survivor
That evening, beyond the territory of the Eastern Rindea Mountain Range, underneath the boughs of a thick forest covering the foot of the largest mountain, a silhouette stirred. His hands took hold of large roots that had bent and cracked underneath the impact of his fall earlier that day. Disturbed insects crawled all over his arms and a viper slithered away from his foot. He startled a scavenging crow that was pecking at a wound right above his temple. It cawed and flew away, perching at a nearby tree, waiting with intent eyes.
The last thing Venry Stepholm remembered was jumping off the peak of the mountain, leaving his charge for the slim chance of survival and escape the total oblivion that threatened his life. He had used every ounce of meiyal he had to survive the fall, cascading over jagged rocks, branches, and tree trunks, and ultimately plummeting to this very spot where he had lost consciousness.
Whoever—or whatever—wanted those bombs had been, it didn’t represent death. On the contrary, the threat had offered eternal life. A life of endless torture and no respite.
In truth, he never saw the enemy. The approaching presence alone was menacing enough to chase him away. Venry never thought himself a coward, not even after all that. To run away as fast as possible, at the risk of his survival, was simply the correct and only choice. Still, it went against his duty and leaving his insignia behind was the only action he could think of to represent his failure as a Guard Knight of Irista Nation.
Venry couldn’t move much, feeling nothing from his waist down. His neck had almost no motion, leaving his head stuck to face the swaying canopy of leaves and branches above him. Before he could wonder if he had been completely paralyzed, visions of his future assaulted his mind’s eye.
His body parts were at the wrong places. He was contorted into a quadrupedal creature with additional limbs and torsos—both male and female—that didn’t belong to him. His necks belonged to many people stitched together by their napes, stretched like branches of a tree and each leaf was a flattened head. His own skull—rid of skin, muscle, or hair—was at the very tip of the creature, leading the entire monstrosity.
That was to be his life if he had chosen to remain on the mountain. Truth be told, he had almost looked forward to it, if not for another something bringing him back to his senses.
“The desire did not belong to you, Venry Stepholm,” the voice said as it manifested beside him. A silhouette of a woman formed by the gathering of nearby leaves and sticks sat on a large root that miraculously remained untouched by Venry’s fall. “You do not wish to be reformed as a Nightmare, most of all not one of Those That Fell Off a Cliff. Death would be a mercy compared to a life of endless humiliation and mindlessness.”
“Who are you?” Venry asked, surprised that his voice barely had any strength in it. He was parched and hungry enough to feel a hole in his stomach. He tried to move again and was instantly shot with pain. He winced and immediately hyperventilated.
The woman figure waved a hand. Moments later, Venry felt calm.
“You are nowhere near the prospects of safety nor have you gained enough favor to earn my trust, Venry Stepholm. While your survival correlates to mine, needless information must be kept at a minimum. Your adversaries may choose to pursue you tonight, and you have yet to recover.
“If they capture you, they will probe your memories and your deepest secrets. Secrecy is paramount to my survival; I will not allow you to compromise it. Now, be still and take a deep breath.”
Venry could barely see the figure from his peripheral view, his limited movement left him no choice but to strain his eyes to the side as much as possible. He followed the instruction as the plant woman eased a smooth piece of wood in between his jaw and reached something around his torso that he couldn’t see.
“Prepare yourself, Venry Stepholm,” she said. “Focus on your consciousness. The pain will be unbearable, but you must remain awake if you still wish to see tomorrow.”
Without explaining any further, she yanked.
The world left Venry as the plant lady pulled something from within his innards. His jaws clenched against the wood, snapping them almost instantly. All nocturnal life scampered away as his screams pierced the silence.
He couldn’t understand what was happening, there was only pain, as if he was slowly, meticulously, getting sawed in half. Blood forced themselves up his throat. He regurgitated them under fits of choking coughs, air, sounds, and body fluids clashing within his windpipe.
There was no end to the pain, and Venry held on to his very soul with only the lady’s warning keeping his Siffera instinctively aflame. He was well past Art fatigue and his mental faculties couldn’t afford to make any logical sense of how he could afford the Art without meiyal Milled within his marks.
But he kept it Drawn if only to anchor his consciousness on a focus to keep himself alive, even if every excruciating second felt like years stripping off from his lifeline. Tears fell and sobs mixed with his screams as the pain refused to subside. He wanted it to end, but he refused to die.
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Whatever the plant lady was doing, he only hoped it was so that he could live. The prospects of becoming a part of Those That Fell Off a Cliff didn’t seem so bad after all.
“We’re near the end of the first step, Venry Stepholm,” she said. “Focus and keep your wits about you. Do not succumb to the temptation of Nightmares.”
Despite the encouragement, the whole ordeal seemed to have lasted for hours. Until finally, the plant lady jerked away from his insides. Her hand, made out of branches, vines, and leaves, were soaked in blood. The sight prompted Venry’s sense of smell, the odor of refuse and iron quickly assaulted him but he was desperate for air.
She threw something aside and the stinging high-pitched noise and the throbbing bass of his pulses was accompanied by loud thuds on the ground.
Venry’s adrenaline had left him and his Siffera waned. He began to black out, feeling only the prickly sensation of wood gently tapping his face and the frantic voice of the stranger made out of plants repeatedly calling out his name.
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Venry stirred awake. He found himself in darkness with only a dim light coming from somewhere. Looking from side to side, he found no light source, but the realization of his neck’s recovery snapped him into full awareness.
He commanded himself to sit up. His nerves sent his signals and his muscles began to contract, but the pain flaring on his middle section immediately shot him down.
“Do not fall asleep again, Venry Stepholm,” the voice warned. This time, it was a lady of rock, dirt, and mud massaging her legs into shape. “You’ve costed me more than you know. If you fail to stay awake again—and this time, it is a guarantee—you will die. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Venry said in a forced whisper.
“Good. You cannot afford to sleep tonight. You are fortunate enough as it is. This rock in particular embedded itself in your abdomen as you risked the fall.” The plant—earth—lady presented a jagged rock. It was the size of his arm. Barely dried blood coated half of it. “Keep this as a memento. I believe it’s been charged by your meiyal and could very well serve as a source for your Exhibit. It is only fair, given the grievance it has caused both of us.”
“Thank you.”
The earth lady placed the rock on the ground above his head as she sat beside him. She lifted both hands and hovered them above his body.
Immediately, he felt the effects of healing as well as something pulling away at his soul.
“You cannot wait to recover naturally, Venry Stepholm,” she explained. “Your enemies are close, and I require your services.
“I fear I can only maintain this projection for a few more moments. Hence, we must make haste, including your healing. If I were physically here, believe me, my options would be more practical. As it is, I’m forced to pull from your lifespan to close all your wounds, mend your broken bones, rebuild your nerves, and replace your damaged organs. Your trauma, you have to deal with your own mind.”
Venry accepted this fate, but he had an urgent question.
“How many?” he asked.
“A rough assessment of all your injuries, including the tax of your earlier loss of consciousness…I would estimate full recovery will cost seven years of your natural life.”
Venry nodded. The whole idea of having a predetermined and fixed lifetime went over his head. He understood that the earth lady was using his life as fuel for his healing, he literally could feel it. But if he was being honest, he never once assumed he’d end up living his entire natural life anyway.
In a sense, it was a fair deal.
“What do you need?”
“Ultimately, my rescue. For now, I require you to meet with two other people from Vyndival. A pair of soldiers like yourself; twins. Like you, they’ve recently abandoned their duties.”
Venry’s blood, what was left of it, began to boil. “You expect me to work with them after all they’ve done?”
The earth lady’s smooth stone face turned as if to look at him.
“The entire war was orchestrated, Venry Stepholm. Whether Vyndival achieves victory or not holds no weight on the grand scheme of things. Their king was forced to manipulate his subjects and he chose to bear that responsibility over the massacre of his entire kingdom. Can you handle that burden, Venry Stepholm? That hate? For your entire kingdom to despise you despite saving most of them because all you have is a shallow excuse of your inability to disobey a higher power?”
He met her with silence. Leaving behind his responsibilities were enough proof.
“Regardless of what you think of it, you will require the help of the twins if you are to repay your life debt. From my perspective, word of thanks means nothing. Let your actions show your gratitude.”
Venry sat up straight, no longer hindered by the pain, as if his injuries and disabilities never occurred.
“Fine,” he said reluctantly.
The form of the lady slowly cracked and crumbled.
“Good. You have one hour to Gather and Mill, any more will be a risk to your safety. A nearby Jaws Lurking in the Forest was kind enough to ward away other Nightmares, but she will not defend you against the enemy from the mountains.”
Venry had a lot of questions, but the earth lady gave him no chance to speak. She was rapidly deteriorating.
"I’ve filtered the meiyal around you from the influence of the Nightmare Lands. This should suffice. You are well within the outer reaches of the Void Region. When you proceed, do not, in any circumstance, Gather or Mill or you will risk the influence of the Nightmare. And maintain your Siffera as low as possible.
“Head further east and follow the river until you find an abandoned port. I’ve instructed the twins to meet you there. They will teach you how to survive within the Nightmare Lands. Once I’ve regained my strength, I will show myself to the three of you once again. Follow my instructions, Venry Stepholm. Do not succumb to its influences. Do you understand?”
The earth lady’s form had turned into a pile of stone, mud, and dirt before Venry was able to respond.
The Guard Knight sat cross-legged within the cave, holding the bloody spear-shaped rock that had recently stabbed his abdomen. His eyes staring at the light source coming from the entrance.
He Gathered and Milled.
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