Once the formation storing magic was filled, it moved towards the zone Velvet was in, circling her several times, lighting her surroundings in a spiral, before starting to climb through her legs.
Despite the red light, it was cold to the touch, giving her goosebumps under her clothes as it went up, towards her heart, circling at the center of her chest, the red light progressively darkening and thickening, becoming pitch black.
Then it went further away from her in a straight line, a meter or so, before starting to accumulate in a floating sphere, its color so dark it began swallowing the surrounding light.
And, behind what was happening outside her body, something dug inside, reaching the spot the Deriliam had touched before, deep inside her heart.
And, she felt part of the magic going right in. Dianthus’ magic.
Velvet pressed her lips in a thin line, trying not to laugh or alert Cardomos.
So now we’re stealing from thieves?
She wasn’t complaining though, if she could store some of Dianthus power for later, she would do so. He had unlimited power, after all. It was like stealing buckets of water from the sea. And Cardomos had no way of knowing what she was doing, since this type of ritual couldn’t be replicated in the past, thus giving him some idea of the time needed to activate the formation.
It might just take a little longer, but anyway.
The black sphere continued growing, swallowing the space around it, warping reality as it formed, as if the shape itself was crossing everything at once, and nothing at all. Apparently devoid of weight, Velvet felt inclined to touch it, as to see where it went, yet her common sense triumphed over her curiosity, making her remain still.
Her only connection with it was the thin, frail, spiraling thread between them that was being absorbed like a ball of yarn.
And then, the sphere overflowed. A single drop at first, falling into the ground, tainting the formation under, followed by another, and then another, a small stream devoid of light, sinking into a puddle below Velvet. She didn’t move, and the black water didn’t touch her, not even getting close enough to be a threat.
No, it simply circled her, avoiding Velvet so as not even a single drop could splash her accidentally. Its movements were so deliberate, she started having guesses about the darkness having some sentience, or even life of its own.
As the puddle grew, painting the formation in black, Cardomos remained still, situated at the edge, looking down.
Then he took a step forward, his body being surrounded in a white light for an instant, becoming a silver, worn out armor that covered his whole body, including his face, right before stepping into the substance, the metallic boot sinking into the waters.
By the sound and Cardomos’ movements, Velvet deduced that the apparently weightless, thin liquid was extremely thick, sticking to his soles like glue.
He even sank a bit, his stature going lower than it would be possible if the floor was… well, doing its job. But instead, the puddle worked like quicksand, slowly swallowing his legs.
And then, the chains came. Not the frail, weak ones Velvet summoned, but the ones from her dream, the immense, overwhelming ones. The ones that spoke, wrapping across Cardomos’ leg, bending the silver plate under the strength of its grip, intending to crush his leg.
Even more chains came out, grabbing his arms, neck and torso, the strain of its constriction making a screeching, metalling noise.
Yet neither Cardomos, nor the Goddess of Death, who was watching from the sidelines, acted startled, reassuring Velvet. Cardomos simply grabbed the chain wrapped around his neck, the most dangerous one, and spoke.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Custodian, I know your name.”
The scraping, strained sound stopped instantly, replaced by a pull that swallowed Cardomos whole into the black liquid.
Velvet followed suit, just that not physically. Sitting on the ground she tested that the water did in fact move away from her, and thus, she laid down on the dirty floor, activating a sleeping charm, quickly falling asleep.
The last thing she heard was a crash, but paid it no mind. If it was important, Hyde would wake her up.
…
As always, the dream was pitch black, the only visible thing being the Chained Man himself, deep into the darkness.
Cardomos was nowhere to be seen, but that was probably because Velvet got there faster, not needing to be dragged down by the chains. And, speaking of the chains, Velvet felt them moving around, altered, the whole dream trembling.
And then, the chains grabbed her, coiling around her wrist, just that, unlike Cardomos, who had the armor, the chains went under her skin, entering the flesh and wrapping the bones underneath, one of the chains even going between the radius and the ulna.
It was all a dream, Velvet told herself. The wounds were fake, and the pain would be gone when she woke up. The only aftermath from that other time were the blobs of black mass resembling maggots coming from her skin and that was it. So she didn’t think much about it, searching for traces of Cardomo-
Something softer than the chains grabbed her hand, tugging at it. Softer as in, skin. Not the Chained Man’s, and not Cardomos’, who was wearing armor the last time she’d seen him. No. Soft, warm and living skin, with fingers like hers, calling for her attention. So, Velvet looked down.
Towards the second per- being that she had seen belonging to the dream, the thing behind, or, inside the chains.
What Cardomos had called the Custodian. What Velvet had called the Chains.
A woman that reminded Velvet of mermaids at night, the same ones coming out from the depths of the black sea, clutching the edges of ships with their delicate hands, the ones hiding claws, singing with their beautiful voices, the ones hiding teeth. Pale skin, long white hair that got lost inside the darkness, as if someone had stolen all the color from her.
All the colors except the one in her eyes, completely red.
Her lower body, the part Velvet could see, was formed by the chains, the same ones that blended into the dream, proving that she was part of it.
When she opened her mouth, black liquid spilled down her chin, the same one that had covered Cardomos’ formation.
“My name… give me my name…”
She recognized that face. It resembled the Priestess from her vision, the one that worked under a four-handed god.
Resembled, not the same as hers. Maybe it was her sister, or mother, or daughter. She had no way of knowing, it depended on the timeline when it happened. But they were related, closely related, Velvet was sure of that.
What she wasn’t as sure of was her name.
I wasn’t the one who said that… you got the wrong mage. Not like she dared to say so, at least, not as bluntly. “The other mage is the one with your name, the armored one.”
For a moment, the Custodian fell silent, but the chains connected to her moved, and with them, the whole dream. Even the formation that remained hidden between a True Name got affected, tainting the black dream in a red light.
And then, a spot of silver appeared, dragged by chains.
“My name, my name…” The Custodian said, letting go of Velvet with incredible ease, the chains releasing her bones and flesh in an instant, as she sank back into the dream, repairing close to Cardomos.
Velvet took two steps back, planning on remaining an observer, not a participant. She saw the chains around Cardomos tighten, trying to drag him down, but he didn’t move. All the frailesness and age she had seen previously were gone, and what now stood before her was the real Ashen Arbiter.
Yet the Custodian cared not for that, her upper body out of the void again. “Give it back, my name…”
Her hands grabbed Cardomos’ legs, yet he ignored her, looking up. “The one that took your name will come soon.”
Velvet followed his gaze, up into the sky, before shutting her eyes at the next second, averting her face.
Because the formation that she activated in the past, the one that almost killed her was untying itself. Not like a door being burned down, but a door which was opening because the owner arrived with the key.
Andras Apolyon was coming into the dream.