‘Ugh… fu-!’ I sprang upright from laying on my bed to cough up golden blood that had a black tint which was no doubt the curse taking effect upon my body. ringing the bell at my side I waited for the doctor. It didn’t take very long for the doctor to appear in my room with the equipment needed to check my condition. For a week after I woke up, I had gradually been able to let out sounds at the cost of me coughing up blood, no doubt a trick of that witch Ludwig annex the skull king.
“As much as you want to be cleared, young miss. It would wise for you to rest longer.” The doctor said slowly placing me back down into a lying position calling over a couple of maids to keep an eye on me throughout the night which became standard procedure for an entire bloody week. I hated being treated like a child and weakling yet there was nothing I could do about it as I was ill and dying every night. It didn’t take me long to fall asleep, only to wake up in a different place altogether.
A world removed from my own of course, it was either some sort of nightmare or dreamscape potentially a mind prison created by someone to talk to me directly in some way. In my panic, I jolted my head around to look through the black space I found myself in but nothing was in sight aside from a torch in the distance. Upon noticing the torchlight from afar I tried to summon my mana but I felt nothing not even a tiny flicker of mana fireflies.
Unlike all the runes and markings on my body, the runes under my eyes only showed when I would be able to use my mana. As of right now, they didn’t show due to the fact I couldn’t use my mana. Trying to lean through this curve ball I just progressed forward with no sense of where I was going, nor did I know if I was going in any direction at all. Continuing to move my legs, I felt myself touch water which hadn’t become apparent until it reached my waist. This was an effect of the current mindscape and not my own delusions. I knew from past experiences and encounters that most mindscapes were dark, barren wastes. Sometimes this could be things such as a sea of abyssal black water.
Continuing further I came across the same small flicker of light which seemed incredibly out of place as the torchlight was coming from seemed to be on its side. The cracked glass exterior of the lantern showed that something or someone might have been frightened dropping the light in panic cracking the glass and denting the metal keeping it all together. The light flickered from the fireflies that flew inside it, their erratic movements made me attempt to pick up the broken lantern.
Holding the light before me, I was able to see something. It was a large statue with a plinth at the bottom with writing embossed into a silver bronze plate. ‘Hear my name o’betrayers mine… your… be… asant’ with a few words being hardly visible I had a hard time reading the plate on the plinth. Even so, I could understand what this meant, like it was a memory of mine. ‘Hear my name o’betrayers mine may your death be unpleasant.’ I spoke exactly what came to mind and this seemed to open up a pathway forward through the statue.
A blaring flash of light shot through my vision obscuring it quite a bit, covering my eyes as a response I blocked the rays of light from hurting my vision any more than it was along with the burning flashes. When the light settled down, I found myself in a garden rich with vegetation of all kinds from food growing to just some flowerbeds full of blues to reds to even black roses. ‘So, they are here too?’ I asked myself kneeling down, cupping my hand under a clear rose that stood out from the rest like an outsider.
Glass roses were rare to be seen let alone even created in any form. Its mana construction made it unique. Rich in mana whether it be fire or earth mana, this would come in handy as the mana effects would give unique meanings to the glass roses. My knowledge is limited on the meanings as I wasn’t one to push into flower stuff but I did know in my experience glass roses were seen as something used for a boutique at a wedding just their red counterpart.
Picking up the glass rose delicately made something speak out behind me.
“It’s been a while since something has visited this place.” I turned on my feet to face behind me, where the female voice resounded from and a few paces from me stood a tall woman around six foot six looking down at me. Sapphire azure eyes of the blessed lingered on my chest. Dropping the flower on impulse, made it shatter sending the mana out around us. Its lightning deviancy clung to me. The female a few paces from me smiled, in a way I could tell she would not attempt to attack me.
“Who are you?” I asked putting my arms to my side still holding the broken lantern in my hand not realizing the light had gone out. The blonde figure spoke again, this time stepping closer with a click of her fingers fading the white angelic forged armour from her body.
“I’m Artura Pendragon… your ancestor and you to be exact.” She spoke sending my mind into a frenzy as I registered everything. She was my ancestor, and she was also… me. I frankly looked over her like I was about to pull something off her in a crazed state. Controlling myself I listened to what she said next which didn’t help my quaking mental state at all.
“This will take a while to process… I think.” She spoke as if it wouldn’t. “My name is Artura Pendragon and I’m a past reincarnation… not your first life. You had so many before of which even I’ve forgotten them. Anyway, you’re here because your body isn’t reacting well to your curse at all well the origin of all curses.” she paused to breathe a moment through her monologue I took a step back now gripping my chest feeling my heart pound a strained restlessness. The thumping of its inconsistent beat could be felt in my temples down to the tips of each toe.
My subconscious going into overload came up with all sorts of ideas and speculations about everything I was hearing. “I know it’s a lot, so I’ll explain from the beginning.” Artura spoke making my heart calm down for a split second before going back to beating remarkably fast for a heart attached to a curse of literal death.
“You are me and I’m you. From what I’m allowed to tell you… you are a reincarnation of a being destined to kill another reincarnation though I don’t know which one. Rias?” Artura cocked her head as I placed my still free hand over my left eye feeling as if it was there, even though it was I couldn’t see out of it nor could I feel my left arm. “I guess it’s true…” she mumbled under the breath of her own lungs and loud heartbeat that matched my soul along with the significant amount of mana. Taking another step back from a life I had, a flash of darkness then flooded my head with droves of memories coming back to me in one.
I screamed out in pain feeling everything from the very first heartbreak to my eventual death at the hands of Ludwig and mordid one of my knights who was always one who showed strength. A life I had forgotten came to me as a waking dream, I kept screaming as I felt death after death being resurrected because of the curse artura hel- no the curse I held and still hold. Crying out in pain, I reached to rip out my own heart but stopped short sensing something in my head reach out. Memories of happiness and joy shone through, me with a family.
‘A daughter? No two?’ I remembered in that life I had two daughters when I was the queen of Rosa. One was a homunculus with the soul of a dragon, named my daughter Seris after the dragon who gave up their soul for the child. The second was someone I saw as a daughter Jasmine. A dragon basilisk hybrid called a gestalt. I had a son who I lost due to illness who I named Arthur a play on my father’s name Uther. Seeing this I looked up at my former self who knelt down placing a hand on my side where Ludwig stabbed me resulting in my eventual death along with looking at the fully cursed ashen black left arm.
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“Even in this life he did the unthinkable… we shouldn’t hide this not even under a glove.” She said helping me stand as the landscape around us changed with my eyes fixed on my former self, she motioned for me to turn around and look at Rosa. “Do you know where we are?” She asked from my side. I shook my head looking at the world around me, a space of utter darkness. Decaying trees of malcontent covered in barbed thorns of aether that rotted the very earth, the mana being evaporated into the acid black dust clouds above us that rained ice.
“This is Charon’s gate. It’s what the other races call it but humans call it a realm of black but we call…”
“Chernobyl. The acid fields of Camlan.” I spoke plain looking out at the place which was no doubt real. In the distance, I saw one singular building remain after around five thousand years, a runic gateway or warp gate to no doubt where I was buried… to the ruins of castle city Camelot. I closed my eyes hearing the screams of anguish that I caused creating these very fields after my father betrayed me to put my brother on the throne. All of onrath would have been consumed if it wasn’t for Morgana who saved me, Nimue and Hera from the deepest pits of Helheimr.
“Do you remember what happened in this place at the end of our life?” She asked herself in a sense. At first, I didn’t speak as I recalled everything that happened. I decided to go to Chornobyl and fight mordid along with Ludwig. I recalled the long march towards Chornobyl with the eventual battle afterward where I slew mordid on aethna my black dragon. The most important thing I recalled was my fight with Ludwig and how I tore him apart until I was killed by his blade the halberd necropolis. “Ludwig killed us with necropolis that blasted halberd. Excalibur couldn’t do anything being shattered in the fight didn’t help.” My old self said taking a few steps forward.
“Red death.” I said looking towards the earth picking up a single metal fragment that pricked up through the cracked hard ground of Chernobyl. “That’s what re-named Excalibur to in the end as we plunged the broken remains into Ludwig’s shoulder. Why couldn’t… I killed him?!” I gritted my teeth in frustration avoiding eye contact with my old self who was looking directly at me. That being whatever he was at this point wasn’t the same knight I once knew and killed.
“Ah yes… we killed him, yet he lives. We aren’t strong enough to reach him, so… right now what’s the thing you want most?” She asked knowing what I wanted. The whole reason I became a queen's guard and a knight.
“I want to kill the maiden… rip her apart. Tear her limb from limb. Revenge for killing my father, I’ll do anything to kill her even sacrifice my core!” I exclaimed practically shouting to artura who was wide-eyed seeing my resolve to a goal that I will fulfill even if I die in the process, nothing will get in my way not even the royal family or that bastard child Harmon.
Artura started to laugh walking ahead motioning me to follow. Quickly picking up my pace and followed not knowing where we were going but something was clear we headed in the direction of the ruins of Camelot.
…
Entering the ruins of Camelot I could feel bile and blood flow up my throat. Seeing the thousands of charred remains burnt into the ground, this didn’t fill me with pride more of a misery. I felt hollow, empty or a husk inhabiting a body I didn’t belong to and shouldn’t belong to which felt right in a sense. This brought a thought to my head ‘How should mine and Talia’s relationship be viewed now?’
Even though I was only just remembering about a former life it somewhat creeped me out because I had been artura since birth and before that in my former life yet Talia was well sixteen though she was wraith reincarnated I couldn’t be sure how old she was as wraith’s once reborn should never remember their former life unless they can in some form like a cursed being such as myself.
Stepping over body after body I made my way towards the keep of the city following closely behind my former self who was at this point more than a figment of my imagination to give me guidance or an afterimage. She was definitely real as we could converse without knowing what we were thinking even having our own personalities yet the sense of her being a trick of the mind remained. In way this was a reprieve not being completely sure, keeping the thought inside my mind far away from any straying beliefs.
Turning corner after corner we continued walking down streets that reminded me of how much of a warmonger I was, a monster in a human body. Many used to describe to the point even the eldritch became afraid of me. Even before I killed eldritch gods, Valkyries and betrayers they feared my growing power just because of who I was. Before I was twenty-three I formed an empire and conquered three realms those realms being Ashrith, onrath and Tramon by using a small army of twenty thousand including a multiverse-eating dragon. At that point, I still didn’t have Excalibur, until I reached twenty-five when I killed my father and brother.
My brother used Excalibur as his sword which technically in law made him the rightful ruler of rosa yet since I bonded with aethna when I was young… all of this however wasn’t the reason I felt sick to my stomach seeing the destruction of Camelot which was called the black crusade by Guinevere that mind reaping bitch.
“When Guinevere did this to Camelot… the kingdoms couldn’t understand our anger but Nimue and Hera did…” artura’s voice slowed as we recounted everything from the green fire of her necrotic beast to the screams of children that lasted for days on end making it hard for anyone to sleep, Guinevere blamed it on the knights besides mordid, Lancelot her lover and Harmon the ancestor of the current king of riel. When I returned home my army turned against me, my knights imprisoned and my people dying.
“I killed every knight, every noble. Every single person who stood in the way. When I saw Guinevere, I didn’t even think about the consequences and launched for her, but our mother used magic to stop us.” I said in return coming to my old self’s side looking towards the ruined keep that stood before us, hardly of its gothic architecture remained. “I killed my mother and then I clashed with mordid cutting out his eyes and ripping Lancelot’s throat. After that I…” I paused steeping into the building remembering to see the bloodied face of Jasmine and seris being hugged by Nimue and monarch.
“I punched Guinevere to her knees as she laughed asking me if I liked her present but all I said in return was. ‘I’d rather see the world burn than see her mindless actions again’. I took off her head. She still smiled as the light faded from her eyes.” Speaking and not taking my eyes off the throne. The golden remnants of the throne faded beyond repair the cloth was torn and molded from years of being exposed to elements. Slowly I drifted my hand across the throne. I remembered the feeling of sitting on it at twenty-five all the way to my death at forty years of age.
My old self stared at me with contempt as we no she hated sitting on it. Its very feeling was taxing on the mind let alone the body. This very throne established that I was the powerhouse of every race and even the gods. “Guinevere never suited the throne she had beside me, Nimue suited it more.” I smiled no hint of regret on my face or in my hollow eyes.
“How does it feel to place your hand on that throne?” My old self asked inquisitively watching me walk from the throne down the marble dais towards the tapestry that hung torn on the left wall. It hung opposite to where large glass windows were once placed to look out at the fields of rosa.
“Not the greatest feeling I’ll give it that. After how much harm I’ve caused I don’t think I’ll ever think of sitting on this as a good thing. I suppose the deaths that have exposed themselves to this throne will never make it easy to sit on it again well not this one anyway.” I chuckled turning my gaze from the throne to the tapestry on the ruined wall which I could remember better than see before me with my own eyes. The torn tapestry which once hung up torn was a painting of a story about a small girl no older than fifteen pray to the goddess Sif for a saviour. In return, the goddess gave the girl a black dragon and named the dragon hadriel.
“What's the real reason I’m here?” I asked releasing I could talk with my own cords.
“Well… as you can tell your outside but other than that it’s to give you these.” My old self made a set of armour with a crown and a sword. The armour was black in colour with a slight tonal hue of ash silver. The entire set of the gothic black armour was adorned with golden details. Golden cotton fabric hung from the hips under the metallic rustic black faulds and tassets. Metallic barbed formed wrapped around the gauntlets in a way that wouldn’t hurt you when putting on or taking off the armour. Twelve straps of material hung from underneath the left shoulder pauldron.
“This is all yours from now on.” My old self said walking a few steps back and disappearing into thin strands of golden sand. Placing my hand against the armour feeling for its rough texture along with the sharp edges. Hung over the shoulder and back of the armour was a sword of black. Created and forged in the same of my odachi. It’s shape resembled that of a gothic runic carved longsword. Taking my eyes off the blade for a second, I hadn’t noticed the fur that lined the armour neckline and collar. The metallic plates of the back piece had an open back feature that made it easy to see the runes tattooed down my spine.
The last two things I looked at before going back to the blade were a scarf that extended upwards to cover my face to just below my eyes, and the last thing I laid my eyes upon was a matte black ash grey metal crown of spiked thorns that would sit just above my eyes protecting my temples from harm. Putting on the armour was quite the challenge at first. After placing the suit of armour on the metal practically molded itself around me like it was some sort of living organism or symbiotic parasite.
After I placed on the gothic open back armour and the neck scarf that covered my face, I reached for the spiked crown of thorns. The thorned crown whispered something unintelligible. Paying it no mind I reached for it. Placing it upon my head, I could feel its weight come onto me, it was by no means a light crown.
“Red death- the sword of crimson retaliation.” I spoke under my breath pulling the remnants of the once shattered blade out of its blood-red splattered white sheath that sat nestled over my back which looked black at first. The crimson blade now reforged was different compared to the usual longsword design. Spiked cutouts were present near the crimson-toned guard which was inflated with a golden crystal of ambrosia, a flower buried inside the guard itself. gripping the sword tight the leather-wrapped handle felt hefty. Sliding my left hand across the pommel which was in the shape of a lunar tear that matched the rose engraved into the blade along with a script I couldn’t read but knew the name of called Malphent’s script.
Suddenly I clutched my chest feeling my body elongate into the form of a winged bird.