Rias pendragon
“You're progressing well!” Tŷr laughed cheerfully. The ground trembled under the weight of my odachi and týr’s Ulfberht clashing, the force of our weapons was enough to knock both Morrigan and Akron off their feet. Taking my eyes off týr for one second was a brutal mistake as my concentration slipped at the sudden force of him bashing me to the side of my ribs. The blow cracked a few ribs. Keeping myself upright feeling the ribs twist I brought up my left hand towards týr’s face. He quickly blocked my punch at the cost of me shattering a piece of his shield.
“A bit rough around the edges but you’ll get the hang of it. I do wonder though why aren’t you using your mana?” týr asked his voice fading from my hearing as I knelt to the ground picking up my ōdachi.
“I can’t control it after my outburst in the prison.” I muttered under my breath remembering the times I was sexually assaulted by the guards. On one of the few times, I lost my composure and used fire mana to burn the guard to a crisp before I ultimately burnt my own hand to a crisp. Seemingly after that, I was no longer able to control my own mana, not even being able to manage a basic fire spell which hurt my core to even use. I explained this to týr also including the fact that the spike metal crown did not help either.
Silence filled the area as I held my ōdachi to my side. Týr didn’t offer any words of rest, just telling me to focus on the now as I can’t change the past even if I could control time. Týr didn’t say much to me nor did anyone else as they continued to train me to keep up my pace while in fights. In these moments I’d have to wrestle with trying my hardest to not use riftstep or rely on my magic like I had done as a knight. Though it was tricky at first for the first couple weeks I soon got the hang of it. Slowly. Nearing the end of training in a day with týr, it was harder to keep my magic settled but I wouldn’t slip up into using it.
Golden fire spluttered from my core directly onto my blade causing a rift to form in my chest that caused an explosive reaction across my blade. Luckily, I had my crown on hand so some of the power was dampened nevertheless it was unexpected for all of us seeing several lines of trees burnt down to the stump. Quickly put out by Morrigan’s ice mana stopping it from harming any wildlife. ‘Wha- Just happened?’ I couldn’t believe it placing my hand against my left eye I felt a flame over it even across my left arm.
Feeling the burning sensation of heat from my golden fire, It was comfortable. I didn’t shake it off just proceeded to clench and unclench my hand whilst closing and reopening my left eye. The strange feeling that was brought on was something of a tramonic design that I could feel every time my blood ran black. Dropping my ōdachi I knelt onto the ground closing both eyes I shifted my body and form to that of when I awoke after Ludwig killed me. In this form I could see into my core unobstructed and within it something rested on the verge of rupturing. Though I couldn’t see it fully I knew everything had appeared along with the sensation of being touched just above my waist. Both lightning and flaming runes had the fluttering feeling similar to heat from embarrassment.
Keeping my eyes closed I began to sit in a cross-legged position keeping my hands clasped around my knees tight but not a vice-bearing amount. Feeling for the mana I grabbed hold of the strings that bound itself around my- ‘mechanical core? What?’ I thought not seeing the core I had when I met Ludwig, but it was reformed as it evolved into an eclipse. My core was no longer glass. It held attributes of being a machine in how it moves and keeps mana flowing, they were also gone.
Placing my soul hand onto the core, I was transported to somewhere that felt rough. Suddenly opening my eyes, I could only see burning ash and black sand. Trying my best to stand I quickly soon realised I couldn’t feel my left arm from my shoulder downwards. Taking one look with my right eye which seemed to be the only one present I came to the realisation I didn’t have my left arm. Trying to not panic like I did in that black dream I tried to be grounded with the slight discomfort of being barefooted on black sand.
Turning my gaze to the front, a sudden beat stopped my breathing. Taking one look down I felt a lot of discomfort realising I had a hole in my chest potentially the size of a large ball used for throwing in a sport. Quickly taking my eyes off it, I frantically looked around seeing nothing but sand and golden fire. even attempting to run didn’t seem to help as I just returned to the place where this dreamscape began. Though I felt grounded on the black sand something still felt amiss. Keeping my eyes forward this time, I closed them and reopened them trying to picture potentially what I’m meant to see.
A lone wolf sat beside a grave. Its black fur was dark as a shadow its eyes peered into my soul like it was desperately looking for something, its golden eyes were in contrast of my own but brighter. More life to them. Taking a few steps forward I followed the wolf's gaze towards the grave noticing what was written on it. Trying my focus, I read the words upon the grey stone to no avail after a second though a stabbing pain shocked my temples. This pain changed my mind to be able to read the language I knew as Malphent’s script. I could understand it a lot better, now fluent in this language.
‘Here lies the queen of thorns. General ashfire. Marin kalos.’ The wolf suddenly howled. My mind’s will placed my hand against the stone changing the seen entirely to another place one of similar feel and yet so different. From a grave site to that of a war bound in sorrow and despair. The golden fire remained and so did the black ground but this time it was a throne, not a grave. Following the wolf some more I stood before the throne looking down at it longingly like it was once mine.
As I went to place my hand upon the armrest the wolf spoke in my own voice. I couldn’t figure out if it was my own mind trying to protect or lie to me, I listened to its words caring ever so little about them.
“Revenge. Deceit. Lies. Death. Resurrection and reincarnation even regression. Your lives are paved by these things.” The voice was my own, ethereal and dead from a lifelong forgotten. Turning my long full gaze from the throne to stare at the wolf who seemed to recoil at my sudden look and their own eyes turned from a calm look to shaking anger. I found no comfort in its eyes now, the wolf seemed like my own inner monologue taking shape as a warning to myself.
It spoke more in mourning. Closing my eyes I placed my hand upon the throne, instead of being teleported somewhere, a vivid memory long forgotten from my mind or even one yet to come became clear playing out like a physical theatre play.
The memory consisted of three figures. One on the throne who watched on as a ten-tailed fox argued with a mage who wore the robes of a healer. All three were female and none of them looked remotely like me at first glance. The two figures did feel familiar, the healer seemed to look like an older more mature self of Alex and the ten-tailed fox reminded me of Monarch, the stubbornness was hers. The person sitting on the throne was potentially Talia or someone of her kin, I couldn’t quite tell as all I saw was a purple eye.
“We must retaliate against them! We can’t just sit here and do nothing!” The kitsune shouted throwing her arms about trying maybe grab the person on the throne’s attention.
“That’s foolish! We would all just die!” The more mature-looking Alex shouted in reply.
“Quiet both of you. My wife is ill, and I am currently infected with a curse that should’ve killed me… Talos is not being thoughtless like us… why must I retaliate when I’m going to die so soon?” The person seemed to have a rasp, brought on by the curse whatever it was, the more they spoke, the more my mind pictured them better from their chiselled jawline to their muscular shoulders even the lofty waves of the darkness in her hair. She wore armour just like mine even a crown just like. Mine. Whoever this was I was connected to them.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
When I could finally see her face, it resembled mine. One eye was golden dimmed by the light, but the other was pink no purple with a hint of green reminiscent of dark aether. Her left arm was replaced by a mechanical one with clawed fingers. The gothic design extended from the finger to the shoulder to represent the feeling of losing a part of you. Something I could understand well. It felt as if they were… me. I reeled back coming back from the memory. staring at the wolf who shook their head moving to another memory. I followed this, slightly less focused on my surroundings now.
Where we moved to was a battlefield. No fire remained on this battle, two beings stood alone. One held an ōdachi and another held a large great sword in one hand and a large axe in the other. Both bleeding heavily, both bleeding golden blood. I watched them fight, weapons clashed. Sparks flew from the metal that clashed, the ground began to burn with an intense passion, with my core strained tearing itself further and further apart as I watched on.
The fighting soon came to an end when the broader of the two figures holding the two weapons fell to the ground covered in their golden blood and began to laugh. Through his laughter, their own final words could be heard. They weren’t of anger like one would think or speculate. their final words were out of respect and a plea.
“I knew you could do it… oh, Marin please seal our father in the depths of deceit. You are the greatest of us all.” Tears began to flow from my left eye directly as they flowed from the being that loomed over her brother. ‘How do I know?’ She gripped her ōdachi tight making the wood of the handle whine. The metal churned as it shrunk under the heat of the flame from its user. The memory moved even still to another location of a time maybe months after what I just saw. The wolf howled as everyone turned to dust and one figure remained.
A being cloaked in a golden cloth and white shadow struggled to keep something in place, something they called the veil. The only thing keeping the veil in place was a crown of spiked metal thorns that wrapped around the entire head. Something was placed before this veil or seal to guard it, its piercing golden eye remained open watching over this seal that bared her father from leaving his prison.
As if I was present the figure in the golden cloth and white shadow spoke slowly directly into my soul. For whatever reason they spoke directly to me and not the wolf-like figure that began to dissipate into the sands of time. Wanting to know the truth I tried to speak up, but no words came out. ‘Is this me from a past not yet known?’
“You are not ready for the whole truth as of yet, but you will soon.” The being spoke waving. I couldn’t take my eyes off the person who stood before me. I wanted to speak again but the soul body I was in was restricted a lot more than when I spoke to artura another previous self of mine. ‘Is this person Marin or someone else I should remember from my past?’ I thought being drawn towards the physical manifestation in front of me.
When I reached this being, its soft but calloused hand stroked my cheek across where a scar appeared from just below my hairline down to my chin where she raised my head slightly. a bit stunned I tried my best to pull back and came to realise that my body was frozen. The hole in my chest soon faded the same moment my left eye healed with my left arm not being cut off or consumed by flames. The being didn’t speak as they placed their index and middle finger on my neck.
A palpable burning heat came to my neck. Now being able to move at least my arm, I grabbed my throat. Able to use my fire mana without restriction or resistance of any kind pretty much no need for my crown to control it. This feeling of being able to use mana was similar to gaining lightning mana from Artura. ‘I’ll still need the crown for the lightning mana then I suppose’. I thought looking at the being who spoke in Malphent’s script a more civilised and less broken version of it.
“I’m not your first life but one of many.” She spoke floating towards me. As she floated towards me, I could note certain things about her appearance. A golden runic sleeve covered her left arm and hand from fingertip to shoulder blade. Who I assumed was Marin Kalos, held out her left hand before me non-flinching. In response to her holding out her hand, I lifted my right hand adjacent to her left, this slowly formed an orb in the gap between our palms.
The angelic orb instantaneously began to move anticlockwise making a reverberated booming bass sound. The booming bass sound that rang through the both of us, followed the condensing and rupturing rhythm of the orb. Soon memories filled my mind. A life I had forgotten. From the childhood memories of love and peace to the dark memories of war under the banner of Talos bringing kingdoms and pantheons to their knees. Just like remembering my life as artura one memory stuck out to me. My fight against the roaring tide of hearth.
The day I began to second guess my faith in Talos and the day I became the first fallen. One of five… though a lot of my memory was blacked out like a classified document given by higher-ups in the knighthood. From the limited memories I could actually see I could gather that my conscious wasn’t ready to remember everything of that life or potentially the one before it. Looking Marin in the eyes she shook her head turning away from me and just proceeding to point towards a door of light.
For a moment I didn’t speak going so far as to not even look at my previous self before me. The orb that stayed in Marin’s hand slowly crumbled into dust the further I walked from her and a past I should fully remember. ‘Looks like I’m too scared to remember it or face it.’ I thought stepping towards the door of light that felt warm to the touch. There was a burning sensation that came and went a few times after I placed my hand against the light which didn't feel divine.
“Ain’t no way this is divine light.” I chuckled to myself stepping into the light. Thinking I was about to fall I braced myself for a heavy impact, yet I found myself in another world removed from the physical. Buildings and structures upside down, inverted or otherwise misshapen mixed in with buildings that should be the right way up. It felt like I was looking at a painting of optic illusion or something to mess with the mind. Taking a look around while assessing my surroundings I came to see that this space stretched for miles with no concrete look to it. No two buildings looked the same or were placed exactly the same which was interesting, to say the least.
I reached out to Luna to see if I could speak to her but no connection could be felt.
Not being able to talk to Luna I progressed up the staircase that led towards a large white building of gothic design similar to a grand church or cathedral. Keeping my wits about me I took step after step feeling the weight lift from around me, each step I took sent out a small wave of light wind with a silver-blue chrome, this wave of light was in fact incorporeal yet in the same vein I could touch it with my own flesh. Paying it no mind further I progressed up the pristine white stairs.
I carefully watched my surroundings seeing even the sky begin to fall towards me. ‘Is it Breathing?’ it had a pattern to it like it was following the beat of a drum or a bleeding heart. Continuing to walk up the steps of the staircase listening closer to my surroundings every noise every beating boom of the sky’s bleeding heart even the whining groan of the metaphorical churning of inverted towers. Minute sounds of glass shattering, and buildings crushing Into each other were far-off sounds that I could barely hear.
All sounds weren’t as loud as the knocking of the bell upon the white cathedral above me in this white city. With each step, the bell rang causing snow to fall around me and onto me in unexpected fashions. Halfway up the stairs, I came to a stop looking at how far I had left whilst seeing how far I had progressed, though the time hadn’t been long in my head it had been on walking. I could no longer see the beginning of my journey just like I couldn’t remember my first life. ‘so is this a metaphor for me to endlessly climb until I remember?’
Resuming my journey towards the cathedral I summoned my ōdachi to my hand feeling for its weight, I summoned my crown to sit upon my head feeling for its weight as well just to be on the safe side. This stone-white city responded in kind, and everything started to change, buildings came to a screeching halt, the sky softened in movements, the beat of its heart slowed. The ringing of the bell slowed to a steady pace like that of times changing, the garments I had on before coming to this white world changed to that of the black tasselled clothes, I had created by the tailor which I was given the day before my execution.
‘No symbol of allegiance.’ I thought hitting the top step a few metres from the doors of the cathedral... Taking a breath, I placed my ōdachi at the back of my waist, from where a sheath resided. Sheathing my weapon alerted the four statues that stood beside the large cathedral doors. Two on either side of the doors clasped their hands together gripping a longsword each, where the pommel should have been, a Bordeaux wine glass shape of interwoven spirals of stone were placed.
These sword pommels whatever they were held one flame. ‘each flame for my lives? No…’ My thoughts trailed as I looked at the statues. Only one flame was fully visible as that was the one for Marin’s remembrance, as I began to call them. My current life was shared with another this was the same as my life as artura shared with another. The four flames represented eight lives corresponding with different statues. My current life shared a flame with artura, Marin’s life shared a flame with another. So on and so forth.
‘Maybe… each life holds a key of some kind.’ This thought came about since I remembered my life as Marin partly. I could use fire mana unhindered in any way not even constrained if that made any difference. Walking towards my own statue I placed my hand on it, and a shock pulsed through my hand, reeling it back. The vibrations of the shock ached my bones to the bloodstream. Continuing this thought I placed my hand on each statue apart from Marin’s. I received the same shock every time.
“Okay, last attempt?” I asked myself to place my hand on Marin’s statue which did nothing at first. When I dropped my hand from the statue it began to move anticlockwise to face the door. The churning of the stone made my skin crawl ever so slightly, the further I got from the statue and closer to the white cathedral doors. Feeling for my core I pushed all my mana of fire into my arms after I placed my hands firmly on the wood.
Closing my eyes, I pushed incredibly hard against the doors. Slowly they opened under my weight. The longer I pushed with more force they opened further and further. When entering the cathedral, I was met with a scene of all white accompanied by silence. The only things I could see were rows of pews, an altar that sat upon a dais just before a large statue of a female winged warrior, not a Valkyrie nor an angel but something else.
Two doves sat upon a water basin that was centred upon the altar. ‘I hope it isn’t riddles.’