The stone basin was carved in a similar way to that of a traditional temple for religious ceremonies. The altar on the other hand seemed to be constructed through magic especially using creation magic perhaps of Pthulminth origin or primordial. Creation magic simply put is a type of power that enables you to create things that are desired by its user, however, it does have some constraints. Creations can only be done if they fit within the rules of their bound space. If you took creation magic out of a bound space on the other hand you could do anything even create chains out of time or a sword made to cut fate.
“I run like a river, crimson is my colour. I drip from the living wound what am I?” The doves spoke in unison pecking at each other. ‘It has to be blood right?’
“Place your answer in the basin.” The doves spoke once again. Wasting no effort, I lifted my left hand over the basin with my palm up. Grabbing a blade that sat neatly upon the altar’s cover I hovered over my hand for just a second. Digging the blade into my skin slightly and dragged it across my palm to expose my hand to the elements. As my palm began to open with a wound blood dripped out into the water. As soon as the water and blood mixed the doves chirped in excitement, flapping their wings boldly.
‘Well that felt easy and… flat?’ I monologued watching the doves fly upwards to the rafters of the white cathedral. They were unnatural creations with the ability to speak only riddles, yet they could communicate.
The doves seemed to be a creation of this place wherever I was meant to be. Searching through my available memories I couldn’t find a single thing that showed any sign of being in this place not even a warp gate in my mind existed to this place. The more I searched the more I couldn’t find a single thing that showed this place then again until this life I hadn’t had such experiences like this of remembering a past. ‘I still have gaps to fill it seems.’ My thoughts weren’t far off. Even so, this place was familiar to me, its concept did seem familiar at the very least.
Though I remembered both my lives as Marin and artura there were many gaps in both lives of blacked-out memories and scratch markings over faces like my subconscious was hoping I wouldn’t remember. Giving up on the idea of remembering this place as a whole I moved from the basin to pick a bandage that was conveniently placed on the edge of a white pew to my right. Picking up the bandage I wrapped it around my open wound still heavily bleeding, as the bandage had far more material than I thought, allowing some to hang from my fingers.
Before moving past the Altar placed upon a clear marble dais, I couldn’t take my eyes off the statue behind it. The statue was carved from a twelve metre high block of moonstone which itself was upon a plinth of limestone. The statue was carved into the shape of something from my past. My life as Marin to be precise. It was a statue of the sororitias or sisterhood as the Pthulminth culture would call it unlike the books and myths surrounding them.
More powerful than Valkyries and angels who could kill eldritch gods and nihilist deities. The sororitias on the other hand were fashioned and created through my blood to kill Talos’s pantheon who are even more powerful than the weakened primordials of today, even Arawn the current most powerful primordial. This fact however cannot be proven as there is no record of such a thing being recorded in remaining texts, if any even exist. ‘I’m getting sidetracked.’
I shook my head placing my hand upon the plinth. After I placed my hand upon the cold plinth memories of the sororitias filled my mind, in those memories one figure stuck out to me. The statue carved in front of my eyes was of the first and the strongest sisterhood knight, Ciaran my apostle dragonslayer or as the myths call her the one-winged Sonne.
Sigh… “I hope I can see you again Ciaran.” My inner thoughts leaked through my words remembering all the times I fought alongside Ciaran till she died on the battlefield still standing on her feet. she once served Talos and my brother but after I lost faith. She followed suit after I convinced her that we had done worse than good, we had made Talos more powerful. Thinking on it now Talos even before his sealing wouldn’t be as powerful as oryan the eldritch god-king.
Dropping my hand from the plinth I looked up to see the statue begin to cry blood. It was a bit thinner in texture. Still, I could tell that it was blood, aged blood. The sudden dripping of blood caused a mechanism to start moving the statue backwards towards the stained glass of the cathedral behind. This action revealed a large staircase into a very dark room which I couldn’t see the entrance into but had the feeling something was down there. Taking the plunge, I stepped on the stairs and descended its steps not knowing how far I’d have to walk. With each step, I could tell this place wasn't maintained well if it was at all.
The damp and dingy atmosphere of the stairs clashed against the natural smells of the warm air that surrounded the warm fire mana I conjured to give me some light. The light wasn’t amazing as the pervading darkness did a good job of trying to snuff out the fire’s light. Every so often I heard the faint dripping sound of water just beyond my view, not knowing where it was coming from, I tried to pay it no mind but because of its constant presence, it was hard to ignore.
I tried to keep myself stable and composed until I came to a halt in the dark seemingly reaching the bottom of the stairs that directly led to a large iron door. I couldn’t see through the door as it was solid with no peek hole, its rough and battered shape was evident that something was beyond the doors potentially something I should be careful of. Seeing it was slightly ajar I swung the door open wide. Instead of a lone figure, I was met with a scene that I didn’t expect to see after waltzing through a solid world of white. The room I stepped into was dark and mushy filled with moss upon the aged, eroded rock.
At the back of this dark room were piles upon piles of dead members of Talos’s pantheon who either died from their wounds or exhaustion. In the middle of all the piles of dead was a large four-foot deep box about ten feet in length and five feet in width. The metal forged box was covered in rivets keeping metal parts in place, the most outstanding part of this metal contraption was the chains covering it to keep its lid down. The chains along with the box itself had locks on it to prevent something from getting out or getting in.
Taking no chances I began to walk towards the door I entered this room from. This is what I wanted to do but my body forbade me from taking more than five steps from the spot I was in. While facing the box that I now realised was shaped like a coffin. Breathing slowly closing my eyes whilst turning towards the coffin my body jolted as the bang of the door slammed into my head in unison with the banging coming from the coffin and the wriggling of the chains on it.
Step after step the closer the coffin was within reach, I didn’t want to reach out yet my subconscious forced my body to obey. Unwillingly my body grabbed hold of the frost-bitten chains that wanted to wriggle free from the coffin.
When I had the chains fully grasped in my bandaged left hand, I went inside myself feeling for the fire mana inside me. The fire surfaced through the body of soul and physical right down to the chains. The fire mana began to burn the chains not doing much even after I put more of my mana into it, though I was pushing my fire mana into and through control like always. It just felt weak. Keeping the crown high as some said continuing to try nothing worked the chains were still frozen.
Seeing no choice, I gripped the ōdachi on my back. Unsheathing the blade with a tight grip fire screamed out along with the blade, the crackling fire spat mana into the air with every slight movement of the blade. Raising the weapon high, feeling for the heat I sent even more and more mana into the blade creating a blistering effect of bolstering golden light no longer just fire. I looked down at the locks on the coffin’s lid that were connected to the chains.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“No rest for the wicked aye?” I asked the person in the coffin swinging down my ōdachi, the blade clashed with the locks shattering them as if they were glass. The sudden force of the shattering sent me back towards the doors. Crashing into the wall shook my spine in several places forcing me to sit nearly dropping my ōdachi. I was just able to Lift my head ever so slightly catching a glimpse of a hand reaching out of the coffin. The pale hand seemed to be pushing the coffin lid away, trying to grip the cold metal to give it some strength to lift the entire body I assumed.
It took a while, but a person was able to stand up in the coffin, their figure was frail. Turning the neck towards me, I tried to feel for their mana or any sign of life. ‘They have no mana.’ Watching the figure from my seated location, I couldn’t feel an aura that could be exerted, nor could I feel a faint sense of mana of any kind. The figure moved swiftly from the coffin and down the marble moss steps that would lead up to it. With one sudden swift moment, a wing shot out from the back. Straining my neck to look up, I caught a glance at the knight who wore paladin armour in black adorned with gold rivets and small extra elements such as tassels.
Just like my own armour, they had a waist cloth in gold speckled with azure and sapphire cotton or silk.
“Hello. Ciaran…” I groaned gripping my ōdachi. Ciaran didn’t speak, just stood silent in my gaze. A flunk boomed into my chest, jolting me up to see a giant blade inches from my face. ‘Moonlight huh?’ I raised a brow seeing Ciaran offer up her moonlight blade, a sacred artifact that any scholar would love to wield. Laughing internally, I held onto the grip of the great sword, trying to see if it would temporarily acknowledge me as its master. The moonlight blade had a Will of its own, only recognising the strongest as its master.
Pulling the sword hard I was able to get the sword out the ground. Though the blade was heavy I could wield it with issue. Wasn’t the worst experience apart from the fact I was the dumbass still holding one sword. Sheathing my own sword, I held the moonlight blade with two hands. It didn’t talk or listen to me which was no surprise as it was only letting me hold it until Ciaran ‘comes back to life’. Not wanting to have an argument with a fucking sword I stared back at Ciaran. She proceeded to step towards the coffin turning her back to me. Plunging her clawed gauntlet into her chest, a guttural thumb resounded across the echoing walls.
When she turned back around, I was stunned when Ciaran held out her weighted hand which held a floating ball with no defined shape. Doing just like I did with my past form of Marin holding my hand above the orb it seemed to allow it to float inside me. Reeling back, I felt my body respond to the sudden incursion of another soul entering my body. Looking deeper into my soul form which is used in mindscapes and dream mirages. Reaching into my soul form I felt for my soul only to find I now had two souls inside me.
“Well, that’s more than one.” I said aloud. It seemed I now had two souls inside me, one was mine which seemed to be torn potentially rippling apart whereas the other one was Ciaran’s stable soul. A calm wave. Ciaran’s form disappeared dissolving into the moss evergreen coloured ground. I wanted to reach out to her and give her soul back then again, it’s not like I had the power to do so now she was gone from sight completely. A single tear flowed from my left eye it had a slight acidic burn to it going so far as to charr the rotten stone.
Shaking my head a thunderous pain shot through my left arm towards my brain and down my spine. The black colour that covered my human hand faded as the arm tore itself off my body dropping to the ground. Clutching the open wound like a cute pet I felt the agonising pain with a scream getting stuck in my throat. When the scream left my throat, I felt the true pain of losing my arm, as the blood dripped from the wound footsteps clattered in my ears. Frantically turning toward, the direction of the footsteps I saw a figure.
The figure loomed over me, the black armour casted a shadow over my own shadow colouring my golden blood black. Abyssal armour covered the entire being making it hard for me to distinguish the form from illusion or reality. Blinking once seemed to change my perspective as a purple cape appeared to cover half the armoured being on the side which was holding a blade. As I continued to grip my wound that kept to continuously bleed gold eventually turning to black from its shadow, the figure began to move.
“So that hasn’t killed you. I’m surprised really!” The armoured being laughed kneeling before me. ‘It speaks?’ I asked myself not believing what was happening before me. The large knight knelt before me laughing manically watching me in pain.
“Ludwig was right. So was the maiden of black… a pendragon is resilient enough to survive my blade.” The armoured being laughed again gripping me by the throat. Lifting me off the ground, he stared at me intensely. I grumbled not realising I only had red death and my ōdachi, I couldn’t summon them, nor could I hold them in my current condition. “Oh, you think you can fight hahaha! Ludwig can’t read minds nor can the maiden, but I can.” He paused throwing me towards the coffin which once held Ciaran’s body.
“Reading your mind, I can tell your willingness to fight even in your current state. I applaud your courage young one… nevertheless, you’ll die here.” The armoured raised up his rather slim great sword. Feeling for the essence of my ōdachi I named my blade after the Nihon goddess of the sun Amaterasu, this seemed to help my predicament, and the blade came to my hand. My body seemed to move on its own, my weapon went straight through the armoured being’s own weapon, clashing against their armour. They grunted jumping back towards the door keeping hold of their weapon quite tightly for my liking.
“Jus-just kill me! I can’t ta-take this pain!” I whined gripping my wound, dropping the odachi. I pleaded the being whoever it was under the abyssal helm to kill me, I could not take the pain of the wound that kept plunging my chest into unbearable agony. My emotions were going haywire, I couldn’t even understand what my mind was thinking or trying to accomplish.
“Kill you!? Don’t make me laugh! A pendragon wants death-?”
“Just fucking kill me! I can’t take this pain!” I shouted cutting off the knight who stepped further back into the doorway making it harder for me to see him. I gritted my teeth in the agony along with gripping my wound tighter feeling the weight of the blood become heavier by the second.
“I’m honestly surprised-- no matter you’ll wake up soon!” The knight said removing his mask making his distorted voice become clearer but not enough for me to recognise nor could I see his face. “When you wake up… let’s talk again in onrath.” My mind faded into darkness the pain became lessened especially less responsive. When my mind was fully gone, I felt myself drifting into a void of nothingness and total darkness.
…
When I awoke, I gripped my wound tightly trying to sense the pain but no such pain in that area other than a searing frozen coldness of metal could be felt. “Argh fuck!” A pained cry left my mouth as my right hand recoiled back from the metal arm that now replaced the human arm, I had moments before this. ‘Wait… how long was that dream?’ I wondered aimlessly moving my new mechanical hand into view from my side. The black sheen blocked my eyesight for a split second when the sun’s rays bounced off its reflective surface in various wild directions.
Sighing inwardly, I cocked my head right towards the mirror of my room, recognising the room in Akron’s house. Glancing at the mirror I took in my adjusted appearance. White hairs along with red hairs well strands flowed down the front side of my face and along the fringe. Even some flowed at the sides of my fringe, my hair was no longer to my shoulders it was haphazardly cut. Something akin to a wolf cut just shorter in total length. Assessing my appearance made me realise whatever happened in that particular dream was indeed real.
I could even feel Ciaran’s soul still inside me sound asleep. Before I could acknowledge it anymore my room doors swung open crashing against the frame making the bronze hinges cry in resistance. Jolting my head at the doors I locked eyes with Akron who towered over Talia who ran more like leaped towards me, not breaking the silence I slowly lifted my arms to cross over Talia’s back who flinched at the coldness of my metal arm.
Talia squealed in my grip feeling the negative temperature. She didn’t speak, it was like she was forcing herself not to. Tears streamed down her face clutching me tight.
Akron was the first to break the silence stepping towards me with light footsteps, the light footsteps resounded through my enhanced hearing which activated on its own. The sound wasn’t usual to hear as she was barefooted. Keeping my on her I noticed even her appearance had changed, she wore more causal clothing such as an eastern ceremonial garb and bandages, that covered the legs from halfway down to shin to just over the ball of her feet.
“Akron?…” my voice trailed off moving my eyes from Talia to Akron who in my eyes seemed to float even though she was walking. “Ho-how long has it been?-how long have I been out?” I asked my face a mix of complete confusion and intrigue. Akron didn’t answer straight away and went on to talk about useless topics that I didn’t need the knowledge for, the constant stares I gave Akron seemed to put her in a position where she would have to give me an answer.
“You have been out for roughly five months which equates to five weeks-!” Akron’s words froze still seeing my sudden gaze of realisation.
Akron explained through means of simplicity that after I sat and delved into my core, I supposedly fell unconscious with my heart stopping for a few seconds at a time. Akron went on to further explain that to stop this from happening was to replace my arm with a bio-mechanical arm made by Caryll the primordial of creation and Freyja primordial of flesh and sight. They could only put on the mechanical arm after it randomly disappeared. “Every time we placed a bio arm onto your flesh no matter the colour it would always become black… this has never happened before. What happened on your end?” She asked.
“It’s strange to explain if I’ll be honest.” I replied. I explained all I could. everything that happened inside the mindscape of the copied world or white city from the inverted buildings and clanking of cogs or gears to the statue of Ciaran. I left out much so it would be somewhat believable, but I did mention that I met Marin who I was reincarnated from through the line.
“Ah, I see a lot happened quickly. They call it a remembrance… if you find out more keep it to yourself.” Akron’s words seemed to be of worry and concern to keep me alive. From the look on her face, I could tell, reincarnations aren’t well-liked especially if someone says they had a remembrance, well that’s what I suspected anyway.