“Don’t speak Doti. It’s gonna be alright. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

…Sharthu could never tame me!...

For I alone stand victorious!

I,

Jerome!”

What?! That didn’t sound right. Jerome looked from the blade at Hedon only to see his own face with inhuman red glowing eyes staring back at him.

This…doppelganger was giving off a malevolent aura so thick, Jerome found himself paralyzed and shaking like a leaf in winter.

Blood sprayed out of Doti’s neck as his severed head fell to the ground.

“You killed me,” Doti’s head spoke on the ground.

“No!” Jerome shouted himself out of his nightmare.

His heart was racing a mile away, his mattress soaked with his sweat. Jerome sighed. He took a few breaths to calm himself and got up to get ready for the day.

~~~

“You said it took you only a few hours. Why is mine taking so long?” Jerome asked.

He’d been trying to extend his senses for two days now but nothing seemed to work. They had tried using fear: taking him to the mountains north of the Royal Estate where Rihal stalked him like a predator.

“Maybe something’s interfering with your senses,” Rihal said in contemplation.

“Something like what?” Jerome asked, resting on his stick.

“I don't know.”

The training hall became eerily silent for a while as Jerome observed his master for clues.

“If you know something, Rihal, you should tell me.”

“You know, I am called ‘uncle’ by kids your age. You should show some respect too,” Rihal said, trying to sound stern. And failed.

“Hmph, Jerome humphed.

Rihal scrunched his brows, he was hoping Jerome would see him in that light.

“Not happening...besides it’ll sound weird in my mouth,” Jerome said.

“And you know that, how?”

“Are you gonna tell me what you know or not?” Jerome asked.

“Call me uncle and I'll tell you.”

“In your dreams,” Jerome muttered.

“I heard that.”

“...course you did.”

Rihal chuckled, you’ve got a backbone of steel, don’t you? He thought in admiration.

One moment, Rihal was five paces away, the next he brought down his knuckles on Jerome’s head with a loud knock. “Show some respect to your elders,” he said.

“Sorry,” Jerome muttered as he rubbed the top of his head furiously.

“How were you able to calm your anger during Pilgrims’ Keep?” Rihal asked, going back to their subject of discussion.

The mind-calming stone! Jerome almost blurted out. “What do you know about my anger?” He asked suspiciously. This was something Jerome had been dying to know but had no answer to.

“Oh, I know a lot. A lot more than you can imagine,” Rihal walked up to the crab and sat down on one of its legs. “If you want to know why you were uncontrollably angry during Pilgrims' Keep, you'll have to tell me how you were able to control that anger.”

“You go first, then,” Jerome stated, plopping down on the floor before Rihal.

“You’re descended from a line of people with…emotional…control issues.”

Jerome got up. Slowly and carefully. And started limping away.

“Where are you going?” Rihal asked, surprised.

“If you’re not gonna tell me what I want to know…Uncle Rihal… I’m not interested in hearing what you have to say.”

Did you have to say it that way? Rihal thought as he smiled sheepishly.

“But I am telling the truth, though. Have you been having nightmares?"

Jerome stopped. “Go on,” he said, giving Rihal a piercing look.

“You’ve been seeing people in these nightmares,” Rihal said, sounding mysterious.

“You’ve got three breaths to prove you’re telling the truth. I'm not buying any of that crap.”

Rihal sighed, and there goes my Sage mode. “These people you see, they all become disciples of the Royal family.”

Jerome whipped around so fast he stumbled and fell but Rihal was there to catch him before he hit the ground.

~~~

“I picked up a stone…in Pilgrims’ Keep,” Jerome started. “It helped me suppress my anger. More times than I can count. The stone was like any other stone you’d find anywhere. It called out to me, like a beacon.”

“Was?” Rihal asked. He had caught that.

“Hmm,” Jerome acknowledged, “it was crushed. During the fight with Hedon and his goons.”

“According to the So…our sources, when you fell into Blade’s Edge canyon, you were covered in some kind of earth attribute artifact,” Rihal said. “It turned you into a statue and your vitality receded as though you died.”

Jerome was dumbfounded. But the stone was destroyed! Crushed underneath me during the fight! Maybe it’s not destroyed. What if it merged with my body just like Suzzie?

“Your blood must have seeped into it, bonding it to you without your knowledge. But that doesn't explain how you—”

“Rihal, thank you for the tip. I’ve got to head back now!” Jerome took off, limping back to his room.

“Thanks again...Uncle Rihal!” he shouted from afar.

Rihal almost burst out laughing. That did sound weird coming from Jerome.

~~~

Jerome immersed his senses into his body, the moment he got to his room, searching for the mind-calming stone or whatever it had evolved into. Suzie didn’t remain the same after it was absorbed into his body. He discovered this during his training with Rihal. The gauntlets had become a part of him and though they retained a part of their characteristics, they were not the same as before. They just flowed with his blood. Try as he may, he couldn't find the mind-calming stone. But he noticed for some reason, a yearning inside him.

Something inside him—he didn’t know what—was yearning for…something. He immersed himself in the feeling, letting it guide him to its source. Jerome felt a cool wind blowing in his direction. The smell of a forest. The sound of leaves blowing in the wind. Autumn?

He opened his eyes and his jaw dropped. His surroundings had changed. He looked around. He was no longer sitting cross-legged in his room but standing in a forest. All around him was the beauty of Fall. Leaves in every hue of brown and red floated to the ground with the grace of tiny boats riding the airwaves to land.

Beautiful. “I’ve been here before…is this a memory?” he muttered to himself.

He walked forward and was startled. No pain. Jerome looked down at himself. His body was healed. He was wearing black leather armor and the boots he wore to Blade's Edge canyon. He touched his body but he didn't feel smaller. What the hell is going on?

“Hello!” No answer. He decided to walk to the end of the copse of trees in his line of sight. One moment he took a step. The next, he found himself at the very point he wanted to walk to. Jerome took a deep breath to calm a heart that never beat.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he looked down and touched his chest where his heart should be. No heartbeat.

Does this mean I’m dead? No. Not a chance. “Not a chance!” He screamed to the sky in fury. His voice echoed loudly throughout the forest raising up a storm. The clouds above swirled and darkened as his anger was kindled!

Surprised at the sudden change, he decided to find shelter. The moment his anger subsided, the weather calmed. What the hell is this place? He thought. “No, I can’t be dead. This is a little too strange.”

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He sat down in a meditative stance and took deep breaths to calm himself, immersing himself in his consciousness once again. Sensation came back. Pain and weakness. Jerome coughed loudly as his back hit the floor of his room. He raised his hand to eye level and sighed. He was back in his real body. Somehow he missed the fake one.

That can’t be qualified as a body, right? …Strange. His eyes felt heavy and sleep soon took him. From the shadows, two people emerged.

“Is he gonna be okay?” one of them asked.

The other examined Jerome with her perception, scanning his body and core to check for inconsistencies. “He’ll be fine, father walrus. No need to bother your head. Baby walrus’ nose doesn’t need to go in the snow. His vitality remains the same as is: too weak, and is unable to heal his body properly. And we cannot help him else his channels burn up and be completely destroyed

“How have you been keeping him alive? By all accounts he should be dead,” she said.

The first turned his head away embarrassed. “How come you know about the ‘walrus’ joke?”

“The walls have ears, Rihal,” the other laughed and blended with the shadows.

Rihal stared at Jerome for a while. He was tempted to lift him off the ground and onto the bed, but the Nediti did not leave traces of their existence; they came like they were always there, and left like they never were. He too merged with the shadows and was gone.

~~~

Jerome dreamed that night. He stood in the middle of a forest with falling leaves, red and brown, facing with more clarity, a life he’d dreamed of before.

Three stands in front of a dark mountain. He’s drawn to its peak by a promise of power. His heart yearns for this power with excitement that bordered on madness. Three climbs the mountain to its peak. He hovers atop the mountain roaring in pain and anguish as his body is destroyed and remade.

Darkness spreads over all of Vorthe. Many lose their minds to it as their souls are harvested like wheat from a field. Out of the darkness springs forth a malevolent aura, a millennia of hunger rages in its wake, eating through the mental defenses of the inhabitants of Vorthe.

Three massacres his way through the night. He has no goal, no direction, only need. The need to feed. Transformed into an abomination of the night, he flees the sun and embraces the dark. He hears the voice from afar. The voice which precedes his end and instincts as old as time, come to life.

They urge him to do one thing alone. Run.

A golden sword blazes before his eyes…

Freeze. Jerome willed the scene to freeze in front of him. He observed the person who vanquished the monster that Three had become.

“This cannot be me,” he muttered.

The man had his face and you could say his countenance. But he was older by a bit, regal and…ancient, in a way. Jerome stepped forward on dry leaves crunching beneath his boots, ready to test a theory.

“Reverse,” he said with a gesture of his hand. The scene reversed like a video.

Slowly, he thought and it heeded his will. Jerome nodded, understanding dawning on him. When he was here the first time, he got angry and the whole place reacted to his anger. He should have taken the cue then. This place was under his control — sort of.

The forest of trees remained in the ever-constant season of Fall. Leaves drifted to the ground adding to the millions there before. The scene from his nightmare hovered a few feet above ground surrounded by darkness that reached for this Plane — like fingers extended.

This Plane, Jerome thought. He waved a hand and the nightmare dissipated. This should be a sort of a different ‘Plane of Existence’.

Jerome touched his heart again just to check. There was no heartbeat just as he’d expected. He took a deep breath and decided to learn more about this place and how he got here.

~~~

“You’re almost there,” Rihal urged.

“Urgh,” Jerome grunted as he pulled, sparse muscles bunching, revealing bulging veins.

The crab raised a leg and stepped forward just as he was sure it would move. He was jerked back by a force that would kill him multiple times over.

Rihal was there to catch him before he crashed into the crab.

“Easy, you’re doing great,” he said, holding Jerome up so he could catch his breath.

“Don’t say…that,” Jerome breathed heavily between words. He sat down cross-legged on the floor and began to steady his breathing—plus his eyes were defying the laws of gravity and reality.

“Of course, you’re doing great. You just need to keep the atrophy of your muscles down a notch.”

Jerome didn’t say anything. He wasn’t satisfied with the results he was getting but he couldn’t complain. Instead, he shoved down his frustration—which already had a target. But other concerns had been disturbing him since he woke up this morning. Jerome observed Rihal as he scanned him with his perception. The slightly uncomfortable pressure he felt from his core was Rihal scanning him for issues.

“What?” Rihal looked up and asked.

Jerome just continued staring at him with his brows almost touching. After a while, he took a deep breath and said, “you told me once that I was descended from a line of people with emotional control issues. Well, what’s the cause?”

Rihal raked his hair with rough fingers as he contemplated what to say. “Maybe some type of… I don’t know?”

“You don’t know,” Jerome repeated flatly, clearly not buying it. “Why then are we all taken in by Vorthe as disciples?”

“Perhaps to help you…I guess?” Rihal said, almost finding it hard to keep up. He hated lying to Jerome, but he had opened up Zamara's Vault of Secrets and there was no going back.

“What am I, Rihal?”

Rihal opened his eyes wide in shock for a few breaths before regaining his countenance. He stood up and paced for a while before sitting back down. Jerome watched all this with the patience of a snail.

“I’m not in the position to tell you that, Jerome.”

“Then, who is?”

Rihal sighed, “You’d have to get an audience with the Sovereign if you want to know what you are.”

Jerome gasped. That high? he thought.

“Ahem, and how do I go about this?”

Rihal looked at him with a mixture of amusement and shock. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“I am—dead serious,” Jerome hardened his face as he spoke.

“Well, good luck with that,” Rihal stood up and dusted off the soil clinging to his butt, “You’ll have a better chance slaughtering your way through the Estate.”

“Aren’t you gonna help me with this?”

Rihal looked at him, hesitant for a moment. “No,” he said and walked away. “Go prepare yourself for Layla’s arrival.”

Jerome sat where he was, brimming with contained anger. He would let loose if he could find a proper sparring partner. Perhaps, a Blank. But that would be humiliating for him—a Sprout fighting a Blank. He would never hear the end of it.

He stood up from his sitting position but quickly remembered Kilian. “Lord Kilian might be able to help. He probably is higher ranked than Rihal.”

How do they even tell who’s higher on the board—or line, whatever they use?

“Tsk!” He hissed as he shuffled towards Kilian’s study. The maids he met on the way all bowed slightly as he passed by. Jerome returned their greeting in kind as he limped by, stopping to rest every time he successfully climbed a stair.

Knock, knock, he pounded lightly on Kilian’s study at last.

“I can’t help you,” Kilian called out from within.

Jerome felt like growing more hands to reach inside the study and strangle the Lord of the castle. His face turning red with anger, he asked through gnashed teeth, “Is Rihal there?”

“Go away, Jerome,” Rihal answered.

Jerome ground his teeth until they hurt. The sons of bitches were working together on this. He shuffled back to his room in pain, letting the anger and adrenaline propel him forward.

~~~

Sitting down cross-legged in his room, Jerome submerged himself in his senses. He opened his eyes and was already inside Autumn, the other Plane.

The cold wind hit his face as he waved his hand and the leaves on the ground and in the air seemed to obey him, flowing in the direction of his hand, and unveiling a scene midair.

Hedon stood holding up Doti as he screamed his words of power. This was something he wanted to ask Rihal as well, but his anger got the better of him.

“That’s not a true Epos.”

Jerome whipped around at the strange voice. “Who’s there?”

Memories flashed in his mind at the sight of the stranger. Jerome stood there stunned and afraid, his legs remained paralyzed, as he shook in fear.

“Who are you?” he finally asked again after gathering his wits.

“You know me. You see me…in your nightmares,” the stranger said as he began walking in circles around him. He was slow, yet fast. “Tell me, Jerome. What do you see in your nightmares?”

“I die,” he said, “at your hands.”

“Beautiful,” the stranger said. He had stopped to admire the beauty of the forest around him.

He caught a leaf floating midair and observed it curiously. Even in his curiosity, the man was regal. Jerome watched him, mesmerized by his movements. His pure white robes added to the air of superiority he carried as he walked around investigating everything around him with elegance.

“Are you here to…”

“...kill you? Of course not, Jerome,” the stranger looked back at him. “Until you lose control of the Beast inside you, I’ll leave you be.”

Jerome remembered Rihal’s words about his ‘emotional control issues’. “What beast?” he asked.

The stranger raised his hand, index finger pointing up, an indication he wanted silence. Jerome shut his mouth and turned his attention to studying the memory from Blade’s Edge canyon. With a death sentence hanging on his head now, however, he couldn’t concentrate.

“Still looking at that? He executed it poorly,” the stranger turned to face him.

Jerome nodded, caching his questions about that for later. “If I may be so bold, Sovereign,” he bowed deeply. “Might I ask where this is?”

Yun Vorthe smiled at Jerome. He knew the kid would see through him. “Rise.”

Jerome rose and watched as the Patriarch sat down on the ground. He joined him, sitting cross-legged as well. Even that casual action looked like it was done on a throne, he thought with a sigh.

“You created this world from your memory, Jerome—it’s a mental plane that exists within its creator. Here, you are God.”

Jerome nodded silently. It was true that he could control everything here.

“I want to know,” the Sovereign said, looking him in the eye. “This is not your first life, is it?”

Jerome looked away guiltily, like someone caught with meat from his mother’s pot.

“And this memory we’re in — it is from your previous life, it is…staggering!” the Sovereign looked around excitedly. “Mankind has always believed in reincarnation, but we never had proof of it, no one ever remembers. ‘Every man goes through the cycle of death and rebirth, never retaining past memories upon receiving new life’.”

The Patriarch looked deeply at Jerome and smiled. “That was a quote from Zamara—Keeper of Secrets and Truth.”

Jerome had no idea who that was but kept silent.

“But here you are—a living evidence of our belief.”

“Ahem,” Jerome cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable under the Patriarch’s scrutiny.

“It puts some things into perspective as well, like your ability to restrain the Beast. The beast is your rage and each fated Dark One before you was consumed by that rage till death. When it rears its head, it never goes back to sleep.”

Jerome didn’t like where this was heading, but he very well couldn’t tell the Sovereign to put a pin in it.

“You have felt it, have you not? The call of the darkness.”

“So, Rihal’s story was true and not…half true?” Jerome asked partly out of curiosity.

“Even Rihal knows not how true and how ancient this tale is. That darkness is your inheritance, Jerome.”

Jerome scrunched his brows looking away, “I don’t want it. I don’t wanna kill people and…drink blood.” he quickly stopped himself from saying ‘become a vampire’. That was not a word in the vocabulary of Vorthe.

“I can’t help you there, Jerome. But you have shown that you can suppress the Beast with your stone. When you take up the darkness in the mountains, it’ll be much stronger. I hope you can suppress it then.”

“That’s a lot to ask of me don’t you think? You’re asking me to become a demon,” Jerome complained. He felt like he was losing control of his own life. Of everything he envisioned to be, becoming a demon was not part of them.

“Dark One is what we call you.”

“That’s a scary name.”

“Hmm, it is meant to be scary. Not many know about what you are, though. Some Great families have their suspicions. Some have even tried to capture your predecessors, all to no avail.”

“But why, why all of this? What purpose does the…Dark One serve?”

“In due time, child. It is best we do not spend too much time here. Sit still, close your eyes, and take a deep breath.”

Jerome did as he was told.

“Visualize the entirety of this world. Do you see it?”

“Vaguely.”

“That is good enough. Now, reach for it and push through the boundary in your mind…”