Does a broken soul mend itself with time? If so, does it return to what it once was, or does it become something entirely different, never quite the same?
The garden realm he visited when he dreamed became haunted by somber gray skies. The sun that always shined so brightly was smaller and dimmed to the degree one could look directly at it without discomfort. Perhaps that distant star was always an analogy of his soul. Its diminutive size may have meant his essence was nearly depleted.
A series of dry, ghostly whispers surfaced while he gazed up at the saddened sky. They transcended reality and communicated directly into his mind, foreboding in various tones- some hopeful, some angry, others intent.
"The ground rejects us, but you can make us whole again..."
"Do you hear us! Defiler of death!"
"Ah, how I long to see my dearest's face again."
"Your power calls to us... we will answer, whether you want us to or not."
A cold shiver jolted him awake, and his eyes snapped open to a dark room. The voices became a distant mumble, but they didn't vanish, and he began to feel like he was being watched. He was lying in a bed underneath heavy covers, alone in an elegant chamber. A bit of silvery light seeped through a draped window, allowing him to make out some features.
He rubbed his head as his entire body felt numb and transparent, as though he could pass through a solid surface like a ghost. He slogged to his feet, body drenched with cold sweat, and began walking. Nowhere in particular, he just wanted to get away from the voices. Find- something. Anything. Still faint, he exited the room, using the walls of the unlit house to stay upright. He eventually stumbled into the living space of that unfamiliar building, which had the windows covered to prevent light from exiting.
A magic, luminous glowing orb was floating near the ceiling, allowing him to spot three blurry, winged figures. Strangers who seemed human like him, but at the same time not? He was anxious when they all turned their attention his way. The tallest among them bulldozed toward him, blocking his body from the female and lecturing him in a weird, rough-sounding language he managed to understand.
"Put some clothes on!" This- 'creature' had snarled.
Vin peered at them, his groggy body in a constant back-and-forth sway. The scale-covered face of this creature grew concerned, as if they were uneasy about something. They said something... But, the world began to go mute. The other two winged beings stood, and the other male with bright hair ran closer just as Vin asked, "Who. Who are y-"
The latter half of his words were cut as his body shrieked for more rest. It was inexplicable, but there was a severe rupture somewhere deep inside of him. Haze immediately flooded his mind, and then he returned to darkness.
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Vin slowly regained consciousness sometime later. He was in a bed again, slightly more cognizant. Not much time had passed, as the little light entering that room was still colorless like snow. He thumbed his forehead for answers, promptly recalling snippets of his crisis. 'The story quest...'
'I was being chased... but there's something else I'm forgetting. Something terrifying,' he thought, scanning the eerily silent chamber. The strangest part was the gap in his memory- something he couldn't grasp no matter how hard he tried. Since his rebirth on Auroraan, he could easily recall anything, yet now, the events after escaping the Elven knights felt like a void he couldn't fill.
A quick glance revealed several pieces of furniture. Discerning he was bare underneath the bedding, he first stood and invaded that homeowner's wardrobe. Everything was velvety and dyed the loving colors of nature. He didn't favor any of it, unhurriedly dressing in a silk tunic, trousers, and shoes.
He was still light-headed, but it didn't stop him from navigating through this unfamiliar house; he returned to the common area, this time more conscious. He recognized Maeve at a desk, her hands slightly tugging at her hair as she fixated on a large map. Her right leg had a wooden stint, broken from when she was sent flying earlier.
Tristen was covered in bruises, his head tightly wrapped. He and the others were also dressed in casual, pastel Elven attire. It didn't suit them either.
The pink-haired Ravenour saw the human hugging the wall for support, then took its place and helped Vin to a couch, asking glumly, "Are you okay to be moving?"
Looking around, nothing had been burned, so that couldn't have been the same house they initially hid in. "I'm fine. Where are we?" Vin whispered.
"Still in the Archival Dimension... We moved to the next house since the hole in the last one exposed so much of it," he responded.
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Tristen let him to a couch, and Vin let his body limp onto a chair's headrest before he mumbled, "Is it safe here?"
"Maeve thinks the neighborhood was evacuated after the fight. The army hasn't been active in this area, so we can hide here for a while."
"Sure," he sighed. He looked wearily at Tristen and commented, "Should you be talking so loud."
After that sentence, Tristen's face tensed in frustration, and he shifted to hide his wry face. Gideon picked up where he didn't respond, scoffing and pointing at their princess, "Why don't you ask Maeve."
An uptight tension made the air in the room harder to breathe. Vin's brows raised in surprise. Trsten and Gideon, the most loyal subjects in the world, were angry at her. How did being able to talk freely correlate to why they were bitter?
Vin carried himself to where Maeve sat. He glanced above her at a glowing orb of light and then toward an elven map she was immersed in. He called her name several times, but she didn't respond. Vin dropped his hand at the center of the diagram, and she finally snapped out of her trance and looked at him lifelessly. Her red irises were murky while they usually radiated a confident blaze, and dark rings had made a home under her eyes that barely kept open.
She gradually turned to him, released the strands of hair she was pulling, blinked, and weakly said, "... You're awake."
Vin nodded, looking closely at her paleing features. He'd planned to be cold to her after what happened with Kaelix, but he still pitied her for some reason. Then again, he, of all people, may have been the most unforgivable. If she'd known that he'd been erasing her cherished citizens, there'd be a clash.
Not wanting to stir the terrors in his head, he got straight to the point. Maeve responded to his inquiries by opening her Journal to the [Spell Tab], disclosing her secret and why her guards were sore. Twenty-one spells were listed, more than triple the amount he knew. Among them were the spells "Luminous Orb and Sphere of Silence."
She waved her hands, and a muted gray aura was revealed to have filled the room. Looking out the window, he could tell it was in the shape of a bubble the size of a half-court. Maeve concealed the physical border again, explaining that no sound could escape the area of effect of the circle. Maeve then clarified that she kept the fact she knew magic hidden from everyone, even her guards, but offered no reason as to why. Just that she memorized one spell out of curiosity. However, later, she began sneaking into their castle's vault and having her Journal make copies of all the scrolls that their army pillaged from Elves. And, since half of her blood belonged to the people who created those magics, she learned quickly.
As she explained, Gideon scoffed in the background, and Tristen walked out of the room. Their pain was justified; with as much faith as they put into her, they just wanted the same trust. Maeve was indifferent to their concerns and moved on, standing on her healthy leg and handing Vin the crystal sword he endeavored to salvage from the earlier fight.
"It has a name," she informed, holding the heavy weapon up in display.
"What do you mean?" he replied.
"I am not very knowledgeable about the inner workings of this place, but I do know that Elves venture into the Archival Dimension to study history and retrieve ancient relics that no longer exist."
Maeve frowned. "I began to prepare my retainers for the possibility, but I never thought we would end up here..."
That was the extent of her knowledge. Maeve couldn't have learned more because Ravenours, as a collective, knew little about the Archival Dimension. Their race never expected to be involved with it. Even her decision to prepare the group of twenty combatants on how to skateboard seemed irrational. Maybe even on an impulse.
As for what she did know, she was holding one of those so-called relics of history. Curious, Vin summoned his Journal and asked it to identify the crystal sword.
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[Name:] Quartz Blade
[Rank:] Legendary
[Notes:] Owned by the noble knight, Nilick. Forged of mana-infused crystals. After Princess Elaria was killed, Nilick renounced his claim to joining the royal knights of Watervein and hunted demons alone before he and his sword were destroyed during the Age of Ruin.
[End]
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Vin had to remind himself that everything he was experiencing wasn't real. Nilick and that sword had already died long ago; the person he killed was just a shade of their original self, of their past. He shouldn't have to feel bad for separating them from their beloved blade...
'What is the Age of Ruin... What exactly happened to this planet after the war between demons and Elves.'
'It's history, so it doesn't matter now, but I am a little curious.' He exhaled and slid his hand across the surface of the magnificent crystal sword. The sword's resilience was undeniable since Maeve had used it to deflect a ranged magic attack.
He tried to channel a spell onto it, but a zap of light stung him and caused his hand to repel away. 'This again.'
He wasn't proficient with heavy swords, so he wanted to reshape it into a baseball bat or, even better, durable pants. Evidently, named artifacts couldn't be modified. It was a shame. Assuming weapon ranks were similar to adventurers, Legendary meant it was once one of the strongest blades on the mortal plane.
"Keep it," Vin said. Maeve flinched in slight surprise and opposed, "The spoils of battle go to the victor."
"Yea. I'm giving you my sword," he reiterated, moving around Maeve and taking her seat before the map. "Use it to protect yourself. I'm sick of saving everyone."
Sitting, he heard the robust weapon drop and thump on the ground. Vin turned to see her face perfectly still. Soon, she blinked and hastily responded, "R-right."
Maeve leaned down, picked up the sword, and rested it against the wall near the desk. Vin's words had cut deeper than he'd expected, but he wouldn't redact his statement. Things had to change... He couldn't keep making sacrifices.