A stunned silence overcame the room, Yissle’s eyes falling to the ground, mind growing more distant by the moment. It was almost impossible to believe, fantasy brought to life. Killed? But he was sitting right there. Trenton could reach out and touch him. It just couldn’t be true…because if it was, then Trenton was back to nothing, again.
“I…don’t understand,” Trenton mumbled, struggling to come to terms with the bomb he was just handed.
Yissle sighed, looking up at Trenton with new resolve, and only a deeper well of sorrow, “When I left, I found all sorts of opportunities. I ignored the dangers, got myself tangled in with bad folk and ones worse still. I thought myself better, thought if only I was careful, clever, I could get what I want and disappear unscathed. But I guess it doesn’t work that way. Demon of the West found me out, sold me to the Collector for, I imagine, quite a pretty penny. Time was hard to tell in that labyrinth of his, so all I remember is hours of fallow, hours which themselves seemed days, days which themselves seemed years. Then he’d appear, show up with an array of new tools and devices like no time had passed at all. He tore into my flesh, ripped off every limb, every organ, stripped my body head to toe from its flesh like he were debarking a tree. And when he was satisfied, he started switching parts back in, arms of every size from gods know where, new batches of flesh stitched together at odd points, muscles interwoven with my own, teeth tasting of another man’s blood…until I could no longer think, act, move, every moment nothing but pain laced with the desire for it all to end. Then came the mind tampering, psychic magics piled atop surgery after surgery, digging around my mind, ripping it out chunk by chunk, destroying every memory and love I once held to make room for new ones, an ultimate desire to serve him, a fondness for bloodshed, and a loss of empathy. And when all was said and done, he set me loose, gave me commands to fulfill, which I did without hesitation…until Era found me. I don’t remember it all too well, but from what I’m told, I served as something of an experiment, a test of both the human mind and body and the Collector’s methods. Over years, Walibeld and Era, as well as renowned scholars from across the land traveled to the academy to work on my body. In time, they slowly rebuilt me, as much as they could, anyway. Most of my memories are still lost, only some base one’s, the faces and names of people I once loved, returned to me, I still have almost no sense of empathy, I guess they couldn’t do much on that front, and my body still remains a patchwork of different corpses. They did however, succeed on one front, the most important I’d wager. That instilled sense of loyalty to the Collector, that profane love and dedication, they couldn’t remove it completely, but they could overpower it with a new one, hatred.”
While Yissle talked, Millie, thankfully, didn’t listen, choosing to roam about the room and tend to her own interests; Leo watched on in horror, mouth slightly ajar, twitching at the sides; and Trenton simply sat there, a growing sense of dread and hate overwhelming his body. All these years, all these godsdamned years he thought his brother dead, instead he was being tortured, every living moment a new agony to endure. It wasn’t simply unfair, it was unacceptable. To rip the Collector apart simply wouldn’t do. He needed to suffer, scream the sweet tune of death for all to hear as his life was ripped away from him.
Trenton met Yissle’s eyes, a new fury awoken within him, “...kill him. I’ll kill him. We’ll kill him. Whatever it takes, I don’t care,” he breathed, mind racing with a twisted sense of excitement and adrenaline.
Yissle smiled, a slight part to either side, “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“So…Walibeld knew…and he just didn’t say anything?” Leo asked, staring at his hands shaking in his lap.
“To spare you, I imagine. For most of the time they had me, I was nothing more than either a raving madman or a walking corpse. Only in the last couple years did their treatments start to have any real impact. What kind of news is it that your brother is alive only on technicality? With much of my life taken away from me, I only remember who I was by second hand tale. That’s why I consider myself dead, a cadaver given life again,” Yissle responded leaning back in his chair.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Walibeld was the one that delivered the news, told us you’d died as a soldier on the frontlines for Dasellium, gave a letter from Geren saying how brave a fighter you were,” Trenton said, recalling his mother’s crocodile news, his father’s stone face, and that far away look in Delis’s eyes as Walibeld read the letter aloud. It was a bad day, one of the worst in Trenton’s life.
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“All fabricated. I’ve never even met the man.”
Figured, that he’d been so blind not to see it almost infuriated Trenton more than the core of wrath burning within his heart, but not quite.
“Well, if you’ve had the last couple years back, what’ve you been doing all this time?” Leo asked, clenching his fists and taking a deep breath.
“Training, learning, preparing. If I’m going to finally kill someone as infamous, well guarded, and slippery as the Collector, I need to be ready. Era’s been helping me with that. This new body, as much as I loathe it, is quite capable, and with my core intact, and new purpose, I’ve found myself able to grow much faster than ever before, which is something you can actually relate to, isn’t it Trenton?”
“...I can,” somehow, despite his years and years of avid training and learning, the only real growth he saw was after Aria fell.
Something about the journey he’d been on, something about all he’s suffered through, has awakened in him dormant strength he never thought possible.
Yissle nodded, “Era calls it the ‘burden of binding’ and apparently it’s rather well documented. For some reason, learning in safe and stable environments, even with the best teachers in the world, doesn’t work to teach true strength. Apparently, each of the worlds strongest all traveled the plains at one point in their life, the Conqueror, the Benevolent, the Bloody, Era, Walibeld, Mally, Lairick, Peravus, Yuleye, Aylith, Arnis, Kvarik, Verulius, and so on. Something about suffering and the need to become stronger brings out inladen potential within some people, those that survive, anyway. Wimbleton, actually, is a perfect example of this phenomenon. I don’t know much about him, Era says it’s not his place to say, and I’ve hardly spoken with the kid myself, but from what I understand, he’s been through a lot–more than you could imagine. And you’ve seen the results of that,” Yissle looked to the side, gazing out the window with a far away look returning to his face, “...we heard about Ruvalth. It’s…here, just read this. It’s the report we got the day it happened,” Yissle scrounged a file from beneath a stack of paper on his desk, pulling out a clean folded slip of paper and handing it to Trenton.
Trenton hesitated for a moment, fingers shaking slightly as he held the soft slip of paper. If what he thought was true, then…he opened the slip, turning to allow Leo to read at the same time.
Ruvalth gone. Obliterate. No traces remaining. Crater~100 miles~untouched. Wimbleton’s location–unknown.
“That’s the translation of the encrypted message we received from a scout we sent to investigate the scene. It’s a grim sight, apparently, and we haven't gotten a word from Wimbleton since it happened, so it’s hard to say what’s going on with him,” Yissle sighed, scratching the back of his neck with a free hand.
“Is he alive?” Trenton asked, a wash of conflicting emotions building in his chest.
Yissle shrugged, “I haven't the slightest. Era would know the answer to that question far better than I would. Like I said, I barely know the kid, he’s a coworker on a good day. I-” Yissle stopped, eyes shooting straight up, his head remaining completely still as the last traces of the sun disappeared below the horizon, subtle taps of encroaching rain picking up at the window. It was far later than Trenton thought. They must’ve been loitering for far longer than he expected. “Uh huh…no…are you certain, that…right, right, but is that…fine. I’ve no worries, setting aside any qualms,” Yissle focused back on Trenton, blinking a couple times like he’d just been reawoken. “Looks like it’s time. Era’s calling for you.”
Trenton stood, taking a deep breath and steeling himself. He waited months, it was time to get some answers, “I’m ready. And, Yissle?” Trenton said, Yissle standing to look him in the eye.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t care what you say, nor what’s happened. You’re still my brother, the only family I’ve left. Whatever it takes, we will kill the Collector,” Trenton held out his hand to Yissle.
Yissle clasped Trenton’s hand, the crisp sound like a hummingbird's chirp, “I’ll count on it. See you in a bit,” Yissle replied, tired smirk lighting up his face as Trenton disappeared, suddenly taken by a new force.
In an instant, Trenton no longer stood holding Yissle’s hand. Instead, he stood before a single grand door laced top to bottom with enchantments of every kind, carvings of warriors new and old adoring the sides of the small hallway he was placed into. It was now or never, no point in hesitating. Trenton pressed his hand against the door, watching as a crease formed at the center, the doors silently swinging outward.