The glimmers of memories faded away, leaving behind a silent night permeated only with rough and dim life breaths. If a deformed dwarf were to emerge from the darkness to torment Vasili, he would at least have the existence of the other person to acknowledge his own, and resist it with his willpower. However, in the darkness, there were no enemies, no arms, and no weapons.
He screamed, but no sound came out.
He didn't know how long he had been alone in the darkness - minutes, days, or months. He no longer contemplated, forgetting his own name and form, only aware that he was a floating white fragment in the darkness. Thoughts carried a bit of external darkness into consciousness and took away a bit of inner whiteness. Colors grew fainter, thoughts became more disjointed, the boundary between black and white blurred, merging into a gray; or perhaps it was black or white - lacking contrast, the deepest black could also be the brightest white.
He wasn't even sure if he still had eyes, if they were open or closed, or if he could see anything, until a colorful flat object walked into his view at some point. The object had a smooth square shape with five small buds on top, and its thickness conveyed a sense of warmth. After a moment, another symmetrically identical object appeared. He began to contemplate, recalling that these were a pair of feet, and through the feet, he remembered people. And through the neatly trimmed toenails, he remembered apricot blossom petals, and spring.
"Why the bowed head, esteemed warrior?"
The voice resonated in his ears where it should exist. Now he had a lowered head, his hands chained to a rough stone wall, and unfamiliar words freed him from his shackles.
He lifted his head from the ground, facing a silver mask engraved with intertwining patterns of valerians. The cheeks of the mask had hollow pouches that emitted a rich herbal fragrance. Curly hair, resembling golden threads, wrapped around the upper, left, and right edges of the mask, while beyond that, a pristine white toga robe adorned the figure. From the narrow shoulders and hips, it appeared to be a young girl. The girl concealed her slender arms wrapped in silk behind her body, slightly tilting her waist. With eyes as gentle as turquoise, she curiously surveyed him, who kneeled before her.
The surroundings gradually warmed up, and he vaguely remembered this warmth. Like that virgin, what was her name again? Sandra, it seemed to be this name, the virgin who summoned the dragon, but not quite the same. If Sandra's flames were steady and dignified, the warmth he felt now was vibrant and lively, as if it could burst through the soil and give birth to blossom of fire under her footprints.
"Are you a virgin?" Emulating the mask before him, he grew a shapeless and viscous mouth, conveying thoughts in a blurred voice.
"They used to call me Polulus. I am the third Regent Virgin, and the youngest among them." From Polulus's tone, one could discern not only her pride but also her full understanding of what it meant to be a virgin. "And you? Good warrior."
"My name..." He felt like a thorn stuck in his throat, struggling forward like a newly hatched snake, breaking free from the hazy membrane enveloping his entire being. A flood of memories and burning emotions spilled out as well. He was the Nameless Prince, he was Anganas, but what couldn't be shaken off like a branding iron was:
"Vasili, my name is Vasili."
"Pleased to meet you, Vasili." Polulus lifted her dress and performed a kneeling salute, while Vasili pressed his right hand horizontally on his abdomen and returned the gesture with a bow. "Could you please tell me if my good warriors are still in battle?"
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Vasili initially didn't understand to whom the Virgin was referring, but as he recalled the hard scales covering their cheekbones, nostrils, and lips, the murky yellow eyes with vertical pupils, the worm-like beard, and the sharp obsidian spears they held, he looked around in horror. However, apart from the virgin, there was nothing else in sight.
"Your legion?" Vasili murmured, "The 'Immortal' Legion?"
"Led by the most loyal Seraphina, the finest Third Legion. The love of my life." Compared to when she introduced herself, Polulus, the virgin, now displayed her pride unabashedly. This made Vasili feel utterly absurd.
"The legion you loved has turned into monsters." Vasili pressed his abdomen, not to bow but because the chilling sensation of being pierced by the spear still haunted him. He spread his hand, there were no wounds on his abdomen, and no blood in his palm.
"They are not monsters." Vrigin Polulus hastily defended her former protectors, and only at this moment did she reveal the innocence of a child. "Perhaps they have temporarily deviated from the ideals of saving the Empire, but no, they are definitely not monsters..." Her voice grew smaller and smaller, until it was barely audible, "Although it's not the Empire, they still seek to salvage something." She hung her turquoise-like eyes with sadness. " Can perseverance borne out of love be easily distorted?"
Vasili noticed that although her eyes were as green as a pond in spring, the surface was covered with a murky layer, a sign of some kind of ailment, indicating the loss of vision.
"What is it?" Vasili asked heavily, "the thing they want to salvage."
Virgin Polulus didn't respond. Instead, she closed her eyes and reached to the back of her head, unfastening the clasp that held tightly to her golden hair. With delicate fingers adorned in silk gloves, she removed the exquisitely carved silver mask from her tightly wrapped neck. Vasili was shocked by what he saw and struggled to control his expression, but Polulus seemed indifferent to his thoughts as she gazed into the distance. Afterward, she put the mask back on.
"I'm sorry." After a long silence, Vasili spoke as if swallowing bitterness.
"Oh, you don't need to think that way. I have always considered myself fortunate," Polulus smiled beneath the mask exuding a rich scent of valerians. "With General Seraphina and so many loyal warriors willing to accompany me to the treacherous far north, just to cure my affliction." She gazed nostalgically into the darkness. "Regardless of the outcome, I have no regrets. All I can do is leave my wish to them."
"And I believe that wish is..." Forever fight by your side. Vasili felt a numbness on his tongue, as if he were suffocating, unable to respond. His peculiarity caught the virgin's attention.
"Not long ago, many people came to commune with my flame. I suppose those must have been your friends. Are you here for the same reason, Vasili brother?" Barefoot, standing in the pool of blood spreading from Vasili's feet, Polulus lowered her gaze beneath her golden lashes and exhaled gently against her silk gloves. "You are seriously wounded." Ribbons of flame rose and fell from her cupped palms, twirling and dancing like graceful performers. "Don't perish in vain. Accept my blessing and merge into a greater whole."
The surroundings gradually darkened, leaving only the flames in the virgin's hands, and the mask flickering like a phantom in the dancing firelight. Vasili understood that the curtain was truly closing.
His knees gradually weakened, his vision grew blurred, and Vasili leaned his body, kneeling on one knee. Slowly, he reached out towards the light in the depths of the darkness, bit by bit... bit by bit... it felt so distant. Until finally, within the looming shadows, he felt the warm and gentle palm of the virgin.
"I cannot accept your kindness. I should fight." He gently closed the virgin's palm, an action that directly extinguished the flames.
"Then I will give you, the battle you seek."
He felt the silky touch slip away from his fingertips as the virgin sighed, turning her back in the boundless darkness and taking her steps away. "Farewell, valiant warrior, what a pity it is."
Afterward, in complete darkness, Vasili engaged in a battle against the intangible. He couldn't see his own hands, and evidently had no weapons. His opponent alternated between sharp claws and teeth, and various weapons. In this spiritual battle, Vasili experienced pure happiness.