[Darktide currently in progress]

[Transporting]

[Welcome to the Lotus Space.]

A blinding white light overtook Silas’ vision, his surroundings suddenly empty. Nothing but a white void for miles in all directions. The floor beneath him felt perfectly smooth and without flaw, as if it always existed as one whole piece. Yet it was endless.

What was this place?

[Would you like to view your Reflection?]

Line after line of strange blue glyphs lines his vision, their meaning branded into his mind as he ‘read’ them. His heart practically grew still. Was he dreaming? Where is this? Was it safe? Is Glass okay?

[Your companion remains unharmed. He will not be alone long.]

Could it read his mind? The ‘wall’ Silas was leaning against disappeared. He fell hard on his back, staring up at the empty white sky. Was it a sky?

[Would you like to view your Reflection?]

[This is your last chance before your mission]

“Yes?” Silas hesitated, sitting himself up as he stared around the empty space. A thin fog covered a small set of buildings off in the distance. His body felt repulsed by the idea of investigating; he wasn’t sure if it was his own instincts or whatever this Lotus Space did to him.

[Thank you. In the future, simply reply with your ‘intent’]

[Reflection]

Alias: Silvanus Albrecht

Title: N/A

Rating: Unrated

True Name: (Forming)

Strength: Mortal

Innate Talent: Cleanse

Remembrance: Null

Points: Null

Line after line of blue glyphs reappeared within his sight. Slowly, the characters morphed into the typical common he was familiar with. The information was both too much and not enough at the same time.

[Your reflection will be updated in real time. The System will be updated in real time]

[Please become familiar with your innate talent as soon as possible.]

“How do I do that?!”

No response came and Silas was left alone in the Lotus Space. No amount of ‘intent’ summoned the glyphs again. Question after question rang out into the void with no answer. Eventually Silas just sat down against the mysterious white fog and waited. It felt like the soft silk pillows he bought for them after Sebastian became an Empyrean. Each pillow cost him a whole week of pay.

It felt like forever had passed by when the blue glyphs finally returned and brought with them new messages. His heart sank as the contents proved disheartening yet again.

[Evaluation failed. Innate talent remains unfamiliar.]

[Soul based. Threshold: High]

[Memory found]

[Would you like to enter your first mission?]

[Yes/No]

A firm no echoed throughout Silas’ mind and the dialogue option disappeared, yet the rest of the glyphs remained. Was this system testing him? Evaluating him? For what purpose?

[You are a Wayfinder.]

Ignoring the frequent intrusion of his mind, Silas grew quiet. He turned his thoughts into questions and began to receive answers. It wanted him to interact with it using his thoughts, not his voice. This way he wouldn’t get caught by others in the real world.

“I get to go home?”

[If you survive the Memory.]

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After that, he started to get the gist of it. Whatever this system was, pulled him out of Ironside and brought him here to complete Memories. There were rewards but nothing he could access yet. He technically hadn’t even started. He also didn’t have a choice.

[Summoning Memory]

[Time limit: 1 month]

[Mission: Learn their Pathway]

[Start]

The empty white world shifted and flooded with colour. The sky turned bright blue with flowing streaks of white. Rocky hills and vibrant life, verdant forests and thriving green grass surged across the horizon and the soft cloud he rested on was replaced with nothingness. Black beasts soared across the clouds with a myriad of colours lining their figures.

Towering columns rose from the earth and supported the ceiling, carved from the smoothest marble. Intricate designs ran across the surface, winding up the pillars until they struck the roof. Crowds rushed in and out of the Parthenon with hurried steps, their white robes just above the ground as they carried scrolls, books and swords at their hip.

“Aurelius!”

[That’s you.]

“Aurelius! What are you doing on the floor? Teacher is waiting! Quick, quick. It’s the end of the month today!” A dark haired, bright blue eyed figure grabbed him by the hands and quickly pulled him into the Parthenon.

The boy stopped at a set of large doors littered with runes. He smoothed out Silas’ robes quickly and gave him a wry smile. “Jeez, four years and you’re still the same. Act like you were on time and Teacher might let it go.”

Silas was ushered into the room through the large doors. Silas hardly had the time to realise he wasn’t wearing his glasses. The space inside was incredibly vast and utterly empty- about a dozen children sat on cushions in front of a middle aged man. His robes were a purplish black, lined with a dark silver. Long black hair tied back and overcast eyes. The man’s features were sharp and his gaze even sharper, looking towards the two newcomers.

“Aurelius. Zagrian. Sit.”

Nodding quietly, the two stepped past their peers and sat down at the front. Silas mimicked Zagrian as the boy looked through his robes and pulled out a book. One that Silas did not have. “Do you not have your codex, Aurelius?”

He remained quiet with a hesitant shake of his head, staring back at the man; his eyes were a similar colour to his robes with purplish black sclera and silver irises. Silas’ blood ran hot, his hands grew slick with sweat, his gaze unable to be torn from the man’s eyes. He saw something coiled up in the pupils.

“Do you wish to die?” A calm voice snapped him out of his stupor and Silas finally managed to pull his gaze back down towards the floor, gasping for breath. The Teacher stood right before him now, his presence casting a heavy weight on Silas’ shoulders. Firmly, the man repeated, “Do you wish to die?”

“N-no, sir.” Silas stammered, slowly looking back up at the man. The thing in his eyes was gone. Unknowingly, his back straightened and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Yet you looked into the eyes of a True King, a Nightweaver at that. Do you seek death? Are you daft?” The Teacher scowled, waving the long sleeve of his robe with some impatience. “You even lost your Codex. Remain after class and I’ll find you another. Understood?”

Silas exhaled quietly, ignoring the pitiful look Zagrian shot him as the Teacher walked back to the front of the room. The shadows of the hall seemed darker now, moving and swaying at the edges of the light. It felt like myriads of eyes followed his every move from the dark. With a slight shiver, he moved to focus on the lesson.

According to the Teacher, the main form of power in this World weren’t Empyreans but Nightweavers. They gave life to physical nightmares and raised them as a piece of themselves. The codex was the manual given to them, those deemed with potential, to split a piece of their soul to form the Nightmare Seed. Today they were meant to have formed said seed- he had not.

The other students struggled and paled but each of them managed to produce a small, glowing, black veined seed from their chests at the Teacher’s request. Each seed gave off a slightly different, exquisite feeling. The one Zagrian produced was even twice as large as the others, a hint of pride on the boy’s face. He had nothing.

He felt no strange seed in his mind, no flowing energy in his body. Just a sinking feeling of dread as the teacher stared at him expectantly. When a few moments passed and no seed emerged from his chest, the man’s eyes narrowed. Silas could barely react when the man stepped forth and reached his hand down.

[Don’t let him touch you-]

A hand gripped his shoulder hard and an unfamiliar energy flowed through his body. It wrapped around his bones, surged through his veins and filled his mind with a haze. It felt like every piece of him had been seen through and picked apart. The Teacher’s grip faltered for a moment and Silas took the chance to escape from his grasp. Only then did he notice his body slick with cold sweat, his robes soaked through.

“I see. Your mistake is forgiven. I shall resume teaching about how to progress once you’ve formed your Nightmare Seed.” The man stepped back, waving his hand idly at the students. Silas wouldn’t be surprised if the man’s sharp purple nails were poisoned.

The feeling of something washing over and through him like that for the second time today left him shaking, so much so that Zagrian was afraid to even touch him. The rest of the class passed by without a single drop of information sticking for Silas. He was only just gathering himself when the low ring of a bell woke himself from his stupor.

“Class dismissed. I expect your seeds to have reached the Adolescent Stage by next week. Aurelius, with me.” The Nightweaver spoke harshly and stepped towards the back of the room, where a door lay hidden by the shadows. As the darkness dispersed beneath the Teacher’s steps, Silas felt his body compelled to follow.

Bright streaks of red suddenly filled his sight as he stepped through the door. The black ceiling was littered with moving red lines that shot across it like stars. The rest of the small room was almost entirely empty with the exception of a desk. The Teacher sat slowly before gesturing with a wave. “Sit.”

Silas sat down as the man produced a variety of objects from his desk. A thick, heavy book slammed down on the table, bound with a black leather and silver metal. A small white bracelet lay alongside it, whilst all other things disappeared into the man’s sleeve.

“Do you understand what a Nightweaver does, Aurelius?” The Teacher spoke gently, laying back in his chair ever so slightly and propping his feet up on the desk. “They weave dreams. Nightmares, Souls.”

A piercing gaze struck him from the dark corner of the room. A bird appeared, pitch black and easily the size of a person. Its talons were a similar purple colour to the Teacher’s own nails. The familiar weight of fear pressed down on his shoulders as Silas recognized what he saw in the teacher’s eyes.

“Not to mention that a True King such as myself boasts some of the greatest senses in the realm yet even I couldn’t tell anything was really wrong until I laid a hand on you.” The Teacher leaned forward, tapping his sharp nails rhythmically against the desk. “So, tell me then,”

“Why is it not Aurelius’ soul in that body?”