Jaxith remained imperturbable within the swirling mist, his steed standing patiently beside him. An eerie stillness pervaded the air, punctuated only by sporadic, indeterminate movements in the immediate vicinity. Despite his keen olfactory senses, Jaxith could detect no trace of Irene – she had vanished without a trace.
“As I’ve encountered in the monsters codex,” Jaxith mused, “these creatures manipulate the mist with a special ability by its divine energy, rendering it an impenetrable barrier to sound and scent. In addition to the blinding haze which disorients, making detection nearly impossible. If Irene remains unconscious, and I gravely doubt she can rouse herself, this entity will consume her very soul. I must locate her or eradicate it – swift action is paramount either way.”
Jaxith remained vigilant, his senses hyper-alert. The mist won’t give Jaxith enough time to react to any attack. The close-range perception demanded a calculated response, as any hasty movement could prove fatal.
The Onohly’s initial assault was swift and unexpected. The horse whinnied, its gaze darting backwards. Jaxith, with the alacrity of a striking viper, unleashed his negative abyss, propelling himself around with explosive force towards the direction of the horse’s gaze. A sharp, metallic limb lashed out from the dense mist, the collision with Jaxith’s sword igniting a shower of sparks. The appendage recoiled as swiftly as it had appeared. Jaxith, conserving his strength, deactivated his negative energy. Indiscriminate use would leave him breathless and vulnerable, a sitting duck for any opportunistic predator like that.
“It no longer views me as mere prey,” Jaxith mused, a flicker of grim satisfaction in his eyes. “Apparently, slumber equates to a slow, agonizing demise. Now that I’m awake, even if albeit a tad disoriented, I’ve become the intruder, the trespasser in its domain.”
A sudden movement to his right jolted him into action. He whirled around, his hand instinctively swaying his sword. Then, he froze. It was Irene, approaching cautiously.
“Jaxith? Where are we?” Irene’s voice, laced with concern, washed over Jaxith, bringing him a surge of relief.
“By the great gods, I feared for your safety,” Jaxith confessed, lowering his sword and taking a cautious step towards her. But the horse whinnied, a thunderous sound that shattered the moment. An appendage, swift as a viper’s strike, erupted from behind Jaxith at his feet level. Jaxith, with a reflexive movement, deployed his negative abyss, deflecting the blow with his sword. The limb recoiled, defeated.
“Damn it, that was close! It aimed for my leg, a calculated move to cripple me. If not for the horse… Irene, stay clo-“ Jaxith spun around, searching for Irene. But she was gone. Vanished. Hallucinations? But he was awake, wasn’t he? Disorientation clouded his vision, and a cacophony of voices echoed in his mind, a maddening assault on his senses.
The horse whinnied again, a chilling warning. Another attack, this time from the left. Then another, and another, a relentless barrage from unseen assailants, until it finally stopped. Jaxith, his reserves dwindling, deactivated his negative abyss, gasping for breath, his mind reeling.
“I must find a way to reach Irene. Prolonged exposure to this miasma will undoubtedly weaken me further. It seems the mist itself harbors a hallucinogenic toxin, not merely serving as a sanctuary for the Onohly,” Jaxith declared, his gaze fixed on the horse. He observed the animal’s ears twitching incessantly, swiveling in every direction before finally settling on a specific point. Following the horse’s lead, Jaxith turned his head towards that direction and the horse let out a loud, challenging neigh. An appendage, swift and deadly, erupted from the mist, precisely where the horse had been looking. Jaxith reacted with practiced ease, deflecting the blow with his sword. The limb recoiled, vanishing back into the obscuring gloom.
“He noticed every move from the beast, his senses are remarkably acute. He hasn’t succumbed to slumber, nor is he beset by hallucinations,” Jaxith observed, impressed. The horse’s ears twitched, once again fixating on a particular point. Then, with a sudden shift, the animal’s attention veered in another direction, culminating in a forceful whinny. Jaxith mirrored the horse’s actions, anticipating the attack and deflecting the limb with practiced ease, as always. The appendage recoiled, its assault thwarted.
“The beast is constantly shifting its position, and the horse detects each subtle movement with uncanny precision. This could prove invaluable,” Jaxith mused. He pulled his shirt upwards, covering his nose and mouth to minimize inhalation of the toxic mist. By reducing his exposure to the hallucinogenic gas, he hoped to mitigate the risk of succumbing to the insidious illusions.
“Come, Irene, we’re late for the announcement,” Leo urged, his voice a low murmur as Irene descended the stairs beneath the trapdoor leading to their clandestine hideout. Reaching the bottom, they sprinted through a labyrinth of tunnels, finally arriving at a crimson cloak draped over the entrance. Leo swept it aside, revealing the chamber beyond, alive with the murmur of voices and the convivial buzz of conversation.
“Hurry, Michael will commence shortly,” Leo said, ushering Irene into the room. The chamber was teeming with Shadow Seekers, their faces illuminated by the flickering torchlight. Irene surveyed the scene, her gaze drinking in the vibrant atmosphere, the infectious laughter, the camaraderie that pulsed through the room. A slow smile spread across her lips, quickly followed by a cascade of tears. Leo, ever observant, noticed her sudden distress.
“‘Why are you weeping now?’ Leo inquired, concern lacing his tone. Irene met his gaze, dabbing at the tears that still streamed down her face.
“Nothing,” she replied, a hint of a smile gracing her lips. “I feared I had lost you all.”
“Lost us? How, Irene? I sense a high level touch of bluffing right now from you,” Leo teased, raising an eyebrow.
“When that as-…” Irene faltered, her voice trailing off. Leo stared at her, bewilderment etched on his features.
“What?” he exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I-I, I cannot recall,” Irene confessed, her brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t know why, but I’m overwhelmed by this unsettling feeling, a sense that something is definitely wrong around me now.”
“Now you’re officially certified as a lunatic, a first-class specimen. Perhaps it suits you better than the moniker of “clever thief” you think you are,” Leo declared, his laughter ringing through the chamber. Irene glared at him, her amusement fleeting.
“Funny, Leo, at least I don’t get caught by old women while snatching their purses in the market, asshole,” Irene said sarcastically. Leo’s laughter abruptly ceased. And another laughter bursted from behind them.
“She got you again, man, she rocked you, HAHAHA,” chuckled Flen, their other friend.
“Hey, Flen, how are you? I somehow feel like I’ve missed you too, and I… don’t know why,” Irene said.
“Because I’m the most beloved guy in the seekers, and when I’m gone for a few hours, everyone misses the best,” Flen declared proudly.
“She’s just missing everyone today, Flen, and she doesn’t look good,” Leo said, concerned.
“Nightmares again?” Flen inquired sympathetically.
“To be honest, I’m not certain,” Irene confessed, her brow furrowed. “maybe I was in a strange dream, I don’t know if it was a nightmare or much more realistic than just a dream, or am I in one?”
A searing pain lanced through her skull, a sudden, jolting sensation that vanished as swiftly as it had appeared. She instinctively pressed a hand to her head, a wave of dizziness washing over her.
“Careful!” Leo exclaimed, rushing towards her. Irene appeared to teeter on the verge of collapse, but she managed to regain her balance, raising a hand to deter his assistance.
“I am fine, I assure you,” she insisted, though her voice lacked conviction. “It’s just that I feel that something is wrong, something is missing, something I don’t remember.”
“Irene, you are clearly not well,” Flen interjected, his concern palpable. Her assurances ring hollow. She is even perspiring. Flen’s gaze fixed on her clammy brow. Irene’s eyes shifted to Leo with an unspoken plea.
“Hey Leo, do you remember the person I asked you about?” Irene asked, her gaze fixed on him. Leo, however, appeared bewildered by her question.
“What person?” he countered.
Irene stared at him, a mixture of shock and confusion clouding her features. She had, without a doubt, posed the question moments before their entry into the house. How could he have forgotten? And how could she have forgotten the name too? Wait! She forgot the name of the person she was asking about too! A sense of bewilderment washed over her, momentarily paralyzing her thoughts. Then, she noticed Michael entering the room, his presence shattering the spell.
“Hey, Michael, I-I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about everything I’ve done,” Irene interjected, her voice a rapid-fire torrent of words. “I know you’ve always been a trustworthy person and that’s why Lance left the charge for you, I just couldn’t handle the change and was against every decision you made. And I recently I made a big mistake that made me loss all of you.”
Michael regarded her with a mixture of concern and apprehension, his gaze lingering on her flushed features, clearly perplexed by her sudden, seemingly unprompted confession.
“‘Irene, I am gratified to witness this nascent understanding between us. However, I confess I am perplexed by your current demeanor. You seem… troubled, my dear. Please, confide in me,” Michael urged, gently patting her shoulder in an attempt to offer solace. Irene met his gaze, her eyes wide with apprehension.
“I… I cannot remember what happened, Micheal, but I remember it being something awful.” She stammered, her voice trembling on the verge of tears.
“There is no need for panicking,” Michael soothed, his voice calm and reassuring. “Perhaps it was merely a vivid dream, no different from any other. But know this, I stand by your side, as will every member of this brotherhood. I have always believed in you, Irene. My sternness, though perhaps unwelcome at times, stemmed from a genuine concern for your well-being. I sought to foster your independence, to shield you from harm, to temper your impulsive nature. You possess a compassionate heart, a desire to aid all, but unchecked, your fervor can be a detriment. Learn to control your emotions, and you will not only benefit yourself but also those you strive to protect.”
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Irene listened intently, her gaze fixed on Michael, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. A profound sadness enveloped her, though its origin remained elusive. She quickly brushed away the tear, forcing a smile.
“I’m sorry for……. This.” She murmured.
“There is no need for apologies, Irene,” Michael assured her, returning her smile.
“Before you go I’ve an important question Michael.” Irene announced.
“Proceed,” Michael encouraged.
“There is a man that I need to find, his name was…..” Irene began, her voice trailing off.
“Who?” Michael prompted.
“Leo, I asked you about him, do you remember?” Irene inquired, her gaze fixed on Leo.
Leo, however, appeared bewildered. “Irene, you didn’t ask me about anything.”
Irene stared at him, a chilling wave of apprehension washing over her. “But how don’t you remember? I clearly remember that I told you about someone when you found me on that haystack, I just don’t know how I easily forget him although I remember him helping me.”
Michael, Leo, and Flen exchanged bewildered glances, their expressions mirroring the incredulity they felt. They regarded Irene as one might observe a creature of unsound mind.
“Irene, I believe you may be conflating your dreams with reality. No one has ever offered you aid outside the confines of the Shadow Seekers. You must be… imagining things,” Michael stated, his voice grave.
“THAT WAS NOT A DREAM!” Irene’s voice erupted, shattering the tranquility of the chamber. All eyes turned towards her, concern etched on their faces. She realized with a jolt that her anger was resurfacing.
“That wasn’t a dream, you gotta believe me, it felt real, there was someone helping me, I-I just can’t remember him, I can’t understand what’s happening and I feel that everything is falling apart.” Irene confessed, tears welling in her eyes. She paused, her gaze sweeping across the room, where a sense of jubilation permeated the air.
“Although what’s going around me now feels good, a feeling that I missed, voices I thought that I won’t hear them again,. It also feels wrong, feels like it’s out of its place, I know I sound crazy, but there’s something wrong and I don’t know how, it’s just wrong.” Tears streamed down her face. Michael, moved by her distress, knelt before her.
“I believe I may not be understanding you clearly, young girl, but I do understand that you are experiencing profound distress. You feel adrift, isolated despite being surrounded by your comrades. An illusion of peace, you say? Regardless, savor these moments, even if they are fleeting. Who knows what the future may hold? Embrace the present, Irene, and refrain from self-criticism. It will serve you better in the long run,” Michael offered, gently wiping away her tears. Irene met his gaze, then shifted her attention to Leo and Flen, whose faces mirrored her own unease.
“I’m happy to see you, guys, I really do, but I’m sorry, I can’t hide my feelings easily like that, it won’t make me comfortable.” Irene confessed. Suddenly, a peculiar phenomenon caught her eye. In the heart of the assembled Seekers, an eerie red luminescence emanated, an anomaly that seemed to defy perception, as if invisible to all but her. Irene fixated on this enigmatic source of light, her mind reeling.
“Irene? Irene?” Michael’s voice, a distant echo, barely registered as Irene’s attention became singularly fixated on the luminescence. The source of the light intensified, drawing closer, navigating effortlessly through the throng of Seekers. And then, it materialized – a colossal, crimson cloud, towering ominously above the human figures. But it was not the sheer size that proved unsettling. Embedded within the swirling red mass were two piercingly white eyes, staring directly into Irene’s own. Time seemed to decelerate, the vibrant energy of the gathering fading into insignificance. All perception narrowed, focusing solely on the enigmatic cloud and its unnervingly intelligent gaze.
A disconcerting numbness crept through her fingertips, a chilling sensation that intensified as the ominous cloud drew closer. The vibrant energy of the gathering faded, as if all her senses were converging upon the spectral entity. Her breath hitched, her body shivering with a sudden, paralyzing cold. A wave of terror washed over her, leaving her utterly immobilized, a mere spectator to this nightmarish apparition. In a desperate bid to escape the horrifying spectacle, she willed her eyelids closed, a feeble attempt to regain control in the face of this overwhelming dread.
And then, a flicker of memory. Jaxith’s voice, a stark warning echoing in the recesses of her mind: “You don’t want to do this, believe me.” The chilling words, uttered during their first encounter, resurfaced with startling clarity. She had been on the precipice of self-destruction, driven to despair, when Jaxith had intervened, appearing almost instantaneously. Now, the realization dawned upon her: his uncanny speed, his ability to appear seemingly out of thin air, was a manifestation of his mastery over the negative abyss. The vivid memories flooded back – his unwavering support, his unwavering belief in her, his instrumental role in resolving the conflict with the mayor, his unwavering protection against the would-be assassin. And perhaps most significantly, his gentle encouragement, his patient guidance, that had allowed her, for the first time in her life, to forge a connection with an animal, the horse.
“Ease your tension, Irene. Avoid any sudden movements that might alarm him. It is crucial to maintain a calm and reassuring presence.”Jaxith’s voice, calm and reassuring, echoed within her mind, a beacon of tranquility in the face of mounting terror. Heeding his advice, she slowly pried open her eyelids, but the sight that met her gaze was enough to make her gasp in horror.
The amorphous cloud had undergone a grotesque metamorphosis, transforming into a humanoid figure of immense stature. It was no longer a mere spectral entity, but a terrifying, sentient form, its body entirely enveloped in a swirling crimson shroud. Though limbs were now discernible, the creature remained shrouded in an aura of unsettling ambiguity, a spectral silhouette against the backdrop of the bewildered crowd.
The bleached white eyes, burning with an unsettling intensity, remained fixed upon her. A chilling sensation, a premonition of impending doom, washed over her. The creature raised its hand, a menacing gesture that sent a jolt of terror through her. Paralysis still gripped her, her body frozen in a state of abject fear. The heat emanating from its approaching hand intensified, searing her skin. Panic surged through her, yet she was utterly helpless, incapable of even a single cry of distress. The realization of her own vulnerability proved more terrifying than the creature itself.
Finally, the hand reached its destination, its icy touch against her forehead. A searing pain, a jolt of agonizing energy, surged through her, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
“AWAKE!,” boomed a voice, chillingly profound, not of mortal origin. The voice, though devoid of elevated volume, instilled a terror in Irene that eclipsed the dread of the colossal, crimson behemoth. As the entity concluded its utterance, a torrent of harrowing memories surged through her, memories she had desperately sought to bury. The grisly spectacle of her slaughtered comrades, their blood splattered across the chamber, limbs strewn like discarded refuse, replayed vividly in her mind. The assassin, a macabre figure standing amidst the carnage, surveyed her with chilling indifference before advancing with deliberate, predatory grace. Now, the veil of illusion shattered, the truth of her ordeal crystallized. The fleeting moments of joy, the camaraderie she had cherished, were but phantasmal echoes of a reality irrevocably lost. She was just living in an illusionary peace.
“AWAKE!,” the voice thundered again, a relentless assault on her psyche, dredging up the agonizing memories she had barely managed to suppress.
“Noooooooooo!” shrieked Irene, the sound erupting from her lips with such raw, primal force that it ruptured the ethereal mist, sending vibrations reverberating through the very fabric of the surrounding environment. This was no ordinary scream; it was a torrent of divine energy, a cerulean wave surging forth, a testament to the overwhelming shock that had seized the young girl.
Jaxith, startled by the ear-splitting cry, felt the mist around him tremble in response to its resonating power. His steed, a magnificent creature, whinnied in alarm, its hooves pounding against the ground as it bolted forward.
“That’s Irene! She’s in peril! We must hasten! The sound emanated from this direction,” Jaxith declared, pointing towards the source of the scream. He vaulted onto the horse’s back, his right hand instinctively gripping the sword hilt, while his left secured the reins. A flurry of appendages lashed out, seeking to impede their progress, a predictable, yet nonetheless menacing, assault. But Jaxith, having anticipated these attacks, effortlessly deflected them, his focus unwavering. Reaching Irene was paramount; only then could he confront the monstrous Onohly without the added burden of her safety.
Irene, huddled against the bole of a solitary tree, was a picture of desolation. Enveloped by the chilling mist, she sat alone, trembling with fear, a poignant reminder of Jaxith’s absence. Tears welled in her eyes as the suffocating loneliness descended, and the specter of her lost friends returned to haunt her. The malevolent cloud, a tormentor from her past, had once again thrust her into the heart of that horrifying ordeal. The chilling familiarity of the scene, the echoes of her comrades’ laughter and animated conversations, now felt like a cruel, mocking illusion. A desperate longing to rewind time, to avert the catastrophe that had shattered her world, consumed her. But such a feat was impossible, a futile yearning against the inexorable march of fate.
Just as despair threatened to engulf her, a subtle rustle in the tree disturbed the tranquility above. Her head snapped up, eyes darting towards source of the sound: a seemingly innocuous branch swaying gently in the mist. In a heartbeat, the illusion shattered. A grotesque appendage, a limb of some unseen monstrosity, erupted from the branch, hurtling towards Irene with terrifying speed!