The venerable old Lycae sat on a tree stump on the middle of the Grenbelm forest – or what served as the forest in this memory prism filled with the bodies of the dead.
Jun'Ei...actually sitting here before him.
“How…” Ethan began, stumbling forwards as he tried to avoid the innards he was treading in. “How do I know this is real?”
I don’t detect any illusion magic on her, Sys offered calmly.
Even so…I’ve seen nothing I can trust in this place, Ethan thought. Could he even trust that that voice belonged to Sys at all?
Jun’Ei’s aged body heaved in response. It looked to Ethan that she – aged beyond all reason – was carrying a deep pain in her bones that she was barely able to suppress.
“You have learned not to trust your own senses,” she said. “As I would expect of the Archon. None of your brothers or sisters grew to appreciate just how little one can do alone. In their hubris, they fell. You, Ethan Hawke, must trust in more than yourself.”
Just then Ethan heard a rustling of the blood-soaked bushes behind him.
He spun around, scythe at the ready, just in time to see Klax emerge from the forest, dragging the body of a dead Nervestalker behind him. The wolfman’s face was worn with exhaustion, but his eyes were bright, alive with the intensity of battle. His fur was matted with blood, his muscles taut from the struggle he had just endured.
Spirit Cores: + 500
Current Spirit Cores: 1650
So, the Nervestalker of this prism is already dead, Ethan thought, staring at the limp creature Klax dragged behind him. Which means…
“She’s real, Ethan,” Klax said, his voice firm but almost reverent as his eyes locked onto Jun’Ei. “I know her. My eyes know her. My heart knows her.”
Ethan looked back and forth between Klax and Jun’Ei, still torn between disbelief and reality. But Klax’s conviction, the way his usually stoic face softened when he looked at Jun’Ei—it was undeniable.
Ethan’s grip on his scythe loosened slightly. His gut told him that this might be different. This might be the real Jun’Ei. But that only raised more questions.
“Klax, how can you be sure?” Ethan asked, still wary.
Klax dropped the Nervestalker’s corpse onto the ground with a thud and walked past Ethan, his gaze fixed on the dogwoman. His voice was quiet, but it carried an emotion that Ethan hadn’t heard from him before.
“I’ve been searching for her for so long,” Klax said, standing just a few feet away from Jun’Ei now. “I’ve imagined this moment a thousand times. This... feeling, it’s more than real. I know it’s her.”
Jun’Ei’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she met Klax’s gaze, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still between them. The weight of their history, their love, and their separation hung heavy in the air.
“Dearest Klax,” she groaned. “Our time here is short. Our destinies – even shorter. But still, it pleases me to see you again.”
The wolfman bowed low, clutching the pendant at his neck. There was nothing but peace within his old eyes now.
But Ethan, still the pragmatist, needed answers. He stepped forward, his voice cutting through the silence. “If you’re real, Jun’Ei, then tell me—what do you want? Why are you here?”
Jun’Ei turned her gaze toward Ethan, her voice gentle but filled with an ancient power. “I am here because time is running out. Your path is converging with mine, and the choices you make now will determine the fate of Argwyll and its people.”
Ethan’s mind raced, the weight of her words sinking in. “What choices? What do you mean? All I want is freedom. A way for everything we do to matter at all.”
Jun’Ei’s eyes darkened, her voice low and commanding as she responded. “Freedom is what you seek, and it is a worthy desire. But there is more than one path to freedom, Ethan Hawke. You could walk Tara’s path and spill the blood of every human in Argwyll. You could burn this world to ash and break Kaedmon’s Law by force. Or...”
“Or what?” Ethan asked, his breath catching as he leaned forward.
“Or,” Jun’Ei continued, her voice growing softer, “you can break the Law without shedding so much blood. There is a way—a way that has been hidden from you until now.”
Ethan’s brow furrowed. “What way? How?”
Jun’Ei’s expression grew grave, the weight of her next words hanging in the air. “To break Kaedmon’s Law without the destruction of Argwyll, you must find where my physical body lies. It is there that the key resides. My memory holds the knowledge you seek. But for you to access it, you must possess me, Ethan. Only through possession can you unlock the secrets hidden within me.”
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“Possess you?” Ethan repeated, his mind reeling at the idea. “How do I—”
“There is no time for more,” Jun’Ei interrupted, her voice strained. “My captors are returning. The power I have here is waning.”
Klax’s face paled at the mention of her captors, and he took a step closer to her, his voice desperate. “Jun’Ei... I’m coming for you. I swear it. I’ll find you, wherever you are.”
Jun’Ei’s eyes softened as she looked at Klax, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I know, Klax. I’ve always known. It is in your nature, and it is your choice.”
Before Klax could respond, the dream world around them began to flicker and tremble, cracks forming in the sky above as the illusion started to shatter.
“W-wait!” Ethan cried. Coming forward to take hold of the woman. “How do I find you? Where are-“
Her old claws shot out on impulse, almost like she was trying to drag him into the depths of whatever hell she was stuck in. And it was hell – of that, Ethan became certain.
As she pressed his arms with real, tangible pressure, he saw an island appearing through dark, treacherous mists. An island off of Argwyll’s…Eastern coast. An island dominated by storms, a lush jungle and…hidden deep within its bowels…a prison. A fortress. A dark place where secrets were kept from the world. Where the screams of traitors rung out long into the night where no one would hear them…
He knew the name of this place without asking her. She was transferring the information to him – along with all her dread. This place – this nightmare stronghold – that was where they’d been keeping her all this time since her capture.
Griffon’s Watch. The Prison colony.
“Find me, Ethan Hawke” Jun’Ei called out, her voice fading as the world disintegrated. “Find me. And free us all.”
The dream-world died. The bodies of the forest merged into one mass of liquid crimson.
“I…I have to kill him first,” Ethan told the old Lycae’s fading eyes. “The Lightborn. He’s…he’s waiting…”
“Do you?”
Outside the bounds of space and time, Klax shouted. He ran forward. He tried to reach them.
But whatever magic Jun’Ei had over this place was more powerful than anything Ethan had felt in Argwyll. She held her form until she could deliver what she needed to.
“We are prisoners in this world, Ethan Hawke,” she told him. “All of us.”
He looked at her as a strange and unmistakable look of sympathy came over her eyes.
Sympathy…for who?
Him? Klax? Or someone else?
He didn’t have time to answer. Instead, she gripped him with all the power she had left at her command, and pressed something into his chest.
“There is one last gift I can give you,” she said. “When the time comes, think of freedom. Think of the dream you hold within yourself – the dream you share with all your brethren. And you will know how to use what I shall bestow upon you.”
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Artorious stood alone in the dark void, the oppressive silence pressing in on him from all sides. He stared at his reflection in the blackened glass before him—his own face, twisted in pain, eyes filled with guilt.
“You’re a failure.”
The voice was his own, but it was laced with venom, dripping with disdain. His reflection sneered at him, mocking him with every word. “You failed Gyko. You failed your people. And you’ll fail again.”
Artorious clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he resisted the urge to strike the glass. “I’m not a failure.”
“Really?” the reflection taunted, stepping closer. “Look at yourself, Artorious. The great Lightborn. The chosen one. And yet, every time you stand at the precipice of victory, you falter. You hesitate.”
Artorious’ jaw tightened, but before he could respond, the voices of the other Lightborn began to echo around him, their ghostly forms appearing in the void. They surrounded him, their eyes cold and judgmental.
“You are not like us,” one of them said, his voice low and full of accusation.
“You don’t have the strength to do what must be done,” another added, her voice sharp like a blade.
And then there was Krea—the greatest of the Lightborn. She stood tall, her wings shimmering with a blinding light, her eyes filled with disappointment.
“You will fail again, Artorious,” Krea said, her voice carrying the weight of centuries. “You will never be what this world needs.”
The words cut deep, but Artorious refused to bow beneath them. He had heard them before. He had faced these demons before.
“I don’t need your approval,” Artorious spat, his voice filled with defiance. “I know what I’ve done. I know my failings. But I also know what I’m capable of.”
His reflection laughed, stepping closer until it was mere inches from him. “Do you? Then why do you hesitate? Why do you always hesitate when it matters most?”
Artorious’ hand shot out, gripping the hilt of his rapier. “I hesitate because I care. But that doesn’t make me weak. It makes me stronger.”
Without another word, Artorious drew his blade and struck his reflection, shattering the glass into a thousand shards. The pieces fell around him, dissolving into nothing as the void began to lift.
The ghostly figures of the other Lightborn faded as well, their voices growing quieter until they were nothing more than distant whispers.
Artorious stood alone once more, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. He had faced his past, his doubts, his fears. And he had moved past them.
He opened his eyes to find himself standing at the peak of the Nerve Tower, the cool wind brushing against his skin. The sun was setting on the horizon, casting the world in a warm golden light.
Behind him, he heard footsteps. He didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
“Carliah,” he said, his voice steady.
She stepped up beside him, her face hardened from the trials they had just endured. “You made it through, then?”
He nodded. “We both did.”
“Hmpf,” she snorted. “Maybe you’re finally learning from your past.”
“And the others?”
The Commander shook her head, not meeting the Lightborn’s eyes.
“It is fitting, Arty, is it not?” she smiled. “That it would be the two of us who stood here at the end, ready to undo all your mistakes.”
He felt his fist grip and his teeth chatter with charged energy. But he steeled himself. She wasn’t the enemy. Not right now.
They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared experiences hanging between them. The nightmares they had faced—the doubts, the fears—they were still there, but they had come out the other side stronger.
Artorious glanced at the great doors before them, the final obstacle that stood in their way. The Boss Door. Beyond it, their fate awaited. The place they’d make their final stand.
“It’ll be just like old times, dear Arty,” she told him as she stepped forward through the foggy sheath that concealed the Boss of the City. “The tale of the Demon Hat, and that of the Archon, ends here.”