- Rudalia, House of Elowen, central Bethora -
Two figures were standing in a Victorian styled hallway that was dimly lit by candles hanging on the wooden walls. The candles emitted a soothing but strong vanilla-like smell that contributed to the anticipating weight that hung in the air. Facing the adjacent door that led outside was a middle-aged woman clad in a black hooded robe that concealed her face and most of her body features. Her right hand that she raised to turn the doorknob revealed her fair complexion.
Behind her, dressed in a dark brown waistcoat that matched well with his long disheveled brown hair and stubble, was Vash. He made a worrying expression, slowly stepping towards the lady as he spoke to her with a careful tone.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Ulysses?”
“…I have to,” she said, lowering her head. Her soft and angelic tone filling the hallway. “If I don’t do this now, I don’t think I’ll ever have a second chance.”
Vash let out a deep sigh as he closed his eyes.
“Fine. Let us go.”
***
- Ten minutes later -
The both of them had made their way outside, traveling on distinct brown horses over a long stone bridge that led to the outskirts of the city. The sky had a breathtakingly blue-ish look, a indicator that it was very early in the morning. The silence was repeatedly broken by the sounds of the marching horses, yet it seemed to have disturbed Ulysses.
Her face was now a lot more visible than before. She bore gray-ish tresses that fell over her small, beautiful face. Her eyes were as blue as the faraway horizon, glimmering blissfully as she swayed her gaze over the landscape. With Vash riding ahead of her, she turned towards him, and asked with a curious tone,
“You seem a little bleak today, Vash. Everything okay?”
Vash, his eyes fixated forwards, responded with a cold tone.
“…I’m fine.”
“Are you afraid word will spread?”
“Even if that were to happen, we’re doing this for the greater good,” Vash responded. “Lucius trusts your intuitiveness. If The Hand tells the same, then we shouldn’t worry about anything.”
“I know, I know,” Ulysses spoke. “But it makes me feel a little paranoid. The ‘what if everything goes wrong’ keeps haunting my mind. I just… can’t manage to shake it off.”
Right as Vash was about to respond, a flock of creaking black birds flew past them. They were approaching a large, ancient-looking stone gate that led into a large forest
“Well, there’s no going back now. We might as well go with a bang if everything goes wrong. Don’t forget that we’re doing this for the sake of our people.”
With a heavy sigh, Ulysses nodded.
“Yes… you’re right. Let us go.”
***
After setting their horses, they spent numerous minutes traversing the great forest. They eventually approached a solitary path that led towards a statue that looked like an open hand floating atop a pillar. This statue was acknowledged as The Hand, a mystical tale turned into a living legend. Those who would seek to have their minds or dreams read could always find their answers through The Hand’s influence.
Knowing their objective was now just steps away, Vash let out a deep sigh, and glanced at Ulysses, who stood next to him.
“You know how it goes.”
Ulysses silently stepped forward, leaving Vash behind. With each step she took, her right hand began to tremble like a piece of steel slowly approaching a magnet. As troublesome as it felt, Ulysses withstood it, constantly thinking about the purpose of her arrival, and the ramifications she could experience if she didn’t decide to do this.
However, her hand began to convulse rather aggressively, which prevalently turmoiled her from the inside. Sweat began to slide down her face, and her lips started to tremble. She kept her eyes closed, using every ounce of mental fortitude she had left to remain focused. The sensation grew stronger the closer she got to the statue, however, after one final step, everything stopped. It felt like hearing a loud click in your head that snapped everything around you off.
She and Vash let out deep sighs of relief. It was a sensation anyone experienced upon approaching The Hand, but the reason why this always happened have always remained undiscovered. It was believed that The Hand always tested those who sought to approach it. If one failed, they would collapse and be rendered unconscious. Those who passed remained conscious, just as it happened here.
Not wasting a moment, Ulysses raised her hand and gently pressed her palm against The Hand. Right as this happened, a loud sound that resembled a cosmic implosion resounded throughout her head as though her soul was being sucked into The Hand. What followed afterwards was utter and complete darkness; Just like when everything snapped into silence moments earlier, now, everything snapped into darkness.
Seconds passed, and Ulysses’ view slowly materialized, like emerging from the depths of an ocean. A dim light filtering through the water in soft rays, revealing more and more until she finally broke the surface, and a sight she had never seen before was exposed right before her eyes.
She had become a silent observer of a crying pale child dressed in a gray commoner’s shirt, with short hair as white as snow being carried by hundreds of besmirched hands. The sight flew by fast—making it appear like some flash image. Following that image, a bright flash boomed before Ulysses’ sight, and as it faded away, it left behind a second image.
It showed a portrait, or better said painting drawn in an oily Renaissance style. The painting portrayed the lower half of a man, dressed in a crimson-red cape over his black suit, seated on a dark throne. He held a silver scepter embellished with diamonds and engravings in his right hand, and a silver orb that looked as though it contained the laws and powers of the universe in his left hand. The painting alone exuded such a strong sense of sovereignty that it made Ulysses avert her eyes, causing her to disconnect from her ethereal journey.
Yet, right as she was sent back to the real world, a loud and deep voice spoke to her in her mind.
“Do what must be done.”
The voice sounded commanding and intimidating. It startled her, causing her to haul her hand away from the statue, gasping uncontrollably.
Vash was already standing right beside her, and held her in his arms.
“What did it say?”
She had to take several moments to regain her breath. As she held her peace, she gulped, and spoke to Vash with a trembling tone.
“…It told me to do what must be done.”
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- Somewhere in Bethora -
A short figure, dressed in an all black tunic that contrasted sharply against his white hair, was calmly traversing a Victorian-styled hallway with wooden walls. His facial expression seemed unamused—as though his mask he usually wore had slipped, revealing his true countenance underneath. With his arms crossed behind his back, he eventually arrived at a closed wooden door, and gave it a few gentle knocks.
“Who is it?” a deep and rebellious voice sounded, muffled by the door’s obstruction.
“It’s me, Lunar. Mind if I come in?”
A few moments of silence followed after his words.
“…Do as you wish.”
Lunar smiled with closed lips and slowly pushed the door open—revealing a spacious room with dark wooden walls. The room comprised a large but modest-looking bed at the right corner, a closet, and tens of empty wine bottles scattered across the wooden surface.
There was a strong stench of the wine still present within this room—perhaps the floor was tainted with the fluids and had been left uncleaned. Lunar slightly recoiled his head as he further stepped into the room.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“Seems like you had some fun lately.”
“No, not at all,” the other person groaned as he stood up. Scratching his scalp. He was a tall and semi-muscular young man with a blonde buzz cut, sharp eyes that appeared emaciated, and an olive skin complexion. The only thing he wore was a pair of wide black pants that billowed around him with each step he took. His chiseled upper body was covered with scars.
He let out a long yawn—stretching his arms wide in the air—as he continued.
“These bottles are from two days ago. Despite not having taken a sip from these, I feel super hangover…”
Lunar responded with a calm tone.
“Do you have any idea why?”
The other person ticked his tongue and walked towards a window on the other end of the room, his back facing Lunar. It was very early in the morning, so the sky appeared blue-ish, dimly illuminating the room.
He let out a deep sigh and lowered his head.
“Lunar, I have to tell you something.”
Lunar slightly tilted his head to the left.
“Is it the dream?”
As soon as he heard Lunar’s words, he frowned, and turned towards him.
“Y- yes… how did you…?”
“You weren’t the only one who experienced that long and immersive dream, Emory.”
Emory scrutinized Lunar’s eyes, contemplating his words. One would understandably wonder how Lunar, out of all people, was aware that Emory had experienced such a dream. However, that thought hadn’t crossed his mind. The dream by itself seemed so paradoxical and disconnected from reality that something like an interconnected dream wouldn’t seem too crazy to be a thing.
Lunar continued. Crossing his arms behind his back as he stepped past Emory, facing the window.
“The strangest thing for me was that it felt as if I spent many years in that dream—living in the heart of Deneve, Ventoria. When I woke up, only a night had passed.”
Emory took a seat on the edge of his bed, weaving his fingers through his hair.
“I saw everyone, Lunar. You, Geneve, Declan, August… and some bloke I couldn’t get out of my head…”
Lunar looked at him over his shoulder.
“Did you mean the boy named Caelum?”
Emory’s eyes immediately widened upon hearing that name. He looked up to Lunar with a shocked expression.
“Yes! That was his name!”
As he regained his composure, he lowered his head again, as though an unprecedented sensation of sadness washed over him.
“Caelum…”
“What is the last thing you remember about him?” Lunar asked.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Emory responded, staring at his right opened palm. “Someone who doesn’t exist, and still manages to impact you so strongly.”
He let out a deep sigh and continued.
“We were standing against each other, somewhere around the Gaian Academy in Ventoria. It was this beautiful-looking place that gave off a strong medieval feeling. I can’t really remember the specifics, but he challenged me to some kind of battle.”
“A battle, you say?”
“…I don’t know.”
“Hm,” Lunar sounded. He closed his eyes and walked towards the door with his arms crossed behind his back.
“Get yourself ready. It’s duty hour. There’s a patrolling job we need to undertake, but I’ll give you some time to marinate your mind.”
“Where are we going?” Emory asked, his eyes following Lunar’s passing figure. He stopped before the door and gave Emory a final look over his shoulder.
“The South. Vash is leading the squad. You got twenty minutes.”
“Alright, see you soon.”
As Lunar departed, Emory was left behind in a daze. He stared at the surface for a minute as the only thing he could think of was Caelum’s face—the moment he declared his challenge to him with a big, rebellious smile on his face. After this, Emory let out a deep sigh, and went on to proceed with his morning routine.
It was a simple routine. He grabbed a brown towel from the closet and cleansed himself. Afterwards, he clothed himself with a brown sleeveless sweater over a white blouse and black pants. As he finished preparing himself, he exited his room, and went downstairs.
He eventually entered the main living space that was brightly lit by a large chandelier. It was embellished with dark green couches, a large wooden table in the middle, and dozens of furnitures like lamps, ash trays, and bust statues depicting important figures. Seated at one of these couches was Madeline, donning a beautiful white Gothic dress that blended seamlessly with her pale skin and silver-white hair. Her back was facing Emory, so he sounded to her first.
“Hey, Mady.”
She turned around with a curious expression until her eyes met Emory’s, causing her face to turn normal.
“Morning, Emory. How are you feeling?”
He took a seat next to her with a deep sigh.
“I don’t know. Had such a weird dream.”
Madeline frowned and grasped Emory’s sweater.
“You too?!” she exclaimed, as Emory recoiled his head. “Tell me, what did you see?”
“I… have vague recollections,” he responded, pushing her hands away. “But I do know that everything took place in that faraway country, Deneve. We enrolled as Gaian students, just as we are now, and participated in the Inquisi-”
“That’s exactly what I dreamed of as well!” she shouted, cutting his words off. “Could this be… a shared dream?”
Emory remained silent in response, staring back at her with a confused face.
“Trust me, I’ve read about this. Apparently, there’s a phenomenon called Somnium Universalis. It all happened somewhere in the third age, by the same guy who came up with the Productivity Spectrum theory. Gaizer was his name, I believe.”
“And?” Emory asked.
“There’s not much else, actually,” she continued, returning to a normal seating position with her head lowered. “It was said that he ‘came too close to the knowledge of the Gods’ after he proposed this idea to his close friend Darius, who was, at that point, a close associate of the Gaian Temple. It happened just a week before he ‘mysteriously’ disappeared, too.”
“So basically, you’re saying that he came up with an idea, but he never had the chance to flesh that idea out?”
“More or less. He did try to stem it from magical interference. That seemed like the most reasonable explanation, considering the world we live in.”
“It may just be coincidence, Maddy,” he sighed, crossing his arms. “I don’t think anyone would want to target random Rudalians to put them all into a collective dream.”
“Coincidence? I think not,” she shook her head. “I remember spending literal years inside that dream. I seriously lived a story that was written solely for the ‘Madeline’ who lived in Ventoria.”
“…We should head to the church after our patrol duty. Maybe they have some more answers,” Emory said with a defeated tone. This caused Madeline to smile mischievously with squinted eyes as she leaned towards him.
“Oh my, look at that. Is Emory finally starting to become an orthodox follower of Urdall?”
“Shut it,” he said, ticking his tongue. “Now’s not the time to fuck around. Where are the others?”
“They’re at the headquarters.”
A third voice broke through. It was an attractive feminine voice. Deep and alluring. It was followed by footsteps approaching the two from a small distance. They both turned their heads to their left, and saw Geneve approaching them. She was dressed in a black waistcoat over her white blouse that matched well with her black pants. She crossed her arms with a closed smile on her face.
***
- The Headquarters -
In one of the main office rooms, Vash sat on his wooden table, surrounded by three others: August, Albert, and Rowena. August and Albert were dressed in white blouses with black pants, while Rowena was dressed in a black turtleneck sweater with black pants.
With his arms crossed, Vash muttered to them, his eyes aimlessly staring into the distance.
“A collective dream, you say…”
“It is acknowledged as the Somnium Universalis,” August said, closing his eyes. “It is most likely magical interference, since a coincidence of this gratitude is simply improbable.”
“A dream could never feel as real as this,” Albert chimed in, frowning. “Something, or someone is the cause of this.”
“Do you still remember the final part?” August asked.
“…Yes, I do,” he nodded. “It looked like just another typical day when the entire world was suddenly enshrouded in complete darkness. That was when I began feeling as though my life was being sucked away from me. Compare it to a syringe extracting every ounce of blood you have in your body. That’s how it felt…”
“That is a good way of putting it,” Rowena chimed in, crossing her arms. “We even co-existed with those from The Cadence, all within the heart of Deneve. I first assumed that perhaps Urdall, or one of His followers played a role in this collective dream. Both Deneve and Rudalia are acolytes of His church, and He’s known to convey His messages in rather unconventional ways.”
“But what kind of message does He wish to show us by making us all experience the same dream? Not only that, but why would He create a dream revolving around that white haired fellow?” Albert responded, frowning slightly. August nodded in concurrence.
“Right. That is the part I remember the clearest. Caelum was his name, and he was presumably born with two Grimoires. Not only we, but even those from The Cadence came up with plans to eradicate him from the Inquisition, because of how unprincipled it seemed to have such a person among us.”
He then slowly raised his head but kept his pupils low.
“However—greed—or perhaps gluttony—would soon bleed into our minds. We wanted to consume his Grimoire for our own sake.”
Vash stood up, put his hands in his pockets, and slowly walked towards the adjacent door.
“There is obviously a lot that goes on right now, but there’s something we need to do first. Ulysses had been given confirmation that someone important may be residing in the South. The dream she experienced suggested that The Great Uniter may really not just be a legend.”
The others remained quiet in response. Each of them caught in their own thought trains. However, this was not the time for speculation, and Vash understood that.
“Ten minutes before we depart. Ready yourselves up.”
The three of them harmonically said “Yes, sir,” before they all left the room, leaving Vash behind. He walked towards a window at the left side of the room, and simply stared at the morning sky in silence.
End of chapter 51.
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