- 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

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“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.”