The traveler trailed the two sentinels and their drugged companion through the Sanctuary of Dreams. Their footsteps echoed softly in the stillness, and the pale, ghostly glow of the bioluminescent flora cast eerie shadows on the ground. The traveler’s heart raced with a mix of anticipation and trepidation as he shadowed the mysterious trio.
The sentinels moved with a purposeful stride, their armor-clad forms a stark contrast to the serenity of the surroundings. The elderly man between them was clearly disoriented, his gaze vacant, his steps unsteady. It was evident that he had been drugged, but the traveler couldn’t fathom why.
As they delved deeper into the sanctuary, the traveler’s curiosity intensified. He couldn’t help but ponder the purpose behind bringing this man here, especially in his current condition. Weren’t they supposed to come to this place willingly, seeking the restoration of their lost memories?
The sentinels advanced towards a circular chamber within the sanctuary, where numerous torches were meticulously positioned along the walls. At the heart of this room, two elevated platforms stood side by side, embellished with intricate patterns and symbols. The room clearly held great significance, yet its purpose remained a tantalizing enigma.
Around the platforms, a group of individuals stood, all cloaked in robes with their faces obscured by hoods. They shared similar attire, except for one figure who stood out, donning a crimson robe that set them apart from the rest. As soon as he witnessed the sentinels’ entrance into the area, this distinctive figure rose and addressed them, his voice carrying a tone of impatience. “You have finally arrived, and it took an eternity just to bring one person. Your performance in your sole task seems to be deteriorating.” The sentinels merely bowed in response, offering apologies, and refraining from any retort.
“Well, it matters little now. The body is here, and that is what’s important,” the crimson-robed figure remarked as he approached the drugged man. He gently caressed the man’s face with his hand, continuing, “And a young one at that. Despite being a century old, his body has not aged beyond his mid-twenties. The memory-suppressing poison seems to have done its job well; he now appears to be an old and senile man.”
The man’s face grew even paler upon hearing this, and he desperately attempted to protest, but only incoherent mumblings emerged from his trembling lips. “Aa… aaah… aah…”
The traveler was stunned as he absorbed this revelation. Everything he had encountered—the books in the libraries, the rumors, and even the memory loss affliction—had all been a carefully constructed facade. They had made it appear as though it was the price one paid to live in the city, but in reality, it had been intentionally inflicted upon the people by those in power.
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The crimson-robed figure interrupted the traveler’s chain of thoughts with another statement. “With this brain and body, I won’t go mad for a few more years. We better start the ritual soon. Get ready, brothers! And cleanse him first of the poison,” he commanded. The other figures swiftly went into action, diligently cleansing the old man’s body and having him drink an ethereal-looking potion. Finally, they positioned the old man on one of the platforms, while the crimson-robed figure reclined on the other.
The other five figures formed a circular formation around them, with one positioned just behind their heads. In unison, they each produced what appeared to be a wand. The traveler was stunned as he beheld these wands, rare artifacts created by children who dreamed of becoming sorcerers and wizards. They were not only scarce but also highly coveted; whenever one surfaced, it could incite bloodshed or even trigger wars. That’s how significant these wands were—they granted their possessor a measure of control over this world and this plane of existence. Yet, there were five wands now, all in front of him. If this knowledge were to become public, it would undoubtedly spark an unprecedented war and potentially bring the city to its knees.
In a ritualistic manner, all the figures commenced chanting in an ancient and unfamiliar language. Arcane symbols illuminated the surface of the platform, casting an otherworldly light that flickered across the man’s face. As the chanting persisted, the traveler’s growing unease transformed into a gnawing sense that something was profoundly amiss. This was no ordinary ritual meant to recover lost memories—it felt dark and foreboding. Still, he found himself paralyzed by uncertainty. He was alone in this situation, and while he felt sympathy for the man, he believed it would be wiser to grasp the full scope of the events unfolding before deciding on a course of action.
The ritual continued, seeming as though they were endeavoring to extract something from both the man and the traveler. As the chanting reached its crescendo, tendrils of light emerged from their heads. When these ethereal strands materialized, the figure positioned behind them wielded their wands to manipulate and weave them through the air, guiding each strand to the other’s head.
As the last tendrils of light were exchanged, the ritual concluded, and a few moments later, the man awakened, appearing completely normal. “No matter how many times we go through this, it always feels strange to wake up in another body, and there’s always this headache at the beginning,” he remarked while placing a hand on his forehead, as if massaging away the lingering discomfort. He proceeded to don a cloak, which was handed to him by the other members of his group. Now, he shared the same color and outfit as everyone else.
However, the crimson-cloaked person did not move. In fact, he started twitching with foam coming out of his mouth. He attempted to get up but ended up falling to the ground, causing everyone to back away. “Giii..ve me ba…ack mmy BO..DYY!” " he managed to speak, though his words were sluggish and barely coherent. His voice seethed with anger, which became more apparent as he started screaming. As he stood up, his crimson eyes glared like they were from the depths of hell.