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Chapter 21 - Respite

Kyrios wasn't sure how long he had curled up like a pitiful blob. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. Time slipped his mind like sand through fingers. The empty chasm filled with memories of his former life. A cure for his weak, paralyzed body came at the cost of freedom.

He didn't mind the cold as much, nor was his conscience aware enough to care. Only that endless despairing void burrowed into the pit of his stomach, forcing him to forget. Ashes of snow and flames clung to his fingertips like dusted wool. It weighed upon him like a brick wall. Everything hurt, and each breath of the caustic wind scratched at his lungs, filling him with frigid air until even those sensations faded away in the fog of loss and grief and the torrent of self-loathing.

Anyway, he had to wake up, or a fouler, stinkier thing would eventually make its way over to him.

His eyes fluttered, shifting drowsily upon a peculiar object glinting with an eerie light. It caught the dim ambiance reflecting from a jagged facade. Even his slumber-addled brain couldn't suppress his innate curiosity as he picked himself off the ground. His focus shifted, coming into perfect clarity, and a steady glow surrounded his silhouette from an oddity that had come about before. Approaching the light, his surroundings began transforming into their true likeness: Lavender and silver glitter engulfed everything. There weren't many specks flying about at the start, but their numbers gradually increased as he took stock of his surroundings.

"This place is...?" he murmured, peering down to find an ever-expanding chasm. Within its core lay a dazzling sky—clouds, stars, and nebulae melting together into an indescribable surreal art piece. The winds blew faster as a cold gust sent their dance even higher into the air. From where he stood, a mere whiff felt intoxicating, and soon, the air seemed aflame. And as he squinted, a familiar sight came from the shimmering below. Stirring on the edge and barely visible to the eye, the grasp of the Caretaker's mossy strands intertwined with his fingers.

"Come down," it spoke telepathically, an expression that was only barely discernible. "Trust me."

"...What," Kyrios stuttered, confused as he blinked twice or more.

His head spun from the swirling vortex below and its neverending descent. "Let's see what she has to offer," he replied stoically. And without a second thought, he jumped in with little hesitation, gripping the moss tightly. His surroundings grew murkier and darker, his grip became loose, and his heartbeat heightened. A darkness closed around him in every direction. The rushing air chilled him to the marrow as a faint sensation of being pushed upward tickled against his senses. At first, the sensation grew in strength before leaving altogether, and instead of plummeting faster, he began floating as though suspended in a transparent bubble.

An eerie, blue light engulfed him as tiny mushrooms sprouted before him in a matter of seconds, blinking in rhythm with their soft glow. The dark gloom no longer terrified him like before, and soon, other plants made their existence known. Petals peeled away from the walls and danced overhead, resembling a glittering waterfall of vibrant colors, and the murkiness soon took the form of luscious forests. Waterfalls cascaded between crevices of the walls, and beneath their drops rested a flower bed.

Kyrios followed the moss until he landed on the luscious greenery. Coming to his feet, he steadily surveyed his surroundings for anything unusual. Apart from the lush environment and the surreal mist above, nothing else stuck out at him besides several abnormal flowers bunched up together, each unique with a mystical pattern he could barely make out from his proximity. The scent of sweet perfume reached his nose, carrying the smell of flowers from all throughout nature, like a floral sanctuary.

"I was expecting more eldritch monstrosities than flowers. Maybe this place won't kill me immediately," Kyrios snarkily remarked. He resumed investigating the area while still keeping his guard up. "Eh... A place of respite, perhaps."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

He glanced toward the neverending horizon beyond the surface. Not a soul lurked except his own shadow. Occasionally, he paced a short distance as if taking a stroll around a neighborhood, leisurely gazing in all directions at the lush greenery that stretched for miles. Grass coated nearly every flat surface, although none was beneath him; he stood at a spot with many flowers scattered around on a patch of hardened dirt. Each blossom seemed more complex than the previous, every one radiating its unique glow from its insides. At that moment, there was something almost divine about the garden. Its essence charmed him with its sheer variety.

"Where the hell am I?"

***

The candle's flame flickered, casting a soft glow over the dim, dingy interior. Only a handful of people occupied the tavern, each speaking in hushed tones. Though the majority were too focused on their drinks, a group of mages lay scattered about. Drunk or not, they all lay on the table, drained of their spirit.

An old, scarred man slumped forward from the counter, his arms crossed in frustration. Though tired from the day's work, he seemed lost in thought, staring wistfully. "It's been five weeks now, and there has been no progress whatsoever..." he muttered grimly. "Do these people honestly think we want to sit here and watch our homes burn? Is that what they're thinking?" His arms clenched tighter against one another, a snarl flashing across his face as the wrinkles deepened. "There have already been over ten sightings of Riftborn, only accounting here, in Restoura. And only now we're receiving aid!"

At this, he slammed his fist against the counter before sitting up straight with an exhausted sigh. "Gosh, man! I don't blame Zeke or his group; they're good people trying to help. But," he hesitated briefly, glancing back toward a black-robed woman in the far-right corner. She was conversing with other fellow mages. "There is barely any point in scouting. Not a single unit has returned with meaningful knowledge. Right now, we need more manpower to defend the civilian. Where do our leadership's priorities lie, Yelenal? What's the king thinking?!"

The bartender, Yelenal, shook her head. "You need to stop thinking like this. Everyone is trying their best to help as many people as they can," she answered coolly, holding her hands on top of her chest. "They're thinking about the future. Any information they bring back could be critical to combat the Riftborn. Put your trust in the researchers. A blind war is a lost war."

"There is no future without the present! No time for any of these meaningless investigations and whatnot," he scoffed as a sharp pain shot across his mind, and he shut his eyes tightly while gritting his teeth in agony, clutching his head. "Not after losing so many of my comrades, not after everything we fought for, and not after putting our trust in the central council's corrupt nobles. The least those cowards could do is make some effort to provide some means for our survival. I hope some beast kills them slowly."

"Mind your words, Mikael," warned Yelenal sternly.

He swiveled around on the seat, shaking his head. "How can I when our own king isn't doing a single damn thing?! What if the scouts don't return? If there is even another moderate outbreak, we'll be doomed. Our goal is to survive; not to conquer."

She tilted her chin upward, eyes squinting at his unshaven face. "...Another outbreak. Now, who's being unreasonable? Stop dwelling on your doubts and move forward."

A grim chuckle escaped Mikael's lips. "Move forward where? To our deaths?" He stepped closer to the edge and then lowered his tone. "Why haven't we joined the coalition of the neighboring nations? We've already lost three towns this week because of their hesitation! And we just sit here waiting to be annihilated next!"

She sighed. "Why don't you go outside and rant? Even as a bartender, I can't hear this."

Mikael shook his head and laughed mirthlessly. "Fine, fine. Whatever you say."

Clicking her tongue disapprovingly, she resumed preparing the drinks without paying further attention to the gruff old wizard.

Meanwhile, he stared at his hands blankly with a hollow gaze. "Just give me enough power to protect my family," he muttered, sighing with resignation before heading out. "Tsk, how childish."

He slammed the door shut, and a gust of icy air rushed in, stirring the patrons awake. With a low, frustrated grunt, he closed the entrance, attempting to keep the freezing air outside before looking up and noticing a cloaked figure entering through the opposite entry. Though still obscured within the shroud, a feminine face loomed beneath the dingy garment. Her head tilted downward toward the ground, yet her gaze seemed fixed on an unspecified destination ahead.

Despite his suspicions, no further warning bells rang, and Mikael carried on. But, as the two were set to collide, he made one last attempt. "Hello?" he called. His eyes never once left the strange visitor.

In a split second, their gaze met. From underneath her hood, a piercing ruby eye emerged. Not human, but distinctly something else.

"Red..." was all Mikael uttered before collapsing on the ground, sprawled lifeless with his arms dangling out like broken branches and his lips slack. Blood oozed through his leather attire, soaking his body in his own gore.

"One dead," came an inhuman, croaky voice from her pale, youthful lips.