Nothingness. No, that was wrong. She knew it on an instinctual level because nothingness is nothing. This place was everything, all at once. No, wrong again. He was experiencing both at once. Each state switched place with the other at an unimaginable speed as it stood separated and unmovable. However, she understood herself as a she. But then, how could she be a he at the same time? This place was far too confusing for her to make any sense of it. She could only describe it as insanity taking form, and it made her wonder where this was and why she was here.
Yes, that was good. She had to keep herself as a single thing, less this place consumed him. It was just as the voices warned her. Release control and become lost. But were those voices always here? The answer made her doubt herself with its complexity. He had to keep things simple. The others assured her of that. Right now, she had to find out where she was heading because this place had been moving this entire time. Actually, it had been moving since the beginning of time; it took far too long to take notice of it. She wanted to ask the voices, but he did not know how to speak.
Painfully slow, her surroundings took impossible shapes, and her fractured self solidified into a singular entity. Obscured figures moved in all directions just a step away from her, yet infinitely far away she could never reach them, even if she were to run until the end of time. Before she knew it, she was like them, a shadow of something else, standing on a flat plain of black sand. Mountains formed in the distance, just to crumble a moment later. Great chasms split the surface and disappeared before they formed. Mighty storms flickered into existence infinitely far away, only to roll over her without shifting a single grain of sand. She was afraid to look away from this insanity, but the empty sky promised something even worse. No matter where she turned, a black sun covered the horizon. It was her goal - everyone’s goal. It was ravenous, and only she could satisfy its hunger. Carefully, she willed herself to take a step in its direction. Her feet sunk into the soft sands, preventing her from following the others. Yet, she was not afraid. Not that such a thing mattered in this place. It was normal that she couldn’t move; the others told her as much in their silent voices. If she stopped, considered their words, each had something that held them back. Some were quick to dispose of it, while others struggled for eternity with their first step.
However, she noticed that there were few who stopped and dug deep into the black sand. Their tortured screams made her look away, but she had to know why they were doing this. In this insane place, they stood out. They were to be ignored, shunned and pitied. With some effort, she formed a hand with which to touch the ground beneath her. It was far too hard for her to attempt to dig through it, but she had to try.
“Yes, that is right,” a single voice told her louder than the others. “You do not belong in this place. Dig, and I can free you.” It informed her with unquestionable certainty.
She felt the revulsion from the others as they passed around her. They wondered why she would ignore Its call in favour of the voice. And not any voice, but the one which belonged to that pretender. Only Mohr’Tar had the right to look over them as they continued their journey once He took form. After all, the Black Sun was the one who had claimed them as sustenance for its birth. It was what the Mother promised them. They could feel the god-to-be gestate in her womb. She could feel it. The time of the first god was drawing near, and many others would follow after it. The name made her stop. There was significance to it. Of the first, she knew nothing except that it would be an eternity before it came into existence. But the second one, she knew it, and it made her angry. This new emotion consumed her without warning.
“Do not worry,” a figure of blinding flame approached her and spoke in a soft, bitter voice. “It cannot claim you. Neither of them can.”
Those around her scattered or shattered or did both. The glow softened, and she understood that this was life. She was sure of it; this was a living creature. Her memories made her come to this conclusion. No, those weren’t memories; it was something she just knew. Now, she had only one course of action - to wait. But wait for what? Why was this thing here, and why was it interested in her? The questions were the answers she was seeking. They were the reason she had to wait.
“Because you gave yourself freely to me.” The burning figure answered the unspoken question and turned to look at the Black Sun. “One day, it will consume the Veil, just as it has consumed the Other Side.” The living thing sounded sad.
“Only the Red Moon can oppose it, but not forever. Not whilst it remains empty.” Silence engulfed them, and she wondered if this was another trick of this place. Another ploy to break her and consume her. Once more, the flame burned brightly and reached for her. “Now, enough of this. You are coming with me.”
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Anna opened her eyes and choked on the breath she tried to take. Her memory of the Afterlife froze her heart, preventing it from making a single beat. She had to run away. Escape as far away as possible. A small part of her understood the futility of such desire, but the fear inside her was overwhelming. If only her limbs would obey her; however, her arms and legs remained rooted to the aged planks of the floor. Feverishly, she turned her head from one direction to the other, taking in her surroundings, searching for someone to help her. Alas, there was no one who could come to her aid. The room of the Inn to Nowhere had become a charnel house. Torn limbs and ruined bodies covered the floor and walls, and dark blood had gathered in large puddles. Not even a battlefield had witnessed such carnage. The Scribe’s gaze stopped on the lone figure of the elf. Sága Vulpa sat quietly on the same dais where she had begun the tale of the girl Ruby.
The Story Teller had her golden eyes fixed on the fire pit, her face painted with displeasure. No, Anna hurriedly corrected herself. The elf was staring at something else, something on the other side of the flames. Unsteadily, the girl rose to her feet, a question forming on her lips. It was at this point she realised that she had been stabbed. Quickly, the young Scribe lowered her head and saw the knife sticking from her gut, yet she felt no pain. In fact, she felt nothing, not even the persistent cold of the Wastes. Gingerly, her fingers brushed against the weapon’s blade. She expected a burning jolt, similar to the one she felt when she cut the palm of her hand as a child, the moment she placed a little pressure on the bloody item. Finding a grain of courage at the lack of sensation, Anna gently wrapped her finger around the blade and pulled ever so slightly. A moment later, she let go of the battered piece of iron as she felt it kiss her spine.
“Well, aren’t you eager,” the elf spoke without looking at her. “Honestly, I thought your companion would have been the first to awake.”
This made Anna search the room for Victor. He was right next to her, leaning against the wall. It didn’t take a genius to figure that the Sága had moved them there. But for what purpose, Anna couldn’t tell. The Crest Guard’s brownish-blonde hair was matted with dried blood; his chin was buried in his chest. But it was his face that gave her pause. The skin was grey, his hazel eyes still and glazed, appearing almost as glass the way the flames inside the hearth reflected in them. His lifeless expression conjured feelings in the Scribe’s heart that she preferred to remain unknown. There could be no doubt that the man was dead.
“Please, join me.” Anna returned her attention to the elf who was beckoning her with a finger. “I am sure you will enjoy this.”
With a sombre step, the Scribe crossed the few meters separating her from Vulpa. Now that she looked more carefully, she could see that the Ice Wolves were gone. They had taken their original place, covering the Sága’s back and lap. It was hard to accept that the animal pelts could morph into deadly beasts. The Scribe would brand anyone who told her this as mad if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. Then again, the Sága had forced reality to shape to her will while she told Ruby’s story. So, it was very possible that the pair of pelts weren’t anything more sinister than a pair of actual wolf pelts. Anna’s eyes shifted away from the hides, refusing to dwell any longer on questions that could occupy an entire class at the Covenant of Knowledge. She fixed her attention on the elf’s face, examining it closely. There was displeasure written on the delicate features for sure; however, beneath them, the girl could see disappointment. The earing, which had been taken as payment for the story, dangled from the elf’s ear. The delicate jewel both suited her and appeared out of place.
“Do you like it?” Vulpa asked without looking, a smile forming on her lips. “It is so hard to find something this pretty in the North.”
“You…” Anna started to speak but was interrupted by a chuckle from the woman.
“I am not who you thought I was. Right. But that’s the thing, my lovely, I never introduced myself.” For the first time, the elf looked at her, the smile on her face growing warm with a hint of child-like sincerity. “Come to think of it, you haven’t introduced yourself either.”
It was made as a polite comment, but Anna could see that she was to give her name first.
“Anna,” her voice was soft and shaking as if it wasn’t hers. She took a deep breath and choked again, the air trapped inside her chest refusing to leave.
“Don’t worry. It will take some time until you learn to use your lungs again. Not that you need to,” Vulpa giggled. “But you’d have to if you want to blend among the living.” The Sága looked at the knife jutting from Anna’s stomach, and with a gesture, she motioned for her to try again.
“Junior Scribe Anna Ursekar of the Covenant of Knowledge in the City of Henet.” The effort it took to utter a single sentence drained her. She wanted to ask what the elf was talking about. Instead, she felt compelled to answer the question to the best of her capabilities.
“That’s a very long name, isn’t that right, Öthar?” Vulpa turned her head towards the fire once again, the warm smile replaced by a bloodthirsty one.
With anger she didn’t know she could feel, the girl stepped closer. Next to the flame was the broken form of the creature that had ushered all this senseless carnage. It was pinned to the floor by Victor’s sword, its arms and legs reduced to ruined scraps of bone decorated by rotten meat, the same way torn cloth decorated the rafters of an abandoned building. Nearly a third of the thing’s skull was caved in, exposing the decayed brain within. However, it still snapped its crooked teeth in the direction of the Scribe. Unnatural hunger and want burning in its rotting eyes as they tracked her.
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“You might not believe it when you look at him, but Öthar here was quite the charming fellow.” The elf took a seep from the tankard of ale. “Come on now, son of Hasse, introduce me. I know your mama taught you how to be a proper man.”
“Abomination…” the creature rasped, the word coming out with as much bile as it could put into it. “I will… never… serve you…”
“You place too much value on your worth,” Vulpa leaned forward and scooped a piece of burned meat from the base of the fire, which the young Scribe chose to believe was from the offering provided by the innkeeper. Her teeth bit into the large chunk, allowing the hot juices to drip down her chin. “I did not cross the Wastes so that I could lure you away. I did it because I cannot stand any of you.”
“There is… still… a chance to… obtain salvation… girl of the… South…” The fiend spoke in choked gasps as it directed its empty gaze at Anna, and she could feel its twisted desire. “Accept… the hand extended to… you… by M’Tar…”
“Enough!” With a quick movement, the elf pulled the knife from the Scribe’s gut and threw it at Öthar’s throat. Anything else the thing had to say was reduced to a deathly gurgle. “I warned you again and again to never speak her name in my presence.”
With determined movements, the elf stood from the dais and walked above the dead thing. Slowly, the woman dropped to one knee, planted in the wretch’s chest, and leaned close to him. Despite the low voice she used, Anna could hear the cold words the Sága whispered. A terrible promise imbued into each syllable.
“You can inform that master of yours that one day I will be coming for her, and she would wish that I truly broke her all those years ago.”
The Scribe watched in horror as Vulpa’s right wrist reshaped into a demonic thing covered by sharp bone scales, and taloned claws replaced her slender fingers. In one swift motion, the elf tore Öthar’s head from his shoulders and flung it in the fire. Following that, the Sága turned her hand around and began forming a fist. The way her fingers moved told Anna the woman was struggling with something. Afraid to ask, she just observed. A moment later, her question was answered as a bright green mist emerged from the fiend’s corpse. It formed into a small ball, no larger than a human’s heart, and hovered above Vulpa’s closed fist. There was disgust written on her face as she threw the thing through the broken window on the far wall.
“If he thinks I would grant him the mercy of the grave, he is mistaken. Someone like him deserves nothing but eternal torment. A living death cursed to repeat itself until the end of time.” The Sága stood up and made a show of dusting herself. The smile didn’t return to her face when she turned to face Anna. “I suppose you know who I am by now, but a proper greeting is the polite thing to do.”
“My name is Ruby,” the elf gently lowered her head and stretched her right arm forward, trying to imitate the Scribe’s movements from a moment ago. “I do not come from a place worth mentioning, but the people of the Wastes and the Northern Reaches have given me many names. The Abomination, The Queen of the Dead, Daemon of the Wastes, Scourge of Kathania and Sága Vulpa, to name a few.”
It surprised Anna to hear this blatant admission. No, rather, she was perplexed. Despite all she had witnessed, the Scribe had figured as much and hoped there was a mistake in her logical conclusion. But now, there was no way of denying it, which left only a single question searching for an answer in her empty mind. She asked with a trembling voice, forcing a single word out even though something warned her she shouldn’t.
“Why?”
“Because everyone assumes that Ruby is a human.” The elf smiled at her and chuckled.
“No. Why? Why me?” Anna wanted to scream but realised that her emotions were slowly fading away, leaving her with nothing but numbness. The girl could feel the thing urging her to remain silent grow distant as it dissipated at the deepest recesses of her mind.
“This is unusual. No one has ever asked me this. What do you mean?” Vulpa, no Ruby, the Scribe corrected herself, asked with an expression that showed she was genuinely confused by her question.
“Why did you save me? Why not save them as well? They were innocent.” The girl pointed to the mangled corpses of the innkeeper and the serving girls.
“Ah.” The elf returned to the improvised dais and sat down, but not before fetching the piece of meat she had eaten from a moment ago. “Because they are not important.”
“That’s monstrous!” Anna snapped. “Life is important!”
“I’ll stop you right there before you say something that could make me reconsider my decision.” Ruby took another bite from the cooked flesh in her hand before continuing. “You are of use to me. As is your friend over there. The others - not.”
“That’s not fair. You have the power to-”
“My sweet girl, of course it is not,” Ruby’s laugh was as cold as the wind whistling outside. “Nature is not fair. Life is not fair.”
The woman leaned from her seat. “Was it fair of those people to destroy everything I had and cast me away? No. But they did because they believed it was in their best interest to do so. And they were right even if they were blinded by fear. Was what I did to them fair? No. It was petty revenge born out of childish anger. But to do otherwise would have been unfair to me. Tell me, then, how do you determine what is right and what is wrong? Fair…”
The Story Teller clicked her tongue, the anger she felt plain to see on her face. And yet, Anna couldn’t help but think there was more to it. A moment later, the slender elf stood up and walked to the ruined body of one of the serving girls. She stretched out her hand, and before the Scribe could blink, the same green mist gathered at the tip of her fingers.
“This is what you all are. Be it elf or human. Or other.” Ruby pushed the thing back into the corpse. “When you know how to do it, it is easy to bring life back to the dead.” With a groan, the girl opened her eyes, her tongue throttling madly in the opening where her jaw used to be.
Ruby took a step to the side as the servant girl lunged at her. There was no rational thought at all in the poor thing’s actions. Nor was there an irrational one, Anna concluded as she watched with morbid curiosity as the reanimated corpse twisted itself and charged at the Sága once more. The sound of bones snapping was irrelevant compared to the sight of the wretched girl’s splintered bones escaping the confines of the greying flesh of her arms and legs. Almost gently, Vulpa caught the rabid creature and pinned it to the floor with one arm, the elf’s eyes fixed on Scribe, tempting her to protest.
“But that would be a waste. Unless there is purpose, there is no point in using something so valuable.” Anna watched in horror as the elf removed the ball of light, and the girl’s movement ceased. It was neither fear nor terror the Scribe felt. It was something else, something primal. Once Ruby’s fingers touched it, the ball changed its colour to bright orange and dissolved into mist.
“If your mages knew how much power a soul could give, you’d all be herded like cattle to the slaughter.” The elf stretched her arms above her head and released a slight moan of pleasure. “I’m tired of the North. It was a good feeding ground for a while. But not anymore. There are far too few people around. And fewer still who could satisfy my hunger.”
Anna scurried to the fire and took a burning stick, intending to use it against this new monster. What Ruby had said and done was revolting and went against everything the girl believed. She understood her actions were close to pointless, but she couldn’t just stand idle. Visions of her home reduced to ruins as this cruel beast feeds on those she calls friends and family flooded her mind. It wasn’t enough to bridge the gap in strength between them, but it was enough to give Anna enough courage to, at the very least, try something to stop her.
“I think you should have understood by now,” Ruby looked at her with obvious annoyance. “I gave your life back. I gave you freedom because it will be of use. I can also take it away.”
The elf snapped her fingers, and the Scribe felt her body stiffen. No matter how much she wanted to struggle, her legs and arms would not move. There was a heavy step behind her, and Anna recognised Victor’s gloved hand as he pulled the improvised weapon from her grip. Silently, the Crest Guard walked to Ruby’s side and stood there immobile as a statue. His grey face and lifeless eyes stared at the Scribe. There was no emotion in them, unlike the gluttonous hunger visible in the elf’s bright golden orbs.
“What… did… you… do?” Anna managed to say through no small effort on her part, trying to understand what was happening.
“This is how most end up. You, on the other hand, have retained a lot of yourself.” The elf came closer and touched the Scribe’s cheek. “It’s not as special as you might think. But it is nice to see it happen.”
“Why us?” The girl didn’t try to hide the fear in her voice.
“Because your friend is a Crest Guard. This is apparently an important position in the lands on this side of the Wastes. And you know the way of this foreign land. It is as simple as that.”
Finally, Anna understood. Ruby had no understanding of the world. Like a wild animal, she saw it as a big hunting field. All of this was her attempt to find a path leading to a new feeding ground. Just as she had said not a but a few minutes ago, there was no deception in her words, as the Scribe had thought. But why? The elf clearly had enough power to oppose the Mage Council of Luth. Yet, the Story Teller appeared to have no interest in them. Actually, she had dismissed them as something trivial. The Scribe was missing something obvious. There had to be a connection between Ruby, M’Tar and the Black Sun she had seen. There had to be a reason why Vulpa chose to cross the wastes when she could have ravaged the unknown lands on the other side.
“M’Tar is Old Eugene!” Anna gasped. “He came from this side of the Wastes!”
The elf laughed heartily. “No. Not at all,” Ruby wiped the tears that had formed in her eyes. “Eugene was a charming old fool who made poor choices. M’Tar fooled him to marry her. She lured him into the village because she needed a sturdy, honest soul such as his to create me. After that, she discarded him without a second thought. A shame, really… He was kind to me even after becoming an empty husk.” The elf waved her hand and forced the Scribe to sit on the blood-covered floor.
“M’Tar was a shaman of reasonable power and unhealthy obsession with said power. And as every mortal, she feared death. I do not know how or when she crossed into the Veil, but she did. After that, the bitch wanted to become a god and reside in the shadow of the Red Moon so that the Black Sun would never be able to claim her. That’s why she used Eugene to try to stop me when I refused to be sacrificed for her ambition.”
A new emotion passed over the elf’s face. But before the girl could guess what it was, Ruby continued. “After I broke her body, she ran away and hid amongst your Mages… But this time, I’ll not make the same mistake. I will obliterate her and feed her to the Black Sun myself.”
“Then why was there any need for all this!” Anna screamed. “If you’d told us the truth-”
“Then you would not have learned to fear me, and I would not have been able to control you.” Ruby spread out the furs next to the fire and pointed at Victor, indicating that the conversation was over. “Guard the inn. It’s been a long day, and I need to rest. Oh, and you, Scribe girl,” the elf threw Anna’s journal at her, “you can finish recording my tale since you liked it so much while you wait over there.”