My sleep that night was restless, plagued by nightmares that had me waking up in another dungeon with no equipment or support. Instead of the main difficulty being in the core chamber, I had to fight tooth and nail to make my way through every hallway, tunnel, or chamber. Just as the end was in sight, I had reached the core, only to find myself against insurmountable odds. For every revenant I killed, ten more spawned from the crystal until I was running on fumes. Slowly, they managed to surround and incapacitate me, but rather than outright killing me, I was being dragged to the core. In a desperate bid to save myself, I put all my remaining effort into recreating my fire shroud, all while violently kicking and screaming.
Before I could find out my fate, I was torn from my sleep by a sudden dowsing of gallons of water. As I was coming to, I found that I was still screaming, and the room was filled with thick smoke. I sprung to my feet in an attempt to escape the building, but tripped on smoldering debris and fell flat on my face, breaking my nose. I felt a hand placed on my shoulder and reflexively scrambled away, releasing another scream. After turning around, I saw a silhouette moving toward me through the smoke, and pressed my back against the wall. As the figure approached, I was able to make out more details, realizing it was Lira.
“The door is this way, Zach,” she shouted while extending her hand. She helped me to my feet and we ran outside the building into fresh air. Now out of the smoke, my adrenaline began to fade and I was able to start taking in the details of my surroundings. Most of the new batch of recruits had evacuated their barracks, coming to see what the commotion was. While those from other buildings were focused on the smoke billowing out of the door, the rest of the eyes were on me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dim green glow, and looked over to find a couple of soot-covered people being treated for burns.
“What happened,” I hesitantly asked Lira, afraid that I already knew the answer.
“You just started screaming out of nowhere, writhing in the bed. When Cyrol tried to shake you awake, you just burst into flames,” she said. “Thankfully Remir was able to use a water spell to put everything out, but he nearly completely drained himself in the process. I’ve never seen such a reaction to visions before, what did you see?”
“I hope you don’t mean visions as in premonitions,” I stated. Lira nodded in confirmation, causing my stomach to knot up. “That had better not be what just happened, otherwise I’m not making it back to Earth…” That was an idea I wasn’t ready to face, so I tried not to think about it, which was made easier by the approach of several instructors.
I had to do a double take as I glanced at the group. By and large, all appeared to be normal, except for the one leading the pack. His face was awash with the same patterns and symbols covering my body, only his were pure white. It seemed the recognition was mutual, as his eyes locked straight onto me while the rest moved to help tend to the burn victims and deal with the mess of a barracks.
“You, come with me,” he commanded, leaving no room for protest. I did as I was told and followed close.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do this, I swear,” I pleaded. The instructor turned to me with a placid expression and attempted to ease my mind.
“I’m aware, otherwise you’d already be dead. One of your fellow recruits already explained what happened as they were retrieving us,” he explained. “Your psychological assessment has merely been pushed forward.” Aside from essentially being told I could be executed at the drop of a hat, that was actually relieving to hear. Soon enough we were in what seemed to be some type of administrative building, and I was led into a small office.
The instructor pulled out one of the chairs at the desk in the middle of the room, motioning for me to sit down as he took a seat on the other side. He produced a small cloth-wrapped item from a drawer, and placed it gently on the desktop. “Now, my fellow instructors and I are already aware of the circumstances that brought you here. However, I need to know if you’ve experienced a memory dive before.”
“Not that I’m aware of,” I said, eyeing the small object. “And I won’t allow that to change. Kill me if you must, but you’re not getting anywhere near me with that thing.”
“Mr. Petel, you do not have a choice in the matter. Don’t worry about this,” he said, as he placed his hands on the mystery item. “This is just a memory shard I will be using to record the dive.” At that, I stood from my chair and stepped back from the desk.
“No, absolutely not, that’s even worse,” I said as a pit formed in my stomach. “Everything that’s in my head stays there.” The instructor simply sighed, then his eyes turned a stark white.
“Sit,” he ordered. As the word left his mouth, a warm sensation washed over my skin, and my legs went into action on their own. Once I was seated again, his eyes returned to normal. “Do not make me do that again. I take no pleasure in robbing others of their free will.” All I managed as a response was a timid nod, entirely filled with dread, and waited for him to continue.
“I have been doing these assessments for years, there’s nothing you will show me that I haven’t already witnessed countless times. The rest of the recruits will be going through the same process tomorrow,” he stated. “We will start with your most positive memories so that you can calm down, then move on to harder moments. Before that can happen, though, I need you to stop using Estra’s favor. I won’t be able to concentrate properly if you don’t, and that can lead to unintended damage.”
“What are you talking about,” I asked in confusion. “I’m not doing anything right now.”
“You very much are. All who receive attunement can see magical energy, meaning I can see that your channels are open now,” he replied. “As weak as it may be, I can feel the uncertainty spilling from you.”
“I don’t know how to stop,” I said. “I hate it, but what if you use your magic again to make me stop? Would that work? Preferably forever, if you can. I don’t see myself ever needing that.” The instructor shook his head, and I hung mine in return.
“I cannot permanently disable your connection, it would kill me outright. However, I can do so for the time being, and you will have to figure out the rest for yourself,” he explained. It made sense, as the more I thought about it, that would take an insane amount of energy to permanently sever a connection to a god. More than likely, that would only be doable by other gods, if not exclusively Deimos. I nodded and grit my teeth, preparing to feel another surge of dread. He issued the command, and I felt another wave of warmth as the colors in the room shifted to warmer tones. With my accidental spell cut off, I could see him release tension from his posture.
“Alright. As I said before, we will start off slowly with positive experiences to ease into the process,” he explained as he unwrapped the item. It was a crystal much like the teleport shards I’d seen, apart from its size. Upon touching the crystal, it began to glow white. “Please start by thinking about a time when you felt accomplished, and then take my other hand.” Reluctantly, I did as told. As he took my hand, his eyes began to glow white again, and everything faded into darkness.
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- - - - -
The feeling of being in my own memories was bizarre, almost like an out of body experience. I was feeling extreme anxiety, but it was empty, as if the passage of time robbed it of all significance. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was witnessing the sights of Earth. More specifically, we were in the second safehouse my father and I had been placed in after the first was compromised. I was pacing my bedroom, adrenaline coursing through my veins in anticipation for what was to come.
“This memory is quite old, considering your age,” said the disembodied voice of the instructor. I half expected my younger self to react to the statement, but no such thing happened. Instead, I continued pacing the room, slowly creeping closer to a decision.
“Yeah, it’s from roughly fourteen years ago, in my third childhood home,” I replied. I got a slight impression of curiosity over our temporary bond, but elected not to elaborate further, knowing what was to come. Depending on just how many memories he planned on sifting through, he would get his answers anyway. At that moment, the me of the past ceased his pacing, and the instructor’s focus shifted back to observing. With a shaky breath, I opened the top drawer of my wardrobe and rummaged around until I found the hunting knife I had stashed under my clothes.
I opened my bedroom door, taking care to avoid making any excess noise. The rest of the house was dark, apart from the dim glow coming from the TV in the living room. I crept down the hallway into the kitchen, stopping for a moment to stare at the couch through the doorway, contemplating my chances of success. I could feel the instructor’s apprehension, wondering what this memory had to do with feeling accomplished. After steeling my resolve, I continued slowly into the living room.
“I’ll warn you now. Whatever you expect to find in my memories, you’re going to be wrong every time. Be prepared,” I said as I watched my father come into view. I deftly avoided kicking any of the empty bottles and cans strewn across the floor as I stepped even closer to the couch. Another moment passed in eternity as I hesitated for the last time, then raised the knife. At the last moment, my father’s eyes slowly started to crack open. His face was a mixture of shock and horror as he saw the knife raised above his head.
I panicked for a moment, second guessing myself, but committed to my actions and plunged the blade down with all the force I could muster. He was just barely able to bring his arm up to block, causing me to miss his throat. I pulled the knife back out quickly, spraying blood across my face, and aimed for his ribs, but he managed to shove me to the ground before I could make contact.
“You ungrateful bastard, I’ll kill you for this,” he screamed as he tried to get up. However, all of his drinking allowed me to get up faster and I managed to thrust the knife between his ribs. I let out a primal scream as I kept stabbing. My father did everything he could to fight back, punching, kicking, and screaming, but it was to no avail. My adrenaline was at its peak, and I barely felt the few blows that connected, solely focused on carrying out the attack in whatever capacity I could. His movements slowed with every wound I opened, but the blood made the knife’s handle too slick, causing it to slip out of my hand. Blinded by my rage, I abandoned the blade and switched to my bare hands.
I could feel the instructor’s horror practically as if it were my own as we watched everything play out. However, the memory kept progressing all the same. I pinned my father to the couch by the throat, strangling him while repeatedly slamming my fist into his face. Each strike caved his skull in further, until nothing recognizable remained. I stood over his body, shaking and heaving for breath, but satisfied in my triumph. The feeling was short lived, though, as a hard knock at the door broke me out of my rumination.
“Mr. Petel, is everything okay in there?” I panicked, not having expected the witness protection agents to have responded so quickly to all the noise. I searched my father, looking for the pistol I knew he always had on him, as the knocking intensified. The agent called out again, but I ignored him, and managed to locate the gun. The agent tried to open the door, but it was locked tight. I checked to make sure it was loaded, and I moved into the kitchen as the knocking turned into heavy kicks.
After a few seconds, the door flew open, and I brought the gun up, ready to fire. As the agent stepped inside, he walked right into the sights and I pulled the trigger. Without a chance to react, the first shot flew true, blowing a sizable hole through the side of his skull. As his body hit the floor, I could hear the second agent trying to come in through the back door, yelling something unintelligible. Without a second thought, I ran out the front, toward their car. Luckily, they had left the keys inside, and I hopped in and started the car.
The engine roared to life, growling like a hungry tiger defending its prey. As I threw the car in drive, I saw the backup agent rounding the corner of the house through the rear view mirror, and slammed my foot on the gas pedal. Several shots slammed into the back of the car as I peeled out, one just barely grazing my neck through the back of the seat. I jerked the wheel to turn down a side street and sped off, losing the agent. I broke down into maniacal laughter, which ended up transitioning into violent sobbing as the adrenaline wore off. As I kept driving, everything slowly started to fade to black again.
- - - - -
As soon as the memory was over, the instructor doubled over and projectile vomited onto the floor. I gave him some time to recover as he sat there, breathing heavily and wearing a thousand yard stare. After a moment, he seemed to come back to his senses and stared at me warily.
“I told you, what’s in my head stays there,” I said with an arrogant confidence. “Did you think I didn’t have a good reason for that? Very few people so much as have an idea I did that, let alone know for sure, and you just forced yourself to live it. As much as I don’t want you looking through my head, I’m not sure if it’s in your best interests to continue based on that reaction.” The instructor stared at me dumbfounded for a moment, then gently shook his head.
“How can you be so cavalier about patricide,” he asked. I couldn’t help but scoff at the question’s absurdity.
“Did it look like it didn’t affect me when I did it,” I rebuffed, staring deep into his eyes. “I came to terms with what I did long ago, and moved on with my life. What you don’t see in that memory is him breaking four of my ribs a month prior, or any of the times he used me as an ashtray. You didn’t see all the trips to the hospital, nor the lengths he would go to so that my life was a living hell. That piece of shit stopped being my father the moment he got my mother killed.” I felt tears welling up in my eyes as the memory of her death tried to force its way into my head, but wiped them away before they could fall.
“Why would you not try to leave before resorting to such drastic measures,” he asked. My tears were replaced with indignant anger, baffled by the assumptions being made.
“I tried everything,” I shouted. “I went to my friends, my teachers, even the police! Things work very differently on Earth, though. Prosecutors refused to go after him because it would ruin his credibility as a witness, and he was the only person who actually knew who was directly responsible for my mother’s death. They were more worried about preserving their case than making sure I was safe, even going so far as to bring me straight back to him when I ran away!” As disconnected from my feelings as I was while watching the memory, the interrogation was still dredging up long dead feelings.
“Maybe it would be best if we took a break,” the instructor suggested. I agreed wholeheartedly, and indicated so with a single nod of my head. Without a moment’s hesitation, he stood up from the desk and rushed out of the office, leaving me to sit in silence and stew.