Seamus avoided the skeleton’s strike, his sword moving to slash at its exposed neck. Hit. Seamus’ counter-attack sent the conjured undead’s skull flying off. Its main body stumbled for a bit, as if it was trying to find its missing head. Seamus charged and struck it once more, this time causing the skeleton to collapse. Its bones scattered on the floor, seemingly defeated.
Yet they shuddered with life, green wires of magic dragging them together once more. Seamus moved in on the reconstructing bones, aiming to hit the head that had fallen off. His blade’s tip stabbed the skull, which resisted the sharp iron. It was harder than Seamus had expected. He clenched his jaw and forced his blade forward, finally piercing the bone. The pinpricks of green died out without so much of a fizzle. Soon after this, the bones fell limp, now nothing more than remains.
“Got another one!” He shouted out. Before he could take a look at his friends, Lilith came in out of nowhere, tackling a skeleton that had its sights set on Seamus. She tore it apart, throwing its limbs away as she hacked at its skull. After some loud strikes, her ax split its skull open, killing off the conjured undead.
“Are you alright?” Seamus called out to the berserker. She gave the young man a reassuring grunt, letting him know she was still uninjured.
“How many more?” James shouted out from his side. Seamus raised his sights to the dark corners of the room, seeing how more skeletons formed. However, it seemed as if with every wave, less and less of them were appearing. Their numbers were decreasing, but Seamus wasn’t sure how long he could hold out. They had been fighting the conjurations for a while now and his arms were going numb.
“We have to run,” Harald breathed out, his boot crushing another skull. “We can’t afford to waste our energy on them. It’ll leave us vulnerable to the necromancer if we keep fighting like this.” The veteran turned to James. “There’s a ladder leading further down. If we hurry and take the exit, we can get away from the conjurations.”
“They’ll kill us before we make it,” Seamus exasperated.
“Not if we time it right!” James shouted out. He took down another skeleton. “I’ll clear the way with whatever stamina I have left. That’ll give us a small window of time to escape,” he added.
“No, I’ll do it,” Harald insisted. “I have a vitality potion I can use. You, Seamus, and Lilith get down there.”
“Harald—”
“There’s no time for arguing!” Harald reached into his satchel, his hand digging through it before he pulled out a copper vial. “When you see the opening, run for it!”
Before anyone could protest, Harald had already torn the wax seal on the vial. The veteran downed the potion without hesitation. Seamus could see how his body tensed up at the concoction before he tossed the empty copper vial. Harald charged at the skeletal undead before him, his sword slashing through their bony appendages.
Seamus looked to Lilith, who was watching the veteran with complete surprise. “We have to go now!” he shouted to the berserker. Seamus grabbed at her hand, dragging her away from the fight as he headed to where the ladders were. “James!” he shouted to the stunned blond man, who was staring at Harald. The mention of his name seemed to snap him out of his stupor, as he quickly joined Seamus in his retreat.
The trio reached the ladder with relative ease, avoiding any wild swings directed at them. Lilith was the first to go down, the red-haired berserker dropping into the exit without so much as glancing at the ladder. Seamus was next, his hands and feet sliding down the ladder’s sides. James was last, the blond man’s feet and hand hurriedly stepping down the steps. Seamus saw how James took one last look at Harald, before he rushed down the exit, his hand closing the trapdoor that was attached to the opening.
Once the three were in safety, Seamus took the moment to rest. “We have to keep moving, right?” Seamus asked in a breath.
James himself rested against the wall, catching his breath as he pressed his left hand to his forehead. “We have to. Harald can take care of himself. Hopefully.”
Seamus nodded at that. “Alright. We keep moving in this chasm of death and fight our way to a necromancer? That sounds right to you?” He couldn’t help but feel bitter about the situation. They had just fought tooth and nail against amalgamations of bone. The young man was already getting sick of fighting.
“We don’t have a choice,” James muttered.
“Of course we don’t,” Seamus breathed out. He slowly picked himself up, his gaze moving to examine this new level they were on. It was bigger than the previous one, with open doorways and dark corridors. If Seamus had to guess, they were getting closer to the bottom.
“Guess we have to figure out where to go next,” Seamus muttered. He turned to Lilith, expecting to see the young woman ready to fight whatever lurked in the shadows. Instead, to his complete surprise, Lilith was wavering tiredly. She huffed heavily, her eyes half closed as she rested against the wall.
“Lilith?” Seamus asked.
The berserker perked up at Seamus’ voice, but she didn’t respond. Instead, Lilith only stumbled against the wall before she slid down to the ground. She slowly closed her eyes, her body going limp.
“Lilith!” Seamus rushed to the young woman, grabbing her arm to see if she was still alive. Her pulse was still there, thankfully, strong and alive. Yet she was passed out, her breathing heavy as she slept.
“Seamus,” a voice called out to the young man.
Seamus raised his head, looking at James in confusion. “What is it?” He asked.
“What?”
“You called my name?”
“No, I didn’t,” James said with a raised eyebrow.
Seamus blinked before realizing the world around him was…different. He tried to stand, but felt as his knees wobbled and gave in. He stumbled to the ground, landing on his knees.
“Seamus?” James asked this time, his expression turning into that of worry.
“James?” Seamus called out in confusion. He couldn’t help but feel weak, his strength nonexistent as he tried to move. “I… I…” Seamus couldn’t speak. He tried to say something, anything, but it felt as if an invisible hand held his throat. His hearing was even dampening, the only sound being the muffled shouts of James.
“Go to sleep, sweet darling. Don’t you see the moons in the sky?”
A soft voice sung sweetly, the words of the poem reaching Seamus with grace
“Sister moons, they will shine onto gentle blades of grass.”
‘No…’ Seamus tried to fight back, his vision getting blurry.
“Go to sleep, my darling. Ravens watch over you and me.”
Despite his obstructed gaze, Seamus could clearly see how even James was affected. The blond man had at first been confused, but soon he, too, was stumbling.
“No matter where, they will see. White raven, do you sleep?”
Seamus could hear the sweet voice call out to him and James, singing a lullaby he hadn’t heard for so long.
‘Stop. Please.’
Seamus’ body slowly went limp, his strength disappearing. James was already on the floor, weakly trying to raise his sword in defense. Seamus soon laid on the ground, his breathing heavy as his eyelids fell.
“Go to sleep. My little one,” the sweet voice called out to him. The young man focused on where the voice was coming from, only to see a young woman step out of the shadows, her hands weaving what looked like dark magic.
Seamus helplessly fell into his deep slumber.
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Harald rested against a wall, catching his breath as the skeletons before him reformed once more. He still had the energy to keep going, but he doubted it was going to be enough to fully outlast these conjurations. The veteran glanced at where the other three members of his group had disappeared, right where the trapdoor was closed. He could probably make it if he took out enough of the undead bastards.
‘Don’t need to fully destroy them. Just handicap them enough so I can get out of here with little of a problem.’
Harald raised his sword with both hands, his breathing slowly going back to normal. He needed to concentrate, to get his thoughts in order. Harald took a deep breath, his eyes briefly closing to allow him to focus. For a second, everything was silent, the ambience of the deck peaceful in a way. Harald opened his eyes.
He blinked. The skeletons were gone. Not just the skeletons, but the deck, the hull, and the lanterns. There was only darkness around him. He blinked once more, rapidly trying to get his vision corrected. Yet nothing changed. Harald looked down at his feet, watching ripples that emanated from his feet. It was like he was standing on water.
“Illusion magic,” he muttered. Harald turned around in the darkness, doing his best to stay calm. “Show yourself! I’ve been subjected to magic like this before. It is nothing new to me!”
Silence.
Harald gritted his jaw. There was only one way to escape an illusion like this. He closed his eyes, focusing on all of his senses. He had to look past his eyes and peer into his surroundings. It was the same tactic he used back when he was still a soldier. All he needed to do was be calm and have a clear head. That way, he could pinpoint the caster and—
“Harald?”
A voice called out from the darkness. The veteran opened his eyes, turning to the source of the voice. In the midst of the darkness was someone he didn’t expect to see. Harald recognized the owner of the voice as the man who he had considered a friend. He was a man of admiration, his past actions getting him harshly extradited from the Lumen ranks.
“It has been a while, my friend,” Sergeant Astera greeted him sorrowfully. He wore his civilian clothes, the same ones he had on when Harald came to Yorktown in search of refuge.
“You’re not real,” Harald growled. “You died a long time ago.”
“Perhaps,” Astera chuckled. “But you haven’t let go, have you? Even when I told you to move on?”
“Get out of my head.” Harald stepped away from the illusion of his old friend.
“Harald, you promised me. Do you remember what it was?”
“Get the hel out of my head!” The veteran shouted. Harald swung his sword at the illusion before him. His sword struck nothing but air, the image of Astera fleeting as fast as it had appeared.
“Harald,” Astera’s voice whispered. The veteran tensed up, his eyes scanning the darkness. No sight of the illusion. Only his voice accompanied Harald in this dark place. “You promised to watch her. To take care of her for me.”
“This is all a trick. A ruse,” Harald growled. He could feel his blood run hot, his muscles tensed as if expecting a strike from the shadows.
“There is no trick, soldier,” a soft female voice rang out all around the veteran. “This is your past. Your fear. Your regrets.”
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“Let me out, you witch!”
“This is your own fault, Harald. Your ghosts punish you for your past sins. It is all your own doing.”
“Show yourself!”
“Captain Harald Stroud!” another voice shouted out from behind, interrupting Harald’s bout with the witch. The veteran felt his blood run cold at the recognition of the voice. He turned to the source, his eyes setting upon a young soldier that had appeared out of nowhere. He was dirty with the blood of his enemies and allies alike, his eyes burning with a rage that did not befit him.
Harald stared at the soldier, his own hand gripping tightly on his blade. “It’s you.”
The young soldier before him gritted his teeth before he shouted out in rage and despair, “Captain Harald Stroud, Chosen of Azlene! I, William Thatcher, challenge you to a duel! For all my dead brothers, I will avenge them!”
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Seamus was in darkness, his mind blank as he tried to recall his last memory.
“Seamus?” A voice rang out to the young man, soft and welcoming.
‘What happened?’ He wondered absentmindedly.
“Sweetheart, please answer…”
Seamus blinked at that, his memory slowly coming back to him.
‘Did I fall? Am I hurt?’
His thoughts ran slowly, his own consciousness unsure of what was happening
“Are you alright Seamus? Wake up!”
The voice stirred the young child, his groans muffled as he picked himself up. Seamus blinked, his eyes settling on the source of the voice. In front of him was a woman he had never thought he would ever see. He blinked once more and his vision cleared.
“Seamus? Are you hurt?” The woman before him asked worriedly. She was on her knees, her hand gently rocking the young child awake. Her red hair was tied back into a neat bun, yet strands of it lingered on her face like stray pieces of yarn. Her skin was a fair white, pale, and flawless. Her blue eyes worriedly examined the child before her, her brow furrowed.
Seamus stared at his mother, unsure if he was really looking at her.
“Seamus? Oh!” the kindly woman exclaimed in surprise when Seamus rushed to hug her, his arms tightly holding onto her. Tears flowed from his eyes, his grip only growing stronger as he buried his face in her shoulder.
“Mother,” he cried out, doing his best not to outright bawl. “I thought you were gone. You and father, I thought you were both gone.”
“I’m right here, my dear. I’m not leaving you,” his mother cooed softly.
Seamus sniffed and took a deep breath, his gaze moving to his surroundings. They were in the family library, its shelves stocked full with books of many origins. Sunlight peered in through the skylight, illuminating the place in a heavenly glow. Seamus gently pulled away from his mother, his hand moving to touch at his head. He winced at the sudden jolt of pain, realizing that he had hit his head.
“I-I fell,” Seamus muttered aloud.
“Yes, you did,” his mother chuckled. “Gave me quite the scare, too. Seamus, you have to be careful when it comes to climbing the shelf ladder.” She sighed in frustration. Still, she didn’t seem angry at little Seamus, who could only wipe his tears away.
“Be careful next time, sweetheart. Accidents happen, yes, but I don’t know what I would do to myself if you got seriously hurt under my watch.” His mother gave him another hug before she stood up. “Now then, let us find that book of stories you wanted?” She smiled at little Seamus, her hand gently brushing away the strands of red hair that settled on her face.
Seamus nodded slowly, his own feet picking themselves up. “I had a nightmare,” he murmured suddenly. “I was older, and the clan was falling,” Seamus thought back to what he had dreamt before he awoke. “I survived, but… everyone was lost.” He could feel himself tear up again. “I survived for weeks on nothing but rats and grog before I finally escaped to some island.”
“An island?” His mother questioned.
“I washed up there and…” Seamus blinked, his memory of the nightmare slowly becoming vivid. “I found my friends there,” he recalled. “They helped me and kept me alive. They fed and housed me.”
“They sound like good friends,” his mother commented, her hand wrapping around Seamus as she guided him to the shelf.
“It was so real,” the young child admitted. “It was like I was really there.”
“How interesting, perhaps it means something?” Seamus’ mother looked to the hallways that led out of the library. “Maybe Wizard Falrick can help interpret it? We can go there if you like.” Seamus looked to the hallway, the same one that led into the rest of the maze-like fort.
“No. I like it better here,” Seamus whispered.
“Alright then. Let us find a book to read?” His mother asked, her smile enough to calm the child’s worried heart. Before Seamus could answer, an icy chill came over him, goosebumps suddenly appearing on his skin. He turned around, but nothing was there. Yet the child could swear he saw a shadow in the corner of his vision move.
“Yes, please,” Seamus muttered an answer, deciding to ignore the cold feeling that plagued the back of his mind.
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“My sweet little Kvitravn. Sleep tight and remember, your father and I love you very much.”
James Holter thrashed violently in his bed, panting heavily. His phone’s alarm blared annoyingly on the ground, along with a couple of other things he knocked over in his sleep.
“Fuck,” he managed out, the memory of his dream fleeing from his mind as fast as he awoke. By the time James turned his alarm off, the recollections of his nightmare were gone forever, leaving the twenty-five-year-old confused and slightly shaken. He looked down at the fallen items, his eyes scanning through them. He let out a breath of relief, thankful that his father’s ashes weren’t among the damage. The silver urn was still on its small shrine near his desk, where it had been for years. James sighed softly, wiping off the dust that had settled on the urn overnight.
James slipped out of bed, his hands shaking as he tried to recall his dream. He tried hard, as it felt like the dream was important, vital even. Yet nothing came to mind. James cursed silently to himself, taking deep breaths as he tried to clear his head. Sweat dampened his clothes, revealing to the young man that he had one hell of a nightmare.
“Do the meds have something to do with it?” James thought aloud, his gaze moving to the bottle of pills that sat on top of his dresser.
‘Maybe it’s best if I just skip taking them for today.’
The young man moved on to grab some clean clothes, hoping to get a shower in before he was late for work once more. As James left his room, he caught Nick eating breakfast on the kitchen table; his roommate was watching some random show on his laptop.
“Another rude awakening?” He called out to James.
“Yeah,” James answered back slowly. Why did this feel familiar?
“Hey, Monica called. She wanted to remind you that your anniversary was tonight,” Nick mentioned.
“Tonight?” James glanced at his phone. Sure enough, it was the 27th of March. Saturday.
“Congrats on the big four, by the way,” Nick called out.
“Four?”
“Yeah, four years together? I thought for sure you guys were going to break up last year, but you two pulled through.”
James gave Nick a blank look. He opened his mouth to question it, but nothing came out.
‘Has time gone that fast? Weren’t we in our third year together? Now that I think about it actually, when did March arrive?’
James could’ve sworn it was just summer recently, yet both Nick and his phone confirmed the date to be early spring.
“You good man?”
“I’m fine, it’s just that…I need to think.”
With that, James made his way into the bathroom, his head hurting with confusion. “Am I going crazy?” He muttered to himself, his hand moving to scratch at his beard. When his fingers grazed against a shortened stubble, James couldn’t help but jump. He looked in the mirror, where his visage was on display. His blond hair was cut short, his beard nothing more than a faint stubble. He touched his groomed face, the feeling all too foreign to him. But why? Why was this foreign to him? He had always kept himself clean and groomed, right?
James shook his head. “I’m going crazy. That nightmare is messing with my mind. Of course, there’s nothing wrong.” He looked at his clean clothes, which comprised a buttoned shirt and black slacks. They looked unfamiliar to him. He never knew he had clothes like these before.
“My job,” James mumbled, his mind going to the promotion he had gotten a month back. How could he forget? Kim had promoted him and had moved his position to a much more comfortable one.
James chuckled. “Now it’s coming back to me.” He sighed in relief. He wasn’t going crazy. It seemed like that dream really shook him up. With that in mind, James went ahead to take his shower, washing away the worries he had held.
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Harald fought tirelessly, his arms burning with exertion. He cut down the illusion of William, watching as the young man’s wounds bled all over the ground.
“Get out of my head!” Harald shouted out.
“Never,” William croaked out. He stood back up, his sword swinging back at Harald. The veteran dodged the attack, his sword moving in to stab the young man through his appendix. The blade pierced through with a sickening sound, causing William to falter and go limp. “You’ll pay… You’ll pay for it all…” He groaned. The young man slid back, his corpse landing on the rippling ground.
“Let me out of this dreamscape, witch!” Harald shouted out into the void. No response. Harald could feel a tinge of hopelessness spread in his chest, the pain of his past taking its toll on his heart. He fell to his knees, weakened by the constant fighting.
“This is what you deserve, Harald.” William’s voice sounded out behind the veteran.
“I… I never meant for this. Never meant for those deaths,” Harald muttered.
“Yet you took the risk,” another voice spoke up. It was Astera. Harald turned to the man who was his former brother in arms. He looked disappointed with the veteran, his amber eyes glinting with disbelief. “You never told me what happened. Was it because you knew I would hate you for it?” He asked.
“Was it because you had no one else to care for you?” Another voice, female this time, rang out. Harald turned to see more people show up in the darkness. Their looks and gazes were full of disgust and pity.
“Or was it because you were full of your own pride?!” William’s voice shouted.
Harald forced himself to stand up, his knees weaker than before. “What I did years back will forever haunt me. I never wanted to get those men killed,” he admitted. The veteran looked at William. “I’m sorry…”
The young man before him stared at Harald with the same fury as before, his jaw clenched tightly. “I will never forgive you. Not as long as you live!”
Harald stared at William, his teeth gritted as he raised his own sword. Harald would continue to fight against the young man before him for what seemed like eternity.
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Seamus pulled at the book that was wedged tightly on the shelf. Using his child-like strength, he wiggled it loose.
“See? I didn’t need help.” Seamus proudly displayed his feat of strength to his mother, who smiled in return.
“My my, what a strong child you are. You truly are my son,” she laughed. Seamus felt his cheeks burn from her words, his smile growing as he hugged the enormous book.
Before Seamus could ask for his mother to read the book to him, a guard walked into the library.
“My Lady, Jarl Yorn requests your presence!” He called out.
“Oh, did he?” Mother frowned at the guard’s words. She turned to Seamus, who was confusedly looking at the guard and her. “I guess I’ll have to get going. If you like, I can get Uncle Rould to–”
“Where are you going?” Seamus asked, his voice slightly shaking.
“Your father and I are headed to Aldren. Your aunt and cousins are settling in there, and I promised to help.”
“Aldren?!” Seamus exclaimed. “But it’s full of orcs and danger!”
“Where did you hear that, Seamus? Did the kids in the harbor town tell you that?”
“N-No! It’s just that…” Seamus trailed off. His mind had gone blank. He could’ve sworn there was a plausible reason why he was terrified of Aldren. Yet he couldn’t think of any reasons.
The cold shiver came back to the young child, this time stronger than before. He shuddered. “I… I…”
“Seamus…” His mother went down on a knee, her brow furrowed. She gently grabbed at the young child’s shoulders. “Nothing bad is going to happen. Your father and I will be alright. Your aunt and uncle will be alright. Your cousins will be alright. I promise.”
“R-Really?”
“Yes really,” she flashed him a confident smile. “Your father is the strongest in Valenfrost. There isn’t anything that can challenge him. I swear my life on it.”
Seamus could only stare at his mother, who innocently grinned. Her fair skin and blue eyes should have been calming the child before her. Yet, Seamus felt nothing but the cold pit that called to him. The image before him flashed suddenly, showcasing the blood moons and the burning fort. The blood stained bodies that littered his former home. His clan flag, torn and disgraced. The visage of his father that showed the ‘unkillable’ man covered in spears and arrows.
The images had only flashed for a second, yet it was long enough for Seamus to realize the reality of it all. This wasn’t real. He felt the world suddenly grow darker, everything stopping in place. A voice echoed out in the dream.
“If only you knew the truth.”
It was his own voice, one that was devoid of any sense of humanity. The young Halvorson tensed up.
“Who are you?” Seamus asked.
“I am the part of you buried deep in the recesses of your mind,” the voice explained. “I saw it all happen.”
“Saw what happened?”
“The day we split. The same day you saw it all burn down in front of you. The day where it was all too much. Would you like a glimpse?”
Before Seamus could protest, he was subjected to the horrors of his memories.