2
Deadline
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Seamus was freaking out, close to losing it, as his hands shook uncontrollably.
“Dammit, Seamus!” Dahlia shouted at him as he dropped the corpse’s legs.
“I-I’m sorry,” Seamus apologized in a shaky voice.
He couldn’t help it. James was fucking dead, his body still warm as the unlikely pair carried it through the forest. Just a bit ago, they were both on their way to Dahlia’s home before she turned back due to hearing a commotion. Both of them had run back to the courtyard, only to see the crowd from before gathering around the center.
There, they had found James–a short sword through his chest–bleeding out as the townsfolk tried to revive him. Dahlia had managed to convince them to let her take James’ corpse so they could try their luck at her hut. They had to hurry, though, because James was losing heat and blood.
“Pick up his feet! We don’t have much time!” Dahlia hurried Seamus up, who was still trying to calm his nerves. All of a sudden, James coughed, his eyes slowly opening before he gasped for air. Dahlia’s eyes widened.
“He’s still alive! We have to hurry!” She shouted. Seamus nodded and hurried his pace, his feet shimmying around loose rocks and wet snow. As he tried his best not to slip on the steep path, he could hear James try his best to speak.
The dying man took in a raspy breath but didn’t say anything as he gurgled up blood, the crimson substance running down his cheeks and onto the snowy ground. He didn’t seem responsive, his eyes still staring up at the sky. The shaman looked at Seamus with a worrying look. Time was running out, and they had to hurry.
The duo quickened their pace, with Seamus hoping to Delphine that the dying man would stay conscious enough. Snowfall had begun only an hour ago, piles of snow slowly appearing as they carried him.
“Don’t you die! Fuck!” Dahlia seemed close to losing it, her eyes wide with fear. As the shaman tried to keep James awake, Seamus could see the faint outline of what looked like a hut, snow piling onto its sloped roof.
“I can see it! Hurry!” Seamus exclaimed, which seemed to quicken their pace. He hoped that they would arrive in time before James bled out and died.
‘This is all my fault. I’m the reason he’s like this. Oh gods.’
“He lost consciousness! Hurry!” Dahlia shouted, just as they managed to reach the hut. The two burst through the door, carrying James’ body as they rushed inside. The hut’s interior was thankfully lit up by a small fire burning in the corner, the flames flickering weakly as a cold breeze went in through the door.
“Set him down here!”
Dahlia guided Seamus as they lowered James’ dying body onto the ground, where his blood started to pool slowly. The shaman quickly moved to shut the door behind them, leaving the two men at the center of the room. Seamus looked down at the dying man, his eyes focusing on the hilt of the short sword that was protruding from his chest.
He noted how much blood there really was, as it stained James’ entire shirt and was covering Seamus’ hands and torso. The young man had to restrain himself from passing out at the sight of it all. He had to focus on saving James.
Dahlia was busy rummaging through one of the two chests in the hut, throwing random stuff as she murmured to herself.
“Seamus! I need you to pull out that sword now!” She exclaimed as she stood up again, a weirdly shaped chalk in her hand. She proceeded to draw with the chalk, drawing runes and symbols on the wooden floor around James. Dahlia looked up from her work to glare at Seamus once more.
“Now!” She shouted. Seamus gulped and did as he was told. His hands trembled as he gripped onto the short sword’s handle. He tightened his grip, trying to pull the blade out. James winced in response, more blood flowing from the wound as Seamus pulled.
‘I have to do it quickly to make sure he doesn’t feel much pain.’
Seamus swallowed and took a shaky breath of the cold air. Then, without hesitation, he yanked the sword out of James in one go. Crimson speckled everywhere as a result, followed by James’ pained screaming.
“Oh gods,” Seamus whispered in horror as more blood pooled around James.
“Help me stop the bleeding!” Dahlia shouted before she threw her chalk away to tend to James.
Seamus attempted to slow down the constant bleeding, his hands moving to cover the gaping wound. Dahlia uncorked a small potion bottle before slowly pouring the contents into James’ mouth.
“It won’t be enough to fully heal him,” she muttered as Seamus applied pressure, “but it’ll replenish some of his lost blood, keep him alive for a little longer.”
“What do we do?” Seamus asked. There were few things that can heal a hole through one’s chest, none of which were possible in a shaman’s hut.
“Just keep him alive long enough,” Dahlia vaguely muttered. Without another word, she stood back up and went back to drawing symbols around James.
Seamus hoped she would hurry because he knew that he was going to pass out any second from the horrific sight. He had forced himself to look away while he put pressure on James’ chest.
‘Please hurry!’
After what seemed like forever, Dahlia finally finished with whatever she had been doing. Seamus looked at all the runes drawn around him and James, all of them fitting into the carved circle on the floor.
“Let me take over,” Dahlia muttered as she shoved Seamus aside. He was more than happy to get out of the way.
“What are you going to do?” Seamus asked. He could hear the tinge of fear that came with his words. It was for good reason, too. James was nearly dead, his face pale and an ungodly amount of blood surrounding his body. In his point of view, there was no way in hel he could be saved.
“I need you to get as far away as possible,” Dahlia warned. Seamus hesitantly stepped away, pressing himself against the wall of the hut.
Dahlia took a deep breath, her hands shaking as she unsheathed her dagger, the engravings of which glinted in the low light. She whispered something softly to the dagger, causing it to glow a soft white. After that, she started to chant, the words sounding foreign and ancient as she stood above James’ body.
Seamus watched as the surrounding runes slowly began to glow a dim blue. They seemed to brighten at every word Dahlia chanted out, lighting the hut in its blue glow. The ritualistic chanting slowly got louder, Dahlia’s voice raising as the hut got colder.
The runes around Dahlia brightened to the point of nearly blinding everyone. Seamus shut his eyes tightly for a moment, the brightness dying down almost immediately after.
He slowly opened his eyes and saw how the entire room nearly went dark. The fireplace was out, the flames dead despite its logs half burnt. The once glowing runes on the ground were also dead, leaving the hut in near darkness.
The only light in the hut was that of Dahlia’s dagger, which now glowed a soft blue. Without a word, the shaman climbed over James’ body, her hands raising the glowing dagger high.
“What are you…?” Seamus started. The young man wouldn’t be able to finish. He instead watched in horror as Dahlia plunged the dagger deep into James’ chest, making a sickening sound that echoed throughout the room.
The ritual site exploded in magical feedback to the action, sending objects flying. Seamus didn’t have time to react as he was blinded once again, his body thrown back against the wall, where he was suddenly knocked out.
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James was looking at oblivion, his body seemingly floating in what he assumed was water. There was nothing but darkness surrounding him. It was confusing and jarring to him. Just a minute ago, he was staring at the cloudy night sky, which had faded away into the same darkness he was looking at. James had regained his vision a second after that due to the overwhelming pain he had felt. It was then and there when he saw Dahlia raise her glowing dagger, the same one she had always kept on her.
James had watched in silent shock as she stabbed him with the dagger, the act of which sent him back to this void. He had been lying here for a while now as the darkness swirled around him. He frowned before sitting up to look around. Despite being in an oblivion of pitch black, he could see. He saw how the inch-high water extended forever, with only the void in the distance.
“Where am I?” James asked himself. He quickly realized he was unable to think. No matter how hard he tried, James could only speak his thoughts aloud.
“What the hell?” He asked again before looking around the prison he was trapped in. “Is this… my mind?” He wondered out loud. It was a strange thing, not being able to think in silence anymore.
“It would only make sense… I can’t think of any thoughts,” James sighed, still unconvinced. “Then how did I end up here? I have never seen this place before,” he thought aloud again before spotting a small figure in the distance. James blinked in surprise at the figure. He started walking slowly to the anomaly in this void, which was as still as a statue.
“Who are you?” He asked. He stopped his walk once he got a better view of the stranger. It was a man, ripped cloak partially covering his bloody steel armor as he looked off into the distance. He had short black hair, which looked to be drenched in sweat and blood. His face was pale, almost like he had seen a ghost.
“Or lost a lot of blood,” James muttered aloud, stepping a bit closer.
“Kill… Kord,” the man suddenly murmured, which caused James to jump.
“What?” he asked, to which the man responded, his eyes meeting with his gaze.
“Who are you? Where is Kord?” The stranger asked suddenly, anger in his voice. He turned to James, giving the young man a better view of his mangled and bloody armor. Before James could answer, a sudden pain came over his head, like someone had drilled into his skull. It seemed to happen to the other man as well, who doubled over in pain. Both men were soon on their knees, screaming as they both clutched their heads.
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“Seamus! Hold him down!”
Dahlia’s shouts seemed to wake up the young man, who groaned as he rubbed his head. Seamus’ vision cleared as he saw what was happening. James was thrashing around, screaming as he clutched his head. Dahlia was trying to restrain him, but the once dying man was somehow able to resist her attempts. He was even throwing the shaman around as he screamed.
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“I’m coming,” Seamus groaned before he joined Dahlia’s attempts in trying to hold down the revived man. James would thrash like crazy, his arms throwing the young man back a couple of feet. The act nearly knocked him out.
‘For a man who was on the verge of death ten minutes ago, he sure seems to be lively,’
Seamus gritted his teeth and tried again, this time putting all of his weight onto James as he tried to hold him down. After a few seconds of this, the other man finally stopped screaming, his body going limp as Seamus finally managed to get on top of him. The young man sighed in relief and took a better look at James. His shirt was soaked in blood and ripped, but his wound was miraculously gone.
“What did you do to him?” Seamus asked. Before he could get an answer, however, James’ eyes suddenly opened, his retinas burning a bright blue. His hand shot up right after, grabbing Seamus’ neck. James scowled as he stared into Seamus’ frightened eyes, an ethereal voice coming out of his throat.
“Don es? Ubi est Kord?” James asked, his voice deeper and with a hint of anger.
“W-What?” Seamus asked, terrified as James’ eyes burned brighter, almost blinding him.
“Ubi est Kord?!” He shouted again, spittle flying out of his mouth. Seamus tried to come up with an answer, but it would prove to be fruitless, as James’s grip suddenly went limp. The blue glow in the other man’s eyes died, his entire body falling back onto the floor right after. As soon as James’ body hit the ground, Seamus scurried away, trying to get as far away as possible. He looked at Dahlia, who seemed just as shaken as him.
“What the fuck was that?!” Seamus shouted. He could feel his rapid heartbeat in his ears.
“It could be a couple of things,” Dahlia murmured. “But if I’m right about my hunch, we’re looking at something bad… Something really bad.” Seamus could see how the shaman kept her dagger close, the implications striking fear into him.
“Let’s…Let’s hope it’s not that,” Seamus stammered before he pressed himself against the wall. He tried to get his breathing under control, unsure of what to make of this.
One thing was certain, however. This was going to be a long night.
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The spirit fought with the young man, trying to regain control of the body he had woken up in. Just a second ago, he had awoken in the world of the living again, trying to figure out what had happened.
Instead of waking up in the war-torn city he had just been in, the spirit had instead found himself being restrained by a young man, which he didn’t take lightly. Just as the spirit had attempted to interrogate the terrified stranger, he was violently pulled from the body’s control, forcing him back into the mindscape he had woken up in. The two souls fought for control of the body, their minds clashing. It caused them both unbelievable pain whenever they had clashed, but each one was determined for control.
Both fought for what seemed like an eternity, every clash resulting in agony and restraint. It wasn’t long before the inevitable happened. In the end, both sides tired each other out, with the young man calling a truce. The spirit obliged, as none of them wanted to feel the pain of clashing again.
“Who are you?” The man had asked, confused on why the spirit was there in the first place.
The spirit wasn’t honestly sure. He tried searching through his memory in an attempt to find an answer. However, there was barely anything resembling a memory. Instead, there were only instincts and vague recollections that he himself barely recognized. One name stood out however, and the spirit decided to take it as his own.
“My name is Faust,” he said to the other man. Hearing his own voice speak out the name sounded right.
The blond-haired man gave him a slight smile. “Nice to meet you, Faust… I’m James,” he introduced himself back.
The two had somehow managed to strike a companionship, forged through the pain and clashing of souls. It wasn’t anywhere near a friendship, but it was enough for them to stop fighting. For now.
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The man named Faust didn’t seem to be in the mood for clashing anymore, which gave James a moment of rest and time to think. One thing was certain, the young man’s body was home to two souls, a fact that boggled him.
“How the hell did this happen?” James wondered to himself. He glanced at Faust, who wandered around the mindscape. The spirit still wore his battered armor and bloody clothes, making him look like some wandering ghost. Faust obviously didn’t remember anything past his name. He didn’t know who ‘Kord’ was.
“What’s the last thing you remember before waking up here?” James asked. He sincerely hoped that he could get some context.
Faust stopped his mindless wandering, seemingly thinking.
“Blood,” he said softly, “The sky and ground… spinning.” he suddenly winced and clutched his head, “and the name Kord,” Faust said through gritted teeth. “I was supposed to kill him… but–” James suddenly felt a sharp pain course through his brain, the feeling forcing him and Faust to double over in pain.
“Ok,” James groaned as the pain subsided. “Let’s not do that again.” He stood up straight and looked around in the abyss. With some effort, he could probably take control again. Still, it would probably mean another power struggle between him and Faust again. He had to find a way around that.
James pondered over this, closing his eyes as he tried to imagine what the rest of his own mind looked like. He imagined it like a house, sections of it representing parts of his mind. They were currently in the ‘Attic,’ overlooking the rest of the house, but not in control of it. Maybe if he put Faust in a different part of the house? Somewhere where he doesn’t have control.
“Faust, I’m gonna have to ask you a favor.”
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James groggily woke up, feeling disorientated as he opened his eyes. He tried to stand up, only to find himself tied to the chair again. His sudden movements were enough to tip over in the chair, causing the man to hit the cold ground hard. James groaned, his eyes settling on the dried blood on the wooden floor.
“I… I have so many questions about last night,” he muttered. “But first… why am I tied up?” James looked around the room before feeling his body suddenly seize out of control, his arms flexing as he tried to break free from his bindings. He could feel the instinctive attempt of the spirit inside him to take control.
‘Really, man?’
James could feel the spirit quickly give up before he forced Faust back into the basement.
‘It was worth a try,’ an ethereal voice rang out in his head, which felt strange and foreign.
James had Faust go into his mind’s ‘basement’ so he couldn’t try to take over his body again. Still, the spirit had lashed out involuntarily due to his baser instincts, not being comfortable in a position of helplessness.
James sighed and strained against his bindings. “Seamus? Dahlia?” He called out before hearing footsteps behind him.
“He’s finally awake,” Seamus’ voice spoke out, tired and exhausted as he came into view. Seamus looked like hell, dark circles under his eyes as well as a bruised neck.
“What the hell happened?” James asked. He barely remembered anything after Deimos had stabbed him, only recalling the snow and the night sky before he woke up in the void that was his mindscape. Seamus frowned, looking genuinely confused.
“You did this, don’t you remember? You were screaming something in a different language, and your eyes were all… weird!” Seamus shouted, his hands making gestures.
“It’s been a long night,” Dahlia cut in, interrupting the younger man’s vague explanations as she stepped into view.
The unlikely duo went on to explain the rest of the night to James. They recapped the events after his failed duel with Deimos, explaining how the two found him in the courtyard. After that, they dragged him up the steep forest to the shaman’s hut. There, Dahlia had performed some sort of ritual to try to revive him.
Apparently, it worked, but it had resulted in James fighting Dahlia and Seamus off as they tried to calm him down. The situation had worsened to the point where they had to tie him to the chair and watch him the whole night.
James was mortified. He didn’t realize that his clashes with Faust had caused his body to react the way it did. The simple fact that this could have ended badly almost made him want to scream at the spirit.
‘In my defense, I was acting out of confusion and instinct,’ Faust said defensively.
‘We’ll talk about it later,’ James shot back at the spirit.
Conversing with Faust was a strange experience. It almost felt like he was thinking to himself. James felt weirded out at the fact that a spirit was living in his body. That and the fact that Faust could hear his every thought and see whatever he saw. He shivered at the realization. It was too early for this shit.
“Can you just cut me loose?” James asked. “I promise I won’t start seizing out like last night… I can explain it all.”
“Then, explain,” Dahlia said. James could see how exhausted and bloodshot she looked. “Unless we’re sure the ritual worked, you could just be a spirit impersonating James.”
James sighed, feeling a headache coming on. “Fine. Can you at least sit me upright? This dried blood is really unsettling… and sticky.”
After Dahlia sat James upright, he started to explain his side of the story. He told them everything that had happened after they had left the courtyard. How he managed to rope himself into a duel with Deimos and how the marauder chieftain drove a sword through his chest. He also mentioned the two days Deimos gave the island before he returned.
James made sure to omit the part when he recognized the entire duel from his past dreams. The fact he still couldn’t win the fight with that in mind was nightmarish and further proved how much of a threat Deimos was.
“You idiot! Do you have any idea how close you were to dying?!” Dahlia had shouted, with James nodding in return.
“It was stupid, I know,” James responded. “I just… lost myself there.” Losing himself was an understatement. James had turned into a completely different person, his rationale thrown out the window. The anger he felt… it was nothing like he had felt before.
‘I know that feeling. Blood tastes sweet, and the pain starts to feel good,’
Faust’s voice rang through his head. He spoke with a hint of nostalgia, despite not being able to remember anything.
‘Adrenaline can overtake the mind and turn even the most rational of men into mindless brutes. Perhaps you should learn to control yourself before you get yourself into another fight.’
James ignored the spirit’s words. He didn’t want a lesson in control from a spirit that had tried to kill both his friends.
Without acknowledging Faust any further, James continued his retelling of last night. He told his side of what happened after Dahlia and Seamus had found him, about how he woke up in the mindscape after watching the shaman stab him in the chest. He told them about the spirit, how they had clashed for what seemed like forever before they had come to terms.
“You both came to terms?” Dahlia asked almost immediately. There was a tinge of curiosity in her voice.
“Not really… but yeah?” James responded.
Dahlia got uncomfortably close, her stare intense and unsettling. James reflexively pulled his head back, his own gaze locking onto her amber irises.
“Uh…?”
“That wasn’t supposed to happen. At least, to my understanding,” Dahlia muttered. Without warning, she grabbed at James’ jaw, keeping his head in place as she examined his face.
“Wait, so is he compromised or…?” Seamus asked. He made a confused expression at the shaman’s examination of James. “What happened?”
“What happened was James and the spirit I summoned are sharing the same body,” Dahlia explained. There was a noticeable hint of excitement in her voice. “From my knowledge… this has never happened before!”
The shaman pulled away and ran off to grab something from her chest, leaving the two men very confused.
“Wait, what would’ve happened if we didn’t come to terms?” James asked, genuinely worried.
“Then you would’ve died. Or the spirit would’ve possessed you fully, but apparently, neither one happened!” Dahlia shouted as she rummaged through her items.
“Died?! Possessed me fully?!” James couldn’t help but raise his voice. “What exactly were you planning to do?”
“It was the only way I could get a chance to revive you,” Dahlia called back before she pulled out a small journal. “I was hoping for a possession, so I could banish the spirit from your body later on when you finally healed.” she said as she wrote furiously in her journal.
“What?” James asked, confused and slightly terrified.
“I was planning to use the spirit to keep you alive long enough to find a way to heal your wounds…then banish it whenever I found out how to stitch you up,” Dahlia explained, her eyes glued to the journal. James blinked, realizing the situation.
“Wait…are you saying if the spirit leaves my body then...” He started before Seamus finished his sentence, a grim look on his face.
“Then your wounds from before come back…and you die.”
James felt the blood drain from his face as he heard Seamus. James and Faust were stuck with each other, with no way of separating without resulting in the former’s death.