Groggily, Archibald was naturally roused from his sleep by the dull white light of the sun that tapered through the white-gray morning fog visible just outside his window. Blearily he thought to himself in half acceptance and frustration at his unrestful situation, “Ugh…I don’t think I got more than a few hours of actual sleep last night. Some of Riege’s memories were just too damn loud.”

Letting out a tired sigh, Archibald slowly pulled his torso out from under the brown-furred bed sheets and propped his arms behind his as support. Still groggy, Archibald removed his right hand from its position of support and rubbed his eyes monotonously, still not fully awake or clear-headed just yet.

Quietly grumbling to himself Archibald recalled the more impactful of Riege’s memories as an unnoticeable gleam of light passed by his eyes, “Riege’s family really went out like that huh? It’s one thing to be murdered by beasts outside the city or die in battle, but to go out like that? Fuck, I can’t believe the City Order would show that scene to a kid…this world’s shaping up to be just as fucked up as Earth, maybe more if my luck's any indication...”

Trying his best to shake the scene of Archibald’s parent's dissected and disfigured corpses out of his mind, Archibald was truly thankful that he felt very little emotion when viewing Riege’s memories. “Death by fucking ritual sacrifice and ingredient harvesting…what the fuck is up with that…” Forcefully, Archibald shifted his train of thought, and swept the images to the back of his mind, “Ugh, forget about it for now Archibald, with any luck I’ll be learning about it soon enough.”

However, despite his best efforts to forget Riege’s memory of his disfigured parents, the image just wouldn’t fade away. It had this tenacity, this permanence like it wanted to be seen. No, like it needed to be seen. It was as if the last vestige of Riege was taunting Archibald, leering at him and lashing out in vitriol within his mind, “See! You’re not home anymore! No rich daddy and mommy to save you now! You’re all alone out here, and one day this will be you! You’ll die in agony for what you did to me! You know you deserve it too! You’ll be just like them for what you did to me, you’ll…"

“Enough!” Archibald was exasperated at this sudden and inane train of thought, “What is this? Some part of my consciousness that's projecting its guilt onto me or something? I didn't even do anything bad in the first place, it was out of my hands! Ah! It's like I can't catch a fucking break! It's one thing after the other!” Now shooting up from his bed, Archibald eyes flashed in visible multicolored light as he raced to the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. Breathing heavily for no apparent reason, Archibald didn't even think to question his irrationally upset state.

Jabbing his finger into his forehead, Archibald spoke aloud in a rising rage, “Still in there Riege? Or is it just some shitty part of me that can’t fucking seem to accept that for me to survive, some random brat had to fucking die.” Heaving, Archibald waited for any sign of Riege’s consciousness to provoke him.

With no response even after a few minutes, Archibald's breathing grew increasingly heavy. Archibald only grew more and more furious as he stared himself in the eyes, his face curling up into a smile of pure rage. Rage that was directed solely at himself. So blinded was Archibald by his irrational emotions that he didn’t even care to notice that a trickle of multicolored light flooded his eyes and was clearly visible.

“So it’s just my consciousness then huh, not some fucking remnant of Riege or something, huh?! That’s it! That’s what’s decided to torment me now for some fucking reason.” Out of breath, Archibald’s furious grin morphed into a near-bestial sneer. “Fine then, I’ll play this little game with myself."

Somehow unaware of his now nearly glowing eyes, Archibald closed them and shifted his entire focus on the memory of Riege’s parents and their death. He planned to confront this annoyance head on. Like this, Archibald’s eyebrows tensed in concentration, as like a desert mirage, scores of scenes flooded his mind in blurry swarms.

Gradually, like a diver’s vision as they gradually rise out of the water, the blurry images slowly cleared and were replaced by entirely lucid memories.

…

Trembling, Archibald looked down at his hands, they seemed way smaller than he was used to and were caked in mud. Confused, Archibald looked up and noticed that a man in a black and dark emerald green uniform stood just a few meters in front of him with his back to him. The man appeared to be shouting at some men that seemed to be carrying something as they approached closer. Archibald couldn't quite make out what the man was saying, his hearing preoccupied with a low buzzing.

Trying to get a better look at the man, Archibald found that he did not look kind. From behind, his dark gray hair and rough stubble, combined with the harshness of his chin and the roughness of his near stone gray skin only made him seem even less approachable. Factoring in his dark and harsh-angled uniform, the man was damn near unapproachable.

Yet, Archibald somehow knew that he had to talk to this man. Shakily Archibald gulped as he looked at the surroundings before trying to talk to the man. Swiveling his head around him, Archibald was greeted with the sight of what looked like a medieval town square. Below him the floor was made of dark gray cobblestone and the buildings around him were reminiscent of a marketplace straight out of a harsh fantasy, with weird smokes and gnarled plants and roots grasping like pointed claws at the entrances of some of the more bizarre buildings. Looking up Archibald saw that foreboding clouds loomed like an endless sea of gray.

Gradually, the strangeness of the situation faded from Archibald’s mind completely, his entire being instead molded into this strange scene seamlessly. He both knew and didn’t know why he was here, but that didn’t matter. No longer was he confused, now he just felt pure and unadulterated dread. The dread weighed so heavy on his mind, that it felt like a thousand-kilogram chain held him down by the ankles.

Somehow, knowledge of the location ran through Archibald’s mind, and he knew himself to be in the Ingredient District of the Upper Round of Craggvale, this area was usually reserved for the higher-class citizens. But that wasn’t all, this place wasn’t just for the wealthy. No, it was also for the powerful. Supposedly Physiquers passed through here regularly, and while the market was devoid of but a few onlookers tens of meters away, Archibald was still a bit stunned by the idea that those mysterious and eccentric beings may very well be near him.

Still, something inside of Archibald pushed him forward like a robot, erasing all other emotions but dread. He had to walk toward the man. Oh, he dreaded it so much, but he knew he had to. Stiffly, seeming to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders Archibald raised one dirty brown leather shoe and took a shaky step towards the man.

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…

Rain. The tears started to pour down his face like rain, and a sadness like Archibald had never felt before rushed at him in insurmountable waves. His very soul seemed to be moaning and crying out like a wounded beast as it bashed itself to death against its cage. He couldn’t stop the spasms of his chest that reached like barbed claws into his heart and brought out inaudible yet bloody, wretched, and miserable cries.

Cold winds blew through the marketplace, and with it came rain. Archibald took another step forward, his back hunched as if he bore a terrible weight that aged him immeasurably. Above him, the sky was an unconsolable gray that seemed to encompass the world. The sky was crying.

Tears trickled down his face and mixed with the rain to form rivers that grew from his eyes and found their home in the ocean that was the wet stone.

Shakily Archibald took another step forward, his broken and feeble wails like the dying of an animal now audible even to the man a few meters away.

Winds whipped at Archibald's face and tore away at any warmth that he felt, but he didn’t notice. His spirit was already absent of warmth. He knew what lay ahead of him, and it left him desolate.

Gazing through blurry eyes, Archibald took another step forward. The sound of his shoe resounded on the pavement and ran through his body like the ring of a grand clock, leaving him stiff and stunned. He knew that he was a step closer and he hated what it meant.

His wails were now audible to all those in the market, but he didn’t even notice. No, he was in an ocean and the waves threatened to choke and drown him.

Like a dying beast, gasps of pain leaped and tore their way with broken nails out of his throat leaving his voice raw and full of agony.

“...Someone grab the poor boy before he falls over...” Like lighting, a grating and unkind voice pierced the veil and touched his drowning mind.

Staring at the cold and wet gray stone, Archibald stood still in place, his back hunched and tears still streaming endlessly down his face. The man’s words were simply noise that layered itself upon his traumatized mind.

From afar, like a distant thunderclap of lighting, more words formed noise and layered upon Archibald's mind in a deafening murmur.

“...Fine, I’ll settle this...” The voice was a distant, yet approaching unpleasant grating that seemed to rub against Archibald's brain like sandpaper.

Reeling, Archibald blanched like he was just punched terribly in the stomach. From downwind, he smelled something truly terrible. He knew what it was, and it broke him.

Face already a near skeletal pale Archibald retched and spewed out only a small puddle of bile and stomach acid onto the wet stone below him. He felt nothing though, the pain of his mind trampled over that of his body.

Like a strike of lightning, Archibald felt a large hand and rough hand clasp his shoulder as it forcefully straightened his hunched back and pushed him stumbling over his feet a step forward.

“I’m sorry son, this is all we could get back.”

Archibald peered up at the face that spoke to him and found that he couldn’t really make out his face, his vision was still too blurry from the stinging tears. All that he saw was a vague outline peering down at him like an indifferent god.

Like an echo from a distant mountaintop, Archibald heard the approach of footsteps and mechanically shifted his vision to the approach of two blurry silhouettes that appeared behind the man in the uniform, whose rough edges were now dulled by his tears.

Archibald saw the cart that the men towed behind him, and he knew. Oh, Old Ones, why did he know?

The world seemed to stop, at some point the cart lay in front of him, a leather tarp covered the cart’s contents.

Like claps of far and distant thunder, Archibald heard the noise of the man in the uniform speaking but couldn't comprehend what he said.

“...are you ready?” Archibald didn’t hear what the man said, but as he wiped the tears from his eyes, the man took it as admission.

“...I’m sorry son, it was a small school of around…” Archibald tuned out the words, his hearing was replaced with a high-pitched ringing. The two men let down the cart and removed the tarp, displaying its contents to the world.

…

Violent, his cries were violent and bloody. They felt like claws within his throat, but the physical pain paled in comparison to that in his mind.

There. Dismembered, broken, and left incomplete were the bloody and pale corpses of his mom and dad.

Like a beast that was gutted while still alive, all that came from his mouth were violent groans.

Images of his parents, their smiles full of kindness and warmth overlaid with the toothless gaping maws that presented themselves in front of him. Images of their eyes, full of praise and love and so much emotion overlaid with the absent and bloody, pulpy pits that replaced their eyes.

Memories of running his hands through their black hair and comparing it to his own raced through his mind, and when he went to feebly trace his hands over the mirage that was his memory, all he was greeted with was a bloody and torn scalp. He felt no hair, only blood, mangled skin, bone, and viscous brain juices.

Like a torrential river, memories rushed through his mind. Of him hugging his mom. Of him hugging his dad. Yet when he went to grasp at their arms, he found them to be stiff and bent in strange directions. When he went to embrace them, to feel their warmth, he was instead greeted with cold and dead skin. He was greeted with blood and empty body cavities, the entrance to which was like a tear that duplicated itself onto his mind and drained him of his sanity.

He wailed until he couldn’t, everything around him became nothing more than a distant memory as he stared down at his parents. As every memory of them was relived in his mind, they ultimately only served to torment him further as they vanished and died when overlaid with sight in front of him.

Gradually, he stopped crying, he stopped wailing. He stopped feeling.

There were no more choked cries, no more inconsolable wailing. No, he was beyond that. As he looked down at the remains of his parents, Archibald felt…empty. There were no screams that he could let loose, there were no tears that would help.

Instead, Archibald felt it within him. He felt it shatter completely. He knew that he was…Alone.

…