“You truly think the mayor fought off the Dark Entity by himself?” Owen asked scrupulously. They were currently scouring Coed’s Forest in a circle around Alaru. It was a strategy taught to the boys in military training for the search and recovery of lost items or persons. Alaru Town acted as a centre point for their circular pathway, whereby upon a completion of a full rotation around the town, they would widen their conceptual circle and conduct another walk-around. So far, this tactic had taken up the better part of the day with no results aside from infrequent run-ins with Alaru’s hunters, and the sun’s dappled rays angled higher and higher as it dipped lower and lower. Soon, they would have to return to Alaru for rest.

“No,” Cai refuted. “Based upon what the soldiers tell us, the thing is almost unkillable. There is no way the mayor could fight him off without knowledge of some sort of weakness. And if this Myrddin character somehow figured out a weak point, why run off on his own and not tell anyone of it?”

“Maybe the mayor thought he could take it on by himself, or that the weakness required certain conditions that would be difficult or impossible to achieve with others,” Eryk theorised, then elaborated. “Whatever this Dark Entity is, it doesn’t seem to operate under the same rules we do.”

“Again,” Cai reiterated. “Why not tell anyone then?”

“Could he have killed the entity?” Arwen asked.

Cai immediately posed a counter-question. “Why not return, then?”

Arwen paused. “I don’t know… perhaps he killed the Dark Entity, but was grievously wounded and perished soon after?”

“Possible,” Cai admitted. “But I will reiterate my question. If the mayor knew of a way to kill, or ran to try and kill, the Dark Entity, why not tell anyone?”

This time no one had an explanation. “Something strange is going on,” Cai continued. “Did you see the way Wynn reacted every time it was insinuated that Myrddin ran away? He always… flinched, like it pained him.”

“You think he knows something?” Gwyn mused.

“I think he knows what happened to the mayor,” Cai asserted. “But we have no way to prove it ourselves. We do have a way to guarantee a first-hand sighting of his disappearance, however.”

Arwen gave him an odd look. “We do?”

“Yes,” Cai turned to her. “We have you.”

“Me?”

“Specifically, your Light Gem.”

“…”

“Think about it,” Cai pleaded. “I know it may not be a good idea, but Myrddin is clearly on the forethought of Hefin’s mind. I’m sure the Light Gem would choose a memory pertaining to it.”

Gwyn interjected with a hint of annoyance. “What if the Light Gem just shows her a random memory of Hefin’s interaction with his father or something? Even if it does work, we’ll be potentially putting Arwen through emotional pain for little gain.”

“We can use key-words to trigger it.” Cai’s response was instant. “Gwyn… neither of us know what’s going on here. It’s about time we use all of the tools we have at our disposal.”

Gwyn’s gaze shifted to Arwen. “Are you willing, your Teyrn?”

“I’m unsure I want to use it…” Arwen muttered. “I think I can use it. But I’d really rather not…”

“Come on, Arwen.” Cai persisted in his desire for her to use the artifact. “You can really help us out here."

“Shut up! I said don’t talk to me like that,” she hissed back, her anger quickly igniting. “I decide whether I use the Light Gem. Me. No one else. You try going through what I did with it and then willingly aim to use it again…”

“Princess,” Gwyn decided to try another approach. He lay a hand on Arwen’s arm and waited for her to meet his eyes. “It’s your choice. Regardless of whether you want to use it or not, it’ll be fine. But the truth is, we’re all at a loss as to this thing. I think we need you, Arwen. We all do.”

Arwen stared back for a second while Gwyn let his arm drop back to his side. Perhaps… she was being selfish. If Gwyn said they all need her, then surely it was her duty as a Princess to help? But did that reflect her own feelings, or the lessons her father had ingrained into her head when she was younger? Was Arwen comfortable putting herself through other people’s memories again just to be altruistic?

“Fine…” she eventually relented after some thought. “I’ll do it…”

“Thank you,” Gwyn smiled at her in relief, the positive reinforcement blossoming in the Princess’s heart.

“So,” Owen cocked his head curiously. “We’re going to ask Hefin about his ongoings when he saw his father and then dive into his memory?”

“Exactly,” Cai confirmed, meeting the archer’s eyes. “It pains me to suggest this, but perhaps using it on the mayor’s aide, Wynn, is a good idea too. Whatever the soldiers tell us, having one of us see the entity first-hand could be useful. It’s worth a try, at the very least.”

“Is the Princess okay with using it on two people?” Eryk turned to Arwen.

Arwen wasn’t pleased about it, at all. But her father did give her the Light Gem to use, did he not? How many could claim they laid eyes on an artifact crafted by Lye himself? Yet alone those who’ve kept one in their pocket for days on end. To not use it would be a disservice… surely? “Yes,” she mumbled. “I’ll use it on both of them.”

-cut-

When they had completed their full circuit around Alaru, they headed into the gates to return to the inn for the night. They had come up completely empty handed, yet neither Gwyn nor Cai were deterred. “Things like this takes time,” they had said. “If there’s a clue out there, we’ll run into it.”

At the inn’s reception, they decided to grill the innkeeper for any information she may have on the entity or the previous mayor, Myrddin. “I don’t know anything about what this entity thing looks like, only that it needs to be sorted out real soon…” she placed a finger on her cheek in thought. “But that Myrddin is another story. That man simply up and left us to our fate here… and I had always thought so highly of him, too. Maybe he realised something about the Dark Entity that made him instantly run off? I’ll tell you, a good few dozen of Alaru’s citizens have already packed up and left because of all this madness.”

A troubling thought.

The innkeeper continued. “Either way, Myrddin was one of the town’s game hunters before becoming mayor. I can’t say what he was like first-hand, but I’ve heard he was quite adept at it. He was considered a prominent warrior, but then he goes and proves us all wrong by running off now.” She made a tsking noise. “Just shows that the second he ran into something he didn’t understand, he couldn’t handle the pressure. Now his son looks to be the same way. He hasn’t attended any town meetings, has not given us a single speech, and is always seen knock-out drunk at bars… I pity the poor man, I really do.”

Arwen thought it a long-shot, but asked the busy woman anyways. “Do you have any idea what the Dark Entity could be?”

“Hell if I do,” the innkeeper confirmed Arwen’s assumption. “But it’s not natural, that’s for sure. Perhaps the Church will have an inkling?”

The Church of Lye, or often simply referred to as ‘the Church’, was a religious organisation that formed a dominant conglomerate of Loel’s citizens who are almost all believers in the Light and Dark Gods. Its members are fiercely loyal to their religious leaders, who form a triangle-like hierarchy until its zenith where Kyi’yun presides as the Church’s Popess. Its capital, known as The Holy Citadel, stood three days southwest of the Kingdom of Helvetia and was once the only superpower in the world before forming Helvetia which then, just under four-hundred years ago, expanded into its secondary vassal state, Cyfoeth. It was during that time of societal expansion that the Church directly influenced the lives of its people, however around three hundred and twenty years ago, the Church which had been controlling Cyfoeth at the time decided to pull back and shrivel itself into the largely mysterious organisation it represented today. Aside from the Holy Citadel, the Church had no official stake over Loel’s political, economic, and social climate, however most agreed that some form of influencing was ongoing underneath the film of secrecy. The reason behind its release of the iron hold it had over Loel was officially unstated, but some theorise its current obsession with the reactivation of the Tower was at fault.

Either way, going forth to the Church with this matter actually seemed a good idea to Arwen. Their elite warrior group, the Holy Sages, were legendary for their feats and would no doubt be sent over to investigate should Kyi’yun deem the entity worth the trouble. Dealing with unexplainable and otherwise otherworldly occurrences such as this was the Church’s speciality, after all.

They thanked the innkeeper for her help and then made way to the dining hall to grab dinner. They had skipped lunch in their searching and were positively ravenous at this stage. Unfortunately, the hall was just as busy as it was yesterday night. Cai immediately left for the bar area once again, leaving Arwen and the rest of the boys waiting for their food to be made.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Almost immediately, a man from another table approached Arwen and asked if she truly was the Princess of Cyfoeth, or if he was mistaking her. Instead of telling him to go away like she normally would have, however, she decided to make use of the opportunity. “Are you from around here?” she asked him instead.

Gwyn shot her an alarmed look, misinterpreting her intentions with the plain-featured bloke.

“No,” the man replied, evidently happy that she was engaging with him. “But I’ve been stationed here for quite some time, so I’m well informed.”

“What did you think of the old mayor, then? Of Myrddin?”

The man’s eyes instantly narrowed. “I thought he was someone I could rely on when it came down to it, but instead he abandons us. I’m just glad it was in all this, instead of during a Helvetian attack or something. Now, we’re left with the recreant’s son, who in this time of need just staggers around the place, drinking himself half blind.”

“Okay,” Arwen had expected such a reaction. “And what do you think of this thing that attacks you so?”

“Creepy as all hell is what it is,” the man shook his head. “I’ve seen it myself. That thing isn’t human, I’ll tell you that. The way it just twitches and moans… it has to be from the Dark God himself. I know it.”

He then gazed at Arwen as if suddenly remembering why he had initially approached her. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’d rather ram my knee into a table corner every morning,” Arwen smiled sarcastically. “But thank you.”

“Oh… okay,” the defeated male left them to it.

Several minutes passed without a word afterwards.

“You should use that Light Gem,” Gwyn started after it became clear an awkward silence would continue to befall them.

“I am, I do not need any more convincing.” Arwen stated bluntly.

“No, no. I mean, you should practise on people before trying it on important targets like…” he leaned in and said in a lower voice, “the mayor and his aide.”

Arwen froze. “What?”

“Find someone and use the Light Gem,” Gwyn reiterated in an intense voice. “We can’t afford to mess this up if the target can only be probed once by it.”

“I- I…” Arwen found herself stammering at the mere thought of using the artifact on an unknowing victim. “I can’t just use it on someone!”

“Why not?”

“Because they do not know I’m doing it to them!” she hissed. “It’s one thing doing it for important information, but invading a person’s head for nothing? It’s… rude, isn’t it?!”

“Rude?” Gwyn scoffed. “Odd thing to be worried about, but whatever. Fine, if you want to be ethical with it, then use it on me.”

Both Owen and Eryk’s worried gazes flashed to the Sentinel. Arwen herself was baffled. “I’m sorry?”

“Use it on me,” Gwyn repeated. “I give you express consent. I have nothing to hide, and you don’t strike me as the type to gossip. You could use whatever you see in my head against me in some way, but I don’t really care.”

Arwen ignored the other boy’s alarmed looks and frowned. “What am I looking for?”

“Anything. You’re the one looking for information in my head. If I give you something to look for, it’ll ruin the experiment.”

“Okay, then…” Arwen pulled the Light Gem out of her pocket, which was thankfully similar enough to her uniform’s trouser pocket to house the artifact just as snugly. She looked Gwyn in the eyes, but let the gemstone dangle from the chain in her hands. “Tell me… tell me… uh, tell me about… your… your ex-partner!”

Owen choked on his drink, Eryk’s eyes widened, and Gwyn gave her a confused look, but the Princess had already grasped the gemstone and was promptly whisked into the memories of her fellow companion.

GWYN MYRICK STOOD next to a tall Cyfoethian soldier whose head was mostly obscured by a silver helmet and his facial features masked by the pouring rain. Gwyn stood soaked and shivering, the rainwater was washing blood, both his and others, off of his skin, his clothes, even his makeshift practise pike he used. He had gathered around thirty young ones, all around fifteen to sixteen years old, and had aided the Cyfoethian soldiers when those bastard Helvetians attacked. They helped the brave soldiers fight back. And they won.

Surrounding them on the mud-soaked floor were the rounded-up bodies of both friend and foes alike. Gwyn forced himself to look at each one as they were dragged into neat rows on the ground just bordering his home village. Most countenances were frozen in horror and pain, some looked shocked as they stared up at the overcast sky in perpetual gazes. A few were covered in blood; one was even missing a limb.

Neither the soldier nor Gwyn spoke. There was nothing more to be said. Gwyn had acted heroically, for his ragtag reinforcements had managed to turn the tide of battle, but of the thirty youths he led to battle, only eleven survived. It was a dear cost to pay, one the soldier also lamented as he gazed at the static expressions of his fallen comrades.

Gwyn couldn’t feel anything. He ached and was in physical woe, but he expected the killing- the chaos- to have an effect on his mind. Yet, standing here in the horrid cold, he felt numb. Every time he blinked; the image of his pike buried deep into a Helvetian soldier’s midsection flashed in his mind as if burned to the inside of his eyelids. Warfare was unlike anything Gwyn had expected. The sheer brutality and violence of it all shook him to his core, but he simply couldn’t muster up any emotion. Why? Why?? Was he broken?

“Don’t beat yourself up, kid.” His soldier companion said to him. “You’ll be a hero after this gets sorted out. The entire Kingdom will love you.”

A hero. Gwyn didn’t feel like one. He thought heroes were supposed to be noble, and bold, and powerful, and dignified? Yet there was no dignity in the senseless killing that he had partaken in. All for a cause, to defend his home, but this was nothing like the tales of yonder his mother would tell him before she tucked him into bed. He missed his mother. She had died from a ruthless illness that wasted away at her life. The same illness that was spread to his father, then his brother. And when they all died before his eyes, Gwyn was convinced he was next. But that illness had ran its course, and spared him its clutches. Was this how heroes were made? Did they emerge from the horrors of life with their dignity so intact, because their dignity was the only thing they had left?

A hero.

Gwyn begun to hate the word. He hoped it wouldn’t stick. If this is what heroes were about, then he wanted no part of it. The indecency of the battle was like watching his family waste away, soiling themselves and retching all over the floor of their house. There’s no dignity in dying, and no dignity in being a hero.

Gwyn looked up at the soldier’s grim eyes. “I’ll help you identify the kids. I know most of them well.”

The soldier grew concerned. “You sure you’re up to it?”

“Yes,” Gwyn nodded his conviction. “I am.”

“Okay, then. But you tell me if it’s too much.”

It already was, but Gwyn was determined to push through. He was supposed to be a ‘hero’, after all.

What a disgusting word. The heroes weren’t among the ranks of the living, but of those who lay dead by their feet. The youths who had bravely fought alongside him and died, but whose names only Gwyn knew. He wondered if the soldiers would even bother learning their names. Gwyn certainly would learn the names of the soldiers who died, after all. But when it comes down to it, he suspected that no credit or attribution to those poor, dead kids would come of this. Only the living reap the benefits of the true heroes in this world.

Gwyn sighed internally as they approached the first youth lying on the sodden mud. Her blue eyes, once bursting with glistening colour like a vibrant waterfall, were now glassy and lifeless. “Can you identify this young woman?” the soldier asked him.

He squeezed his eyes shut. This was the only weakness he’d allow himself. A moment of reflection. No matter what, he must push forth. He had to fend off the crashing despair that arose from his numbed mind for those who died. So that their deaths weren’t in vain, he’d live for them.

Gwyn opened his eyes, and got to work.

“Why on earth would you chose that for a topic?” Gwyn’s voice was the first thing Arwen heard as she was jolted back to her senses. “Wait… did it happen already?"

Arwen held up a hand, fighting off the tumultuous emotions broiling inside her chest. It was a sensation, she realised, shockingly similar to the rare occasions her dark dreams turned sublime, and a happy fantasy of her reunion with Bran would watch over her as she slept until it faltered and died in the face of harsh reality and she awoke. It would pass, she knew, just like with the rest of the interactions with the artifact. So far, the emotional fallout of Gwyn’s memories was easier to handle than the others, but she wondered if that was due to his emotional state at the time or due to her adaptation to invading the memories of others.

Once mostly recovered, after about a minute of silent looks exchanged among the men, Arwen felt ready to speak. She slowly pocketed the Light Gem and stared into the eyes of the man whose memories she had just witnessed. Her opinion of Gwyn had risen considerably. The man was only sixteen at the time, yet the mental strength he displayed after such a traumatic event had been so admirable that she was beginning to see the plain-looking Sentinel in a new light. “I saw a vision, but it had nothing to do with your… uh, partner, I think.”

Gwyn’s face scrunched up as he considered. “I expected to feel something, but not even a shudder or odd sensation… how strange.” He focused onto Arwen. “What did you see?”

“I saw the aftermath of the Helvetian attack on your home. The dead soldiers, those dead kids, all of it.”

A look of surprise, an expression of horror as repressed memories surged forth, a loosening of the posture as the burden of his past griefs once again bore their weight upon his shoulders. Those were the reactions Arwen had expected from Gwyn, but none of that happened. Instead, he maintained his gaze and nodded sagely. “I wish I could say that was the worst moment of my life, but I think losing my family was far worse.”

“How can you be so… calm?” Arwen was incredulous. Gwyn had experienced far worse, yet appeared none the worse for wear.

“I used to get nightmares,” Gwyn admitted with a slight shrug. “But not anymore. I look to the future, instead of dwelling on the past. I knew that letting that event haunt me was an insult to those who had died, so it is my duty as a survivor to move forward for their sake. Perhaps, somewhere, they are experiencing the life they would’ve lived over my shoulders. It helps to think that way.”

“I’m… sorry for putting you through that,” Arwen was a little grateful, too, admittedly. “But it was a failure.”

“It actually wasn’t,” Gwyn disagreed. “It succeeded. I assume the gemstone didn’t show you enough, but one of the kids who had died was my girlfriend at the time. She had wanted to help out, and I didn’t have the time to argue, so I had just agreed to let her fight. I regret that choice dearly, but I have made my peace. Haven’t been able to look at another girl the same way since, though, so I’ve taken to living alone for my life after that.”

“Oh…” that reminded Arwen a little of herself.

“That sucks,” Owen said quietly. Eryk nodded besides him.

“Are you good to try someone else?” Gwyn asked the Princess.

Arwen stilled. “Another?”

“I was a willing target, and I’d assume your father was too. So far only Cai has been an unwilling target, yet he wasn’t actively trying to resist.”

Arwen saw where he was going with this. She really didn’t want to go again, but if through use her sensitivity to the memories displayed by the Light Gem decreased, then it may be a worthwhile endeavour?

Owen put up his hands. “Not me. No way I’m letting someone through my memories.”

“Come on, Owen,” Gwyn teased. “I doubt she’ll see anything embarrassing. I let her see my memories, did I not?”

“But you’re you,” Owen’s tone was defensive. “I can’t stand the thought of my private moments being exposed. My memories are precious because they belong to me and no one else."

Arwen sighed. Truthfully, she wasn’t that interested in Owen’s memories, being a largely boring person to her. It was the vampire’s that intrigued her, for he had a background in Helvetia and was highly secretive about his past. She decided to make a judgement call. Her hand slithered into her pocket and clutched the cold glossy gemstone. While Gwyn and Owen argued, she turned to the vampire.

“Eryk,” she said loudly. “What’s your history in Helvetia?”

“What?” Eryk met her eyes. The last thing Arwen processed before being whisked away was the widening panic in his dilating irises as he realised what she had done.