We all follow Silas out the door of his stone house. Nowhere to be seen is Cleveland, but outside sits Lennox in its weird gargoyle-like state. The child-turned-statue moves over to Silas like a lost puppy.
Silas tries to shoo Lennox away when he gets close, and the face on the gargoyle stabs at my heart as he does so.
“Get! You’re not wanted ‘round here, Stoneclad. All you do is steal, play tricks, and mess around. That’s why Her Majesty didn’t make any more of you.”
Liquid stone tears fall from Lennox’s heart as the Stoneclad looks at the coarse ground. He doesn’t look at Silas, but I can hear him sputter out a defense.
“Th-th-that’s not true! Lennox tries his best! It’s… just that… Lennox and his brothers and his sisters are scared. And! And.. Her Majesty loves us all! She’s just hurt from the nasty mother! That’s why she hasn’t made more of us!”
Silas just shakes his head and walks away from Lennox. He waves his hand at us, dismissing the gargoyle.
“Deal with him however you’d like. Few of us are willing to endure their nonsense. Stoneclads might have been children once, but enough time has passed that they should be mature. Yet all they are is tricksters.”
Johnny ignores Silas' words and walks over to Lennox first, kneeling in front of the gargoyle. The blind man is unwilling to leave a child behind so easily. Johnny speaks softly to Lennox while looking him in the eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay. I believe that you try your best. You’ve been very helpful so far. We wouldn’t have made it here without you, y’know?”
Lennox looks up at Johnny, the expression of a child who has never had any mentor is obvious. The rocky tears affect the Stoneclad’s voice by making it sound slightly deeper instead of the normal snotty sound of a child.
“Really? Lennox did good? Lennox wasn’t annoying?”
Johnny shakes his head, indicating that the child isn’t annoying.
“No, you weren’t. Not at all. Your questions might be odd, but they give you… personality. And I’m no God, Lennox, but I am a father. I can guarantee you that Death did not abandon you or your siblings.”
Lennox leans forward and falls into Johnny’s arms while the rest of us just look at each other confused. Did Johnny just adopt a gargoyle? I mean I do feel bad for the little guy, but according to Silas, they are tricksters. I’d rather believe the man who’s been here a long time than have faith that this creature that asks inane questions is an innocent child.
Johnny pats Lennox’s head as he tries to console him.
“If you are afraid, Lennox, then we are the best people to join. You see Wyatt, over there?”
Lennox nods quietly, his head shaking up and down in Johnny’s arms.
“He’s fearless. Truly. I’ve never seen him shiver or hesitate in front of any danger. If you want to learn to do the same, watch and learn from him.”
Lennox asks a quiet yet audible question while his face is in Johnny’s arms.
“Is he braver than a Brave?”
Johnny, without missing a beat, agrees.
“Yes.”
“A Chief?”
“Yes.”
“A… Supreme?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you?”
Only when Lennox pulls back and looks into the blind eyes of Johnny does the older man hesitate in his answer, but he gathers his resolve and nods.
“Yes.”
“Then Lennox will follow you all! I want to be brave! All my brothers and sisters that have died did so because they were afraid. If… if I can be fearless, then I will be… I will be immortal like Her Majesty!”
Johnny stands up and motions for Lennox to follow him. Silas is merely watching from far away with his hands on his hips. The man seems to not approve at all, but Johnny doesn’t care. He asks him a simple, yet complicated question.
“Silas.”
“Yeah.”
“Can Stoneclads gain Sigils?”
“Dunno. The cowards always run from a fight despite their tough bodies. Most die while running.”
“If you had to guess, would it be yes or no?”
Silas twists his head and thinks for a moment before nodding.
“I’d… say yeah. As far as I know, any creature can possess a Sigil, and Stoneclads should be no different even if they are altered by Her Majesty. The part of being too immature for a Sigil must have passed long ago as well.”
Johnny hears this answer and seemingly makes a choice. He looks to Otto, Blake, and me for validation.
“Next thing we find that has a Sigil, we will let Lennox kill and take it.”
I shrug in agreement as it doesn’t matter to me. Blake nods heavily as she seems to agree with his thoughts, but Otto shakes his head annoyed. He seems to find this all to be a waste of time.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can we get going now?”
Johnny waves his hands forwards and makes sure Lennox is moving with us. The Stoneclad is quite agile for how heavy he must be and he sticks very close to Johnny as we move.
“Yeah. Let’s get going. Lead the way, Silas.”
Silas nods his head and whistles with two fingers out into the open air for several seconds. Out of nowhere appears a cloud of night that coalesces rapidly into the form of a horse even under the bright light of Death's Lantern. Silas introduces the horse that has puffs of black smoke coming from its hooves and hair.
“This is Darkmane. All Braves are given a Ghost Horse when we are judged to be worthy. Well, most of us. There are only so many and only Her Majesty can make them. I have one because few Braves are willing to challenge me for her. They are used for quick movements and to save our energy when traveling.”
Silas swings his legs and hops atop his horse before having it walk ahead of us. The undead man waves us to follow.
“C’mon! We got a ways to go until we reach Chief Birdie, she's the one that will be able to help you find who your looking for. She is a kind lady who fights defensively in No Man's Land quite often, but I'm sure we can speak to her to figure something out.”
We all speed up a bit to follow him, and the pain in my legs comes back with a vengeance. I want to rest, but surely I can when we get to Edmund and Ma. And while we walk away, I see Silas take out a coin from his belt and flip it into the air as he whispers into it.
“Leaving. Return. Soon. Keep. Stable.”
Silas uses five short words to inform, I assume, his second-in-command back at the tents. From what I’ve seen already, the man’s abilities seem to be quite wide in variety. He can see the future through his coins and speak to people from a long distance. What else can he do? Surely he has a way to fight if he is a Brave. The ranks are based on strength, after all.
The walk lasts a little while in silence with Lennox trying to ask people random questions here or there, the Stoneclad seems to be opening up and becoming more social, but only Johnny and Blake really speak with him.
I’m too focused on walking on my own. Every step hurts, and I want to ask Silas if I can ride on Darkmane. I don’t want to be rude, though, so I just walk and push through the pain. I just need to not fight, surely I can handle some walking, right? Rest will be soon.
Otto, however, keeps asking Silas questions about Undeath. I assume he wants to learn more about how it works. The only time I truly pay attention, however, is when he asks if people can be brought back to life.
“Silas, can you actually come with us to the surface? And can other people come back to life?”
Silas looks down at Otto walking beside his Ghost Horse and laughs.
“I’m not sure, to be honest. There are stories of people going back up, but they are incredibly rare and all of them involve either Her Majesty or the Devil themselves letting them leave. The common thought is that only they can let an undead come back to life.”
Silas then looks into the far distance where vague white lights exist.
“However, I have a theory of my own. Only the dead can pass through the Gate Of Death into here, and only the living can go back the same way. Undeath is a mixture of the two, so we can neither go in nor out, we are eternally stuck where we are given the gift. There might be other locations that we can sneak our way up, but they are likely deep inside the Steppes and lost to time.”
Silas takes a short pause to thumb a coin in his hand.
“And I know I’m being a bit long-winded, but it’s important for some background. I think that if I can temporarily shift my state of life to be living as only the living can go up and the dead down, I can make it through that gate without being killed.”
Otto asks another question. I am even curious as to the answer to this one.
“How would one do that? Can anyone do it?”
Silas shrugs, he doesn't seem to be sure either. He just seems to be willing to gamble another life of his, though, he does have quite the strategy.
“I have a way to possibly do it, I have an Absolution, the Wishful Absolution. If I expunge gold, I can make a wish, and depending on the amount, the wish can be large or small. I’ve used it before to great effect, only every time I use it I am basically neutered as all my skills rely on coins, so it is normally a last resort. I figure with enough money I could make my heart beat once more even if it's only for a few minutes, there are more restrictions, but I won't speak of them. As for other people, I have no clue. Perhaps a powerful enough Sexton could make it through by emulating Her Majesty’s powers or maybe even take others with them while there is a chance a powerful enough Abbot could simulate life using their Vigor, but I am unsure as no Supreme has ever been from the two Sigils.”
The fact he has an Absolution and is so willing to admit it surprises us all. Most people seem to want to hide the ace, and that includes me. I wish I had to use it less than I normally do like Johnny, but I’m almost always outmatched, and Strugglers Gasp is the only thing that narrows the gap, even if only for a single breath.
Silas only notices our surprise when Otto mentions it.
“You seem really open about your Absolution. Do you trust us that much, or is it something else?”
The undead lifts his head up in realization as he looks across our group.
“Oh! I forgot, sorry. It’s been a while since I last walked beneath the sun, and I sometimes forget what it’s like up there. Absolutions are far, far more common down here than up there. Ether resistance comes much slower to those with the Gift, and we fight much more often which leads to many near-death or actual death situations, of which we do die quite often and are given a few extra chances to absolve ourselves. Because of those conflicting pressures, Absolutions shine much more.”
Silas puts his finger on his chin as he thinks for a moment.
“I’d say… one in ten have one down here if they’ve survived their first year. Past ten years, probably one in five. Twenty-five, one in three. Fifty, one in two, and if they’ve lived past a hundred, it’s basically guaranteed they have one if not two.”
The revelation about how much more common Absolutions are down here is startling. The highly dangerous and unique abilities will be all over the place down here because the people at Silas’s rank will have a one in three or maybe even one in two chance to have an Absolution.
My eyes glance to Johnny as I realize we won’t be all that special down here besides for the fact we are alive, which in itself is probably a disadvantage. All the benefits of being undead are starting to make being alive look pointless if Death just gives all this power out.
I look up at Silas on his ghostly horse as I inquire a bit more into what it’s like to be an undead as we walk toward the edge of No Man’s Land.
“Sounds like being undead is pretty great, Silas. Why do you want to leave so badly?”
The undead man scoffs as he turns to look at me. I can see the look of disgust on his face.
“You’re but a boy, lad. You have no idea what it’s like to be down here. You spend just about every day fighting until you literally die and have your soul shattered. Sure we get breaks, but they go by fast. There is no sleep, for none of us ever shut our eyes or blink. What you saw in those fields was stasis, a meager replacement. There is no food to eat, you are sustained entirely by Ether. Even the carnal desires of man are gone, I lust for nothing anymore. All your memories of what used to be are shattered, fragmented, and thrown around after each death, leaving you to pick up the pieces of who you were. Not to mention the constant nagging of those above to work harder, fight better, and improve more amongst this. Skills are hard to improve as most of our Ether is spent keeping our bodies intact.”
Silas speaks to me directly as his horse slows down just a bit at his want.
“The Gift of Undeath is that, a gift, but everything, especially immortality has a price. When I die, I would like my soul to be at peace and my mind to be intact, not ripped to shred by the Ether of demons or whatever else takes us when we are gone for good. I don’t believe that is too much to ask for. I’ve done my part. I can’t do it anymore. I just… can’t. I just want to feel the sun again. Run my hands along a river. Drink liquor and have one last hunt for a deer or bear, something simple y'know? Anything just to remember what my family used to look like… or what my wife’s name was… anything.”
His words make me go silent at imagining each of the things he said. There are benefits to being undead, but oh my, the negatives. They are catastrophic. Escaping the Underworld, even for just a little bit like Silas wants sounds like the obvious thing to do.
In my silence of rumination, though, I am once more awakened to the pain in my body. The call for rest. The limit of my chains that pull onto me. That was my answer for the first Metaphor, right? That what restrains us is our own bodies.
My mind can go much further, and so can my Ether. But it is always the body that holds me back. It was less so of an issue when I had an artifact that was willing to supplement that fragility, but without it, I truly feel it.
Each step sends a jolt of pain straight to my brain alongside a wave of exhaustion. I need to rest, Johnny has made that painfully clear, but at the same time, this could be an opportunity. One to Prove myself so that I can advance further. A Proof requires one to either prove your answer to a Metaphor by acting it out, or by breaking through the restrictions you placed upon yourself with an answer.
If I can do the latter here with my first answer, then I can advance whenever! And since the demons down here are likely to have rare Sigils, they might have a Philosopher for me to take or something equally interesting.
But there is a glaring problem. I need to overcome my physical limits first. The rest of the group is beginning to outpace me, and Dakota, who I’ve given up on carrying at this point, keeps turning back to check on me.
I wave the little guy off as I force myself forward. My feet drag as my knees no longer have the energy to raise them. The bruises, welts, and cuts prevent the muscles from working correctly, but I marshal Ironheart to force things in motion regardless.
My very will imbued with Ether gives my body the momentum to go further than it has any right to. But even then, I don’t feel anything but pain. The telltale sign that the Hunter Manual spoke of about Proofs, is missing. The internal click that’s said to go alongside a settling of your body is nowhere to be seen. I believe it is the same as the click when I first accomplished an Absolution. So, I trudge forward, seeking that foreign yet familiar feeling of when I gained my Absolution.
The walk only continues to grow more difficult, and my friends turn around several times to check on me, but I wave them off. I don’t want help. I need to get better. Stronger. Then I won’t have to worry about this.
But Johnny is having none of that. He is paying close attention to me ever since he yelled at me earlier.
He stomps over to me the instant he notices and smacks me right upside the head. I feel my head shake and my vision tremble from the blind man’s strike.
“How stubborn are you!? Do you not know how to ask for help!? We have someone with plenty of room on his horse that can carry you, not to mention anyone one of us would be willing to carry you! When I said to take care of yourself, I was not just talking about fighting! I swear, Wyatt, you are going to get yourself killed before we even leave this place…”
We all follow Silas out the door of his stone house. Nowhere to be seen is Cleveland, but outside sits Lennox in its weird gargoyle-like state. The child-turned-statue moves over to Silas like a lost puppy.
Silas tries to shoo Lennox away when he gets close, and the face on the gargoyle stabs at my heart as he does so.
“Get! You’re not wanted ‘round here, Stoneclad. All you do is steal, play tricks, and mess around. That’s why Her Majesty didn’t make any more of you.”
Liquid stone tears fall from Lennox’s heart as the Stoneclad looks at the coarse ground. He doesn’t look at Silas, but I can hear him sputter out a defense.
“Th-th-that’s not true! Lennox tries his best! It’s… just that… Lennox and his brothers and his sisters are scared. And! And.. Her Majesty loves us all! She’s just hurt from the nasty mother! That’s why she hasn’t made more of us!”
Silas just shakes his head and walks away from Lennox. He waves his hand at us, dismissing the gargoyle.
“Deal with him however you’d like. Few of us are willing to endure their nonsense. Stoneclads might have been children once, but enough time has passed that they should be mature. Yet all they are is tricksters.”
Johnny ignores Silas' words and walks over to Lennox first, kneeling in front of the gargoyle. The blind man is unwilling to leave a child behind so easily. Johnny speaks softly to Lennox while looking him in the eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay. I believe that you try your best. You’ve been very helpful so far. We wouldn’t have made it here without you, y’know?”
Lennox looks up at Johnny, the expression of a child who has never had any mentor is obvious. The rocky tears affect the Stoneclad’s voice by making it sound slightly deeper instead of the normal snotty sound of a child.
“Really? Lennox did good? Lennox wasn’t annoying?”
Johnny shakes his head, indicating that the child isn’t annoying.
“No, you weren’t. Not at all. Your questions might be odd, but they give you… personality. And I’m no God, Lennox, but I am a father. I can guarantee you that Death did not abandon you or your siblings.”
Lennox leans forward and falls into Johnny’s arms while the rest of us just look at each other confused. Did Johnny just adopt a gargoyle? I mean I do feel bad for the little guy, but according to Silas, they are tricksters. I’d rather believe the man who’s been here a long time than have faith that this creature that asks inane questions is an innocent child.
Johnny pats Lennox’s head as he tries to console him.
“If you are afraid, Lennox, then we are the best people to join. You see Wyatt, over there?”
Lennox nods quietly, his head shaking up and down in Johnny’s arms.
“He’s fearless. Truly. I’ve never seen him shiver or hesitate in front of any danger. If you want to learn to do the same, watch and learn from him.”
Lennox asks a quiet yet audible question while his face is in Johnny’s arms.
“Is he braver than a Brave?”
Johnny, without missing a beat, agrees.
“Yes.”
“A Chief?”
“Yes.”
“A… Supreme?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you?”
Only when Lennox pulls back and looks into the blind eyes of Johnny does the older man hesitate in his answer, but he gathers his resolve and nods.
“Yes.”
“Then Lennox will follow you all! I want to be brave! All my brothers and sisters that have died did so because they were afraid. If… if I can be fearless, then I will be… I will be immortal like Her Majesty!”
Johnny stands up and motions for Lennox to follow him. Silas is merely watching from far away with his hands on his hips. The man seems to not approve at all, but Johnny doesn’t care. He asks him a simple, yet complicated question.
“Silas.”
“Yeah.”
“Can Stoneclads gain Sigils?”
“Dunno. The cowards always run from a fight despite their tough bodies. Most die while running.”
“If you had to guess, would it be yes or no?”
Silas twists his head and thinks for a moment before nodding.
“I’d… say yeah. As far as I know, any creature can possess a Sigil, and Stoneclads should be no different even if they are altered by Her Majesty. The part of being too immature for a Sigil must have passed long ago as well.”
Johnny hears this answer and seemingly makes a choice. He looks to Otto, Blake, and me for validation.
“Next thing we find that has a Sigil, we will let Lennox kill and take it.”
I shrug in agreement as it doesn’t matter to me. Blake nods heavily as she seems to agree with his thoughts, but Otto shakes his head annoyed. He seems to find this all to be a waste of time.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can we get going now?”
Johnny waves his hands forwards and makes sure Lennox is moving with us. The Stoneclad is quite agile for how heavy he must be and he sticks very close to Johnny as we move.
“Yeah. Let’s get going. Lead the way, Silas.”
Silas nods his head and whistles with two fingers out into the open air for several seconds. Out of nowhere appears a cloud of night that coalesces rapidly into the form of a horse even under the bright light of Death's Lantern. Silas introduces the horse that has puffs of black smoke coming from its hooves and hair.
“This is Darkmane. All Braves are given a Ghost Horse when we are judged to be worthy. Well, most of us. There are only so many and only Her Majesty can make them. I have one because few Braves are willing to challenge me for her. They are used for quick movements and to save our energy when traveling.”
Silas swings his legs and hops atop his horse before having it walk ahead of us. The undead man waves us to follow.
“C’mon! We got a ways to go until we reach Chief Birdie, she's the one that will be able to help you find who your looking for. She is a kind lady who fights defensively in No Man's Land quite often, but I'm sure we can speak to her to figure something out.”
We all speed up a bit to follow him, and the pain in my legs comes back with a vengeance. I want to rest, but surely I can when we get to Edmund and Ma. And while we walk away, I see Silas take out a coin from his belt and flip it into the air as he whispers into it.
“Leaving. Return. Soon. Keep. Stable.”
Silas uses five short words to inform, I assume, his second-in-command back at the tents. From what I’ve seen already, the man’s abilities seem to be quite wide in variety. He can see the future through his coins and speak to people from a long distance. What else can he do? Surely he has a way to fight if he is a Brave. The ranks are based on strength, after all.
The walk lasts a little while in silence with Lennox trying to ask people random questions here or there, the Stoneclad seems to be opening up and becoming more social, but only Johnny and Blake really speak with him.
I’m too focused on walking on my own. Every step hurts, and I want to ask Silas if I can ride on Darkmane. I don’t want to be rude, though, so I just walk and push through the pain. I just need to not fight, surely I can handle some walking, right? Rest will be soon.
Otto, however, keeps asking Silas questions about Undeath. I assume he wants to learn more about how it works. The only time I truly pay attention, however, is when he asks if people can be brought back to life.
“Silas, can you actually come with us to the surface? And can other people come back to life?”
Silas looks down at Otto walking beside his Ghost Horse and laughs.
“I’m not sure, to be honest. There are stories of people going back up, but they are incredibly rare and all of them involve either Her Majesty or the Devil themselves letting them leave. The common thought is that only they can let an undead come back to life.”
Silas then looks into the far distance where vague white lights exist.
“However, I have a theory of my own. Only the dead can pass through the Gate Of Death into here, and only the living can go back the same way. Undeath is a mixture of the two, so we can neither go in nor out, we are eternally stuck where we are given the gift. There might be other locations that we can sneak our way up, but they are likely deep inside the Steppes and lost to time.”
Silas takes a short pause to thumb a coin in his hand.
“And I know I’m being a bit long-winded, but it’s important for some background. I think that if I can temporarily shift my state of life to be living as only the living can go up and the dead down, I can make it through that gate without being killed.”
Otto asks another question. I am even curious as to the answer to this one.
“How would one do that? Can anyone do it?”
Silas shrugs, he doesn't seem to be sure either. He just seems to be willing to gamble another life of his, though, he does have quite the strategy.
“I have a way to possibly do it, I have an Absolution, the Wishful Absolution. If I expunge gold, I can make a wish, and depending on the amount, the wish can be large or small. I’ve used it before to great effect, only every time I use it I am basically neutered as all my skills rely on coins, so it is normally a last resort. I figure with enough money I could make my heart beat once more even if it's only for a few minutes, there are more restrictions, but I won't speak of them. As for other people, I have no clue. Perhaps a powerful enough Sexton could make it through by emulating Her Majesty’s powers or maybe even take others with them while there is a chance a powerful enough Abbot could simulate life using their Vigor, but I am unsure as no Supreme has ever been from the two Sigils.”
The fact he has an Absolution and is so willing to admit it surprises us all. Most people seem to want to hide the ace, and that includes me. I wish I had to use it less than I normally do like Johnny, but I’m almost always outmatched, and Strugglers Gasp is the only thing that narrows the gap, even if only for a single breath.
Silas only notices our surprise when Otto mentions it.
“You seem really open about your Absolution. Do you trust us that much, or is it something else?”
The undead lifts his head up in realization as he looks across our group.
“Oh! I forgot, sorry. It’s been a while since I last walked beneath the sun, and I sometimes forget what it’s like up there. Absolutions are far, far more common down here than up there. Ether resistance comes much slower to those with the Gift, and we fight much more often which leads to many near-death or actual death situations, of which we do die quite often and are given a few extra chances to absolve ourselves. Because of those conflicting pressures, Absolutions shine much more.”
Silas puts his finger on his chin as he thinks for a moment.
“I’d say… one in ten have one down here if they’ve survived their first year. Past ten years, probably one in five. Twenty-five, one in three. Fifty, one in two, and if they’ve lived past a hundred, it’s basically guaranteed they have one if not two.”
The revelation about how much more common Absolutions are down here is startling. The highly dangerous and unique abilities will be all over the place down here because the people at Silas’s rank will have a one in three or maybe even one in two chance to have an Absolution.
My eyes glance to Johnny as I realize we won’t be all that special down here besides for the fact we are alive, which in itself is probably a disadvantage. All the benefits of being undead are starting to make being alive look pointless if Death just gives all this power out.
I look up at Silas on his ghostly horse as I inquire a bit more into what it’s like to be an undead as we walk toward the edge of No Man’s Land.
“Sounds like being undead is pretty great, Silas. Why do you want to leave so badly?”
The undead man scoffs as he turns to look at me. I can see the look of disgust on his face.
“You’re but a boy, lad. You have no idea what it’s like to be down here. You spend just about every day fighting until you literally die and have your soul shattered. Sure we get breaks, but they go by fast. There is no sleep, for none of us ever shut our eyes or blink. What you saw in those fields was stasis, a meager replacement. There is no food to eat, you are sustained entirely by Ether. Even the carnal desires of man are gone, I lust for nothing anymore. All your memories of what used to be are shattered, fragmented, and thrown around after each death, leaving you to pick up the pieces of who you were. Not to mention the constant nagging of those above to work harder, fight better, and improve more amongst this. Skills are hard to improve as most of our Ether is spent keeping our bodies intact.”
Silas speaks to me directly as his horse slows down just a bit at his want.
“The Gift of Undeath is that, a gift, but everything, especially immortality has a price. When I die, I would like my soul to be at peace and my mind to be intact, not ripped to shred by the Ether of demons or whatever else takes us when we are gone for good. I don’t believe that is too much to ask for. I’ve done my part. I can’t do it anymore. I just… can’t. I just want to feel the sun again. Run my hands along a river. Drink liquor and have one last hunt for a deer or bear, something simple y'know? Anything just to remember what my family used to look like… or what my wife’s name was… anything.”
His words make me go silent at imagining each of the things he said. There are benefits to being undead, but oh my, the negatives. They are catastrophic. Escaping the Underworld, even for just a little bit like Silas wants sounds like the obvious thing to do.
In my silence of rumination, though, I am once more awakened to the pain in my body. The call for rest. The limit of my chains that pull onto me. That was my answer for the first Metaphor, right? That what restrains us is our own bodies.
My mind can go much further, and so can my Ether. But it is always the body that holds me back. It was less so of an issue when I had an artifact that was willing to supplement that fragility, but without it, I truly feel it.
Each step sends a jolt of pain straight to my brain alongside a wave of exhaustion. I need to rest, Johnny has made that painfully clear, but at the same time, this could be an opportunity. One to Prove myself so that I can advance further. A Proof requires one to either prove your answer to a Metaphor by acting it out, or by breaking through the restrictions you placed upon yourself with an answer.
If I can do the latter here with my first answer, then I can advance whenever! And since the demons down here are likely to have rare Sigils, they might have a Philosopher for me to take or something equally interesting.
But there is a glaring problem. I need to overcome my physical limits first. The rest of the group is beginning to outpace me, and Dakota, who I’ve given up on carrying at this point, keeps turning back to check on me.
I wave the little guy off as I force myself forward. My feet drag as my knees no longer have the energy to raise them. The bruises, welts, and cuts prevent the muscles from working correctly, but I marshal Ironheart to force things in motion regardless.
My very will imbued with Ether gives my body the momentum to go further than it has any right to. But even then, I don’t feel anything but pain. The telltale sign that the Hunter Manual spoke of about Proofs, is missing. The internal click that’s said to go alongside a settling of your body is nowhere to be seen. I believe it is the same as the click when I first accomplished an Absolution. So, I trudge forward, seeking that foreign yet familiar feeling of when I gained my Absolution.
The walk only continues to grow more difficult, and my friends turn around several times to check on me, but I wave them off. I don’t want help. I need to get better. Stronger. Then I won’t have to worry about this.
But Johnny is having none of that. He is paying close attention to me ever since he yelled at me earlier.
He stomps over to me the instant he notices and smacks me right upside the head. I feel my head shake and my vision tremble from the blind man’s strike.
“How stubborn are you!? Do you not know how to ask for help!? We have someone with plenty of room on his horse that can carry you, not to mention anyone one of us would be willing to carry you! When I said to take care of yourself, I was not just talking about fighting! I swear, Wyatt, you are going to get yourself killed before we even leave this place…”
