My pupils finish trailing the text left behind on the first two pages as I flip through the rest of the journal, hoping that there is any more endowed by my father. The next page is blank, and so is the one after that. I fast flick through the rest, but nothing else exists on the pages, even as I turn the final page.
I can't help but have my shoulders sag in disappointment. This is the first time I have seen something directly from my father, and he treats me like a weapon, a tool, something to be used and cultivated. It hurts that he won't even say he cares or that he is sorry, but I suppose that is par the course. Killian Graves is an unfeeling man, built to kill. I can't truly expect him to care for me, regardless of how disappointing it is. But... despite that, my hand wanders to the frame of the Colt on the table.
It seems that I have many more opponents in the future, and like me, they were chosen for Godhood. But unlike them, I do not have the training, the experience, or the skills given to me by a mighty figure.
All I have is a confidence granted by my father and a gun he left behind that is out of bullets.
My fist clenches onto the edge of the table, not quite making it all the way to Lily as I can't help but grow furious. He expects me to do all this? To go beyond those handpicked for greatness and bestowed everything possible? And even if some of those people won't be enemies, I know many of them will, especially those that the Estates, Eli, and the other races are raising.
I...
At least I won't be alone.
I grip the handle of Lily, feeling the chilly sensation of her steel as I spin the empty cylinder. She will be here with me as long as I keep anyone from taking her like Alexos.
Then, I glance at my hand, the Bloody Palm, the artifact silent in this dreamscape. It is the one thing that I don't think anyone who ever know of me anticipated.
Perhaps... I never was alone, though. Even while Lily was taken, my company might have been insane, overbearing, and bloodthirsty, but I would be dead without it. A hundred times over.
I then dismantle the gun, and the moment I remove the cylinder, Lily reappears beside me with a smile. I return the gesture as I point at the Colt and journal on the table.
"Killian left behind notes for how to make you stronger, but we need to kill four Angels to do so. So, I don't know how long that will take."
The spirit of the weapon that resembles a deadly little girl stretches a smile to her ears as she happily giggles.
"Yes! So, that means you'll feed me?! So far, everything has been tasty but unfilling."
Her words are disturbing, but I nod. She has only killed relatively weak beings compared to Angels, with Dominus being the strongest so far, but somehow the Manipulator survives even with Lily devouring his soul. Perhaps another Motherbound took over his body? I don't know how that all works.
We'll have to figure it out.
And in the meantime, I think I should finally talk with Lily to figure out what she can do besides shooting. So, I motion to a set of rickety chairs as I offer them to her, internally confused about why Killian would have two if he was alone.
"Hey, wanna grab a seat? I have a few questions regarding your abilities."
The little girl barely responds to me with more than a nod. Then, Lily shuffles to the chair as she sits in it, the object barely reacting to her poundage. I follow, lowering my weight onto the other chair as the thing creaks dangerously but holds.
And once sitting, I try to learn more about her. I know how she's made. Who made her. Why she was made. When she was made and where. But not what she can do. Who she is. So many other things. She is living, right? So many questions, and I begin with the first.
"Lily, what can you do? Like what can you accomplish with the Ether you have? What skills?"
Lily, her feet not touching the ground from her seat, kicks her legs as she replies with a bubble in her voice.
"Well... two main things. The first is Life Siphon, which Killian named. It takes the user's life, combines it with my Ether, and uses it to form a bullet that then siphons the target's life to heal the user. Oh, and I can make a bullet to replace your life in the barrel with enough time. That's more of an offshoot of the skill than a new one, though."
She pauses for a moment as she taps her chin, thinking deeply.
"I can also manipulate souls. It's mostly just moving them around here or there and devouring them when they die nearby to give me life, or Vigor, as some call it. If enough creatures die around me, I could make a bullet with little effort. That's what Killian did when he wanted to use me, or he'd sacrifice a limb by cordoning off what I could take and get a new one later."
Lily stops again as I open my mouth, priming a question for her about my father. He's always such an enigma.
"About that, how could my father do that? Would he regrow a limb?"
She shakes her head to question, giving me a short answer.
"No. What I take can never be restored. It goes soul-deep. He would make a new limb by taking it from an enemy."
Oh... that is interesting. I guess I now know what he meant by Lily being his only creation not involving flesh or bone. Another thought arises as I think of something regarding her skills. She seems limited in what she can do, either because of her form or being, but surely, she can learn more. Right?
"Lily, do you think you could do other things with that Soul-Devouring? If I were to kill something, could you divert the energy to me? Only if I needed it, of course."
Lily twists her head again, the big round eyes of crimson blinking rapidly for a moment before staring at me again.
"Yeah. I think so. I never tried. Next time it happens, I'll do it! I don't mind sharing those I don't kill, for they aren't all that tasty."
I heave a sigh of relief as Lily finally comes up with something she can do that won't have a massive potential of hurting me. And yet, another idea comes to mind, one that leads to so many possibilities.
"Are you alive, Lily?"
She purses her lips at my thought before shaking her head with a retort, her legs kicking out as she talks.
"Dunno. What does it mean to be alive? I can think, move things, and kill, but I can't breathe or move myself. Up to you."
Nodding at her response, I propose another idea to her.
"Do you think you could use general skills, things not given to you by your Sigils?"
Again, she moves her lip, this time biting it as she seems unsure. And as she thinks, my mind explodes with possibilities. If she can use general skills... then... so much can be done. Sure, I'll have to teach her, but everything will change once she learns how to even do simple things.
Not only will I have the potential to use Ether, but so does the Bloody Palm. If we are combined with Lily... A Wendigo is feared, revered, and hid from due to the ability to have two beings' Sigils merged into one. This makes them unpredictable, rugged, and enduring. What would you call something with three? Is it still a Wendigo?
Who knows.
And as I conclude my reflections, Lilly delivers an answer with her eyes avoiding mine.
"I don't know. I've only ever moved my Ether in ways that make sense. To go against that and do my own thing... it's... scary."
I can't help but laugh, but I quickly stamp on it as she seems hurt by my outburst. Immediately I try to fix it by explaining myself.
"You? Scared? Lily, come on. You are a deadly weapon forged from the origin of life and death. To move Ether? You were born with that ability. You were born of Ether, your mind coming from the Sigil and Ether density, no? How can you be scared of what you are?"
Lily rotates her head to look back at me as her face brightens, my words having an effect. I continue, endeavoring to explain to her the most straightforward skill possible, Physical Strengthening.
"Here. Why don't you try a skill right now? Try Physical Strengthening; all you have to do is flow Ether throughout a part of your frame in relatively even amounts. It should strengthen you. Try to do it on your barrel, okay?"
She nods, closing her eyes to try and do so. But as she attempts to control her Ether, I hear a voice, one distant yet absolutely present. And as I focus on it, my surroundings change, my mind pulled from Lily as I see her open her eyes in a panic before vanishing.
And as I search around, trying to flow my Ether, I find myself immersed in a dream, surrounded by impenetrable darkness. In this abyss, a voice reverberates, beckoning to me with an urgency that resonates deep within my soul. It calls out to me, imploring for my aid, its tone both desperate and familiar.
I strain my senses, trying to catch a glimpse of the origin of this ethereal voice. But the darkness persists, shrouding the speaker in mystery, concealing their form from my searching gaze. Yet, there is an undeniable connection, a bond that transcends the boundaries of this dream. And a moment later, a wooden door, cracked and strained, forms before my eyes in the dark. I open the door without anywhere else to go, and sensing whatever is calling me is friendly.
My senses heighten as I enter a vast chamber that stretches far beyond the reach of my vision. The air carries a peculiar stillness, tinged with a subtle aura of pride and discipline. Soft, formless light filters through unseen sources, casting a gentle glow upon the table that extends just as far as the chamber.
As I see the table, an idea is provoked within me. The High Table. What else could it be? And who has the capability to affect my dreams?
Abraham.
He's doing this. Somehow. Is he using his Absolution on me? How? I thought he could only use it on those he's deeply connected to, like how he's afraid of all the Councilmembers, so much so that he has nightmares of them every night. Do I terrify him? Or is there a different connection?
I have no answer to my question as I take in the vastness of this room and its emptiness.
The room is a realm of surreal emptiness devoid of life and any discernible purpose. Its smooth and featureless walls seem to merge seamlessly with the boundless expanse of the space.
The floor beneath my feet is an enigmatic tapestry, a vast expanse of polished ice from the Northern Wastes that reflects the dim illumination with a glossy sheen. Each step I take resonates, the sound swallowed by the vastness of the chamber, leaving only a faint echo that ultimately dissipates against the walls. But without a sign of Abraham, I continue, searching for a way out.
And as I explore further, my eyes are drawn to the intricate patterns etched into the walls, the divots in the wood replaced with ice, a harmony of timber and frigidness. They appear like ancient glyphs, their origin and meaning lost to the passage of time. The designs twist and turn, forming an intricate dance of lines and curves that have no meaning in my vision.
I strain to listen for any sound, any indication of life, but the room remains resolutely silent, barring my echoing feet. Moving further, I notice something hidden on the side of the wall. The construct catches my eye; I'm almost sure it was not there a second ago.
Curious, I shamble over to it, and I quickly notice it is a wooden door. It is the same one I saw earlier, covered in cracks and damage that make it seem like it is about to collapse any minute.
Placing my hand upon the bar of steel that acts as a handle, I pull it open, revealing a long alley of darkness. The hallway stretches before me, its darkness swallowing any trace of light that dares to venture within. The air grows heavy, laden with a palpable sense of foreboding. But along with that warning in the back of my mind is the whisper, returning to call me forward despite not having discernable words.
I traverse the gloomy corridor, and haunting echoes of sobs reach my ears, mingling with the eerie chants that reverberate through the closed walls around me. The foreign and unknown words carry a sinister weight, though I recognize the language. It comes from the Nahullo. I think it's Enlish that they use.
Step by step, as my surety of the cause of this being Abraham expands, I draw closer to the closed door at the end of the hallway. With each stride, the door looms larger, its form just as cracked and dilapidated as the one from before. My hand trembles from a vibration that strikes the whole hallway as I extend it toward the handle.
A dim light spills forth as the door creaks open, casting elongated shadows upon the chamber within. And within the room are many tall figures, most cloaked in hoods or metal armor. Five of which are recognizable. Cirn, Mislo, Malew, Niyte, and Abraham's father, the Viceroy.
I can barely understand what I see as I notice yet another body.
Among the two dozen or so total figures kneels another person trembling, a human woman that begs for life. She doesn't notice my entrance but the entrance of another, a bloodied Abraham tripping through a door beside me.
"Ahbram! Please! Save us!"
The half-blooded Nahullo stands beside me, sighing.
"Come, Wyatt. You were the only one I could call. It appears as those in slumber are much easier to summon. I can only call waking Councilmen, but sleeping people I know aren't too hard."
What? What the fuck is happening? I ignore Abraham's demand and make one of my own.
"Where the fuck are we? What's happening?"
Abraham sighs again, his hands pulling the pale skin on his face.
"Fine. I have time to explain. Override gives me some spare time in here, anyway. I used my Absolution skill to call you, an evolved form of Nightmare that summons the figure from my mind. It seems rules I do not yet understand exist for who I can conjure. Before, I thought it was merely a connection thing. Apparently, it is not, as when I reached for Bonfire, I felt you much more strongly. Perhaps... if the connection is not strong enough, dreaming can compensate for the lacking relationship."
His words only make partial sense to me as I flail my arms out to our surroundings, attempting to draw his attention to the literal sacrifice about to happen before us.
"And what about this!? This whole thing!?"
Abraham nods as his mouth opens, understanding hitting him square in the jaw. I can't believe he doesn't seem to react all that much to this madness. What the fuck?
"Oh! You mean this room. This is the origin of my Nightmares, where the skill draws from. My mother and unborn sister were sacrificed years ago in a ceremony for the Pale Cavity. Each of the Nightmares I conjure comes from this. Though I can also conjure Bonfire, he made me promise never to do it."
I turn from the scene, unwilling to watch it, as while it is merely a memory, the sights and sounds are gruesome to all hell. I raise my lips in disgust as I propose another critical question.
"Okay, I suppose that all makes sense, but why? Why are you conjuring me?"
Abraham nods as Ether streams between us, his mind connecting to mine with a memory that burns itself to my focus.
The figure in the memory, certainly Abraham, stands at the edge of a swampy and wet section of land, hidden in the shadows, watching a deadly dance unfold. The sun's piercing glow casts a warmth, illuminating the figures locked in a fierce struggle.
Amid the tangled marshes, a gunslinger, Johnny, and a moving shadow, Virgil, face off against a formidable adversary—a Rougarou. The creature's monstrous form, humanoid yet wolf-like, looms over them with primal strength. Forced to only watch this memory, I take it all I can, preparing myself for what is likely to be an enemy.
The gunslinger, his fingers wrapped around the grip of his trusty revolver, unleashes a barrage of bullets with lightning speed. Each shot finds its mark, tearing through the creature's hide with a resounding impact. Every bullet leaves massive wounds that heal gradually with lingering scars, a far cry from the rapid regeneration associated with the creatures.The slowed healing must be from Fate Sealer, but the Rougarou fights on, fueled by its feral instincts, as it roars with desperation.
Besides Johnny, Virgil moves with intangible grace, their body a blur of swift and deadly strikes. Shadows envelop their form, concealing their every movement as they navigate the treacherous terrain, sinking below and into obstacles, Flickering through it all.
And at crucial moments, where the Rougarou gets too close, Abraham conjures a Nightmare to meet the creature in a contest of strength or speed, allowing Johnny and Abraham to fight with calm.
The battle unfolds in a flurry of action and adrenaline, the air thick with tension and the scent of impending danger. The Rougarou retaliates with savage swipes of its claws and gnashing of its razor-sharp teeth. The mud quakes beneath its weight, amplifying the intensity of the clash.
But the vision abruptly cuts off just as the tide seems to turn. Time freezes, leaving me suspended in uncertainty. I am left with a vivid image of Virgil being sent hurtling into a moss-covered wall of wood, the impact echoing through the bayou as another Rougarou emerges from the marsh.
My heart sinks as Virgil's fate is unknown, and I immediately lose interest in this place. We need to help him. And thankfully, Abraham sees my earnestness instantly.
"See? It's urgent. We could handle it until a second came up, and Virgil got hit. I'm bringing you to be safe. The good thing is only a second has passed since that, for I wanted to holler for backup. Overdrive lets these minutes pass as fractions of that outside my mind, so whenever you're ready, we can go."
Without waiting a moment, I nod to him.
"Now. I'm good now."
My pupils finish trailing the text left behind on the first two pages as I flip through the rest of the journal, hoping that there is any more endowed by my father. The next page is blank, and so is the one after that. I fast flick through the rest, but nothing else exists on the pages, even as I turn the final page.
I can't help but have my shoulders sag in disappointment. This is the first time I have seen something directly from my father, and he treats me like a weapon, a tool, something to be used and cultivated. It hurts that he won't even say he cares or that he is sorry, but I suppose that is par the course. Killian Graves is an unfeeling man, built to kill. I can't truly expect him to care for me, regardless of how disappointing it is. But... despite that, my hand wanders to the frame of the Colt on the table.
It seems that I have many more opponents in the future, and like me, they were chosen for Godhood. But unlike them, I do not have the training, the experience, or the skills given to me by a mighty figure.
All I have is a confidence granted by my father and a gun he left behind that is out of bullets.
My fist clenches onto the edge of the table, not quite making it all the way to Lily as I can't help but grow furious. He expects me to do all this? To go beyond those handpicked for greatness and bestowed everything possible? And even if some of those people won't be enemies, I know many of them will, especially those that the Estates, Eli, and the other races are raising.
I...
At least I won't be alone.
I grip the handle of Lily, feeling the chilly sensation of her steel as I spin the empty cylinder. She will be here with me as long as I keep anyone from taking her like Alexos.
Then, I glance at my hand, the Bloody Palm, the artifact silent in this dreamscape. It is the one thing that I don't think anyone who ever know of me anticipated.
Perhaps... I never was alone, though. Even while Lily was taken, my company might have been insane, overbearing, and bloodthirsty, but I would be dead without it. A hundred times over.
I then dismantle the gun, and the moment I remove the cylinder, Lily reappears beside me with a smile. I return the gesture as I point at the Colt and journal on the table.
"Killian left behind notes for how to make you stronger, but we need to kill four Angels to do so. So, I don't know how long that will take."
The spirit of the weapon that resembles a deadly little girl stretches a smile to her ears as she happily giggles.
"Yes! So, that means you'll feed me?! So far, everything has been tasty but unfilling."
Her words are disturbing, but I nod. She has only killed relatively weak beings compared to Angels, with Dominus being the strongest so far, but somehow the Manipulator survives even with Lily devouring his soul. Perhaps another Motherbound took over his body? I don't know how that all works.
We'll have to figure it out.
And in the meantime, I think I should finally talk with Lily to figure out what she can do besides shooting. So, I motion to a set of rickety chairs as I offer them to her, internally confused about why Killian would have two if he was alone.
"Hey, wanna grab a seat? I have a few questions regarding your abilities."
The little girl barely responds to me with more than a nod. Then, Lily shuffles to the chair as she sits in it, the object barely reacting to her poundage. I follow, lowering my weight onto the other chair as the thing creaks dangerously but holds.
And once sitting, I try to learn more about her. I know how she's made. Who made her. Why she was made. When she was made and where. But not what she can do. Who she is. So many other things. She is living, right? So many questions, and I begin with the first.
"Lily, what can you do? Like what can you accomplish with the Ether you have? What skills?"
Lily, her feet not touching the ground from her seat, kicks her legs as she replies with a bubble in her voice.
"Well... two main things. The first is Life Siphon, which Killian named. It takes the user's life, combines it with my Ether, and uses it to form a bullet that then siphons the target's life to heal the user. Oh, and I can make a bullet to replace your life in the barrel with enough time. That's more of an offshoot of the skill than a new one, though."
She pauses for a moment as she taps her chin, thinking deeply.
"I can also manipulate souls. It's mostly just moving them around here or there and devouring them when they die nearby to give me life, or Vigor, as some call it. If enough creatures die around me, I could make a bullet with little effort. That's what Killian did when he wanted to use me, or he'd sacrifice a limb by cordoning off what I could take and get a new one later."
Lily stops again as I open my mouth, priming a question for her about my father. He's always such an enigma.
"About that, how could my father do that? Would he regrow a limb?"
She shakes her head to question, giving me a short answer.
"No. What I take can never be restored. It goes soul-deep. He would make a new limb by taking it from an enemy."
Oh... that is interesting. I guess I now know what he meant by Lily being his only creation not involving flesh or bone. Another thought arises as I think of something regarding her skills. She seems limited in what she can do, either because of her form or being, but surely, she can learn more. Right?
"Lily, do you think you could do other things with that Soul-Devouring? If I were to kill something, could you divert the energy to me? Only if I needed it, of course."
Lily twists her head again, the big round eyes of crimson blinking rapidly for a moment before staring at me again.
"Yeah. I think so. I never tried. Next time it happens, I'll do it! I don't mind sharing those I don't kill, for they aren't all that tasty."
I heave a sigh of relief as Lily finally comes up with something she can do that won't have a massive potential of hurting me. And yet, another idea comes to mind, one that leads to so many possibilities.
"Are you alive, Lily?"
She purses her lips at my thought before shaking her head with a retort, her legs kicking out as she talks.
"Dunno. What does it mean to be alive? I can think, move things, and kill, but I can't breathe or move myself. Up to you."
Nodding at her response, I propose another idea to her.
"Do you think you could use general skills, things not given to you by your Sigils?"
Again, she moves her lip, this time biting it as she seems unsure. And as she thinks, my mind explodes with possibilities. If she can use general skills... then... so much can be done. Sure, I'll have to teach her, but everything will change once she learns how to even do simple things.
Not only will I have the potential to use Ether, but so does the Bloody Palm. If we are combined with Lily... A Wendigo is feared, revered, and hid from due to the ability to have two beings' Sigils merged into one. This makes them unpredictable, rugged, and enduring. What would you call something with three? Is it still a Wendigo?
Who knows.
And as I conclude my reflections, Lilly delivers an answer with her eyes avoiding mine.
"I don't know. I've only ever moved my Ether in ways that make sense. To go against that and do my own thing... it's... scary."
I can't help but laugh, but I quickly stamp on it as she seems hurt by my outburst. Immediately I try to fix it by explaining myself.
"You? Scared? Lily, come on. You are a deadly weapon forged from the origin of life and death. To move Ether? You were born with that ability. You were born of Ether, your mind coming from the Sigil and Ether density, no? How can you be scared of what you are?"
Lily rotates her head to look back at me as her face brightens, my words having an effect. I continue, endeavoring to explain to her the most straightforward skill possible, Physical Strengthening.
"Here. Why don't you try a skill right now? Try Physical Strengthening; all you have to do is flow Ether throughout a part of your frame in relatively even amounts. It should strengthen you. Try to do it on your barrel, okay?"
She nods, closing her eyes to try and do so. But as she attempts to control her Ether, I hear a voice, one distant yet absolutely present. And as I focus on it, my surroundings change, my mind pulled from Lily as I see her open her eyes in a panic before vanishing.
And as I search around, trying to flow my Ether, I find myself immersed in a dream, surrounded by impenetrable darkness. In this abyss, a voice reverberates, beckoning to me with an urgency that resonates deep within my soul. It calls out to me, imploring for my aid, its tone both desperate and familiar.
I strain my senses, trying to catch a glimpse of the origin of this ethereal voice. But the darkness persists, shrouding the speaker in mystery, concealing their form from my searching gaze. Yet, there is an undeniable connection, a bond that transcends the boundaries of this dream. And a moment later, a wooden door, cracked and strained, forms before my eyes in the dark. I open the door without anywhere else to go, and sensing whatever is calling me is friendly.
My senses heighten as I enter a vast chamber that stretches far beyond the reach of my vision. The air carries a peculiar stillness, tinged with a subtle aura of pride and discipline. Soft, formless light filters through unseen sources, casting a gentle glow upon the table that extends just as far as the chamber.
As I see the table, an idea is provoked within me. The High Table. What else could it be? And who has the capability to affect my dreams?
Abraham.
He's doing this. Somehow. Is he using his Absolution on me? How? I thought he could only use it on those he's deeply connected to, like how he's afraid of all the Councilmembers, so much so that he has nightmares of them every night. Do I terrify him? Or is there a different connection?
I have no answer to my question as I take in the vastness of this room and its emptiness.
The room is a realm of surreal emptiness devoid of life and any discernible purpose. Its smooth and featureless walls seem to merge seamlessly with the boundless expanse of the space.
The floor beneath my feet is an enigmatic tapestry, a vast expanse of polished ice from the Northern Wastes that reflects the dim illumination with a glossy sheen. Each step I take resonates, the sound swallowed by the vastness of the chamber, leaving only a faint echo that ultimately dissipates against the walls. But without a sign of Abraham, I continue, searching for a way out.
And as I explore further, my eyes are drawn to the intricate patterns etched into the walls, the divots in the wood replaced with ice, a harmony of timber and frigidness. They appear like ancient glyphs, their origin and meaning lost to the passage of time. The designs twist and turn, forming an intricate dance of lines and curves that have no meaning in my vision.
I strain to listen for any sound, any indication of life, but the room remains resolutely silent, barring my echoing feet. Moving further, I notice something hidden on the side of the wall. The construct catches my eye; I'm almost sure it was not there a second ago.
Curious, I shamble over to it, and I quickly notice it is a wooden door. It is the same one I saw earlier, covered in cracks and damage that make it seem like it is about to collapse any minute.
Placing my hand upon the bar of steel that acts as a handle, I pull it open, revealing a long alley of darkness. The hallway stretches before me, its darkness swallowing any trace of light that dares to venture within. The air grows heavy, laden with a palpable sense of foreboding. But along with that warning in the back of my mind is the whisper, returning to call me forward despite not having discernable words.
I traverse the gloomy corridor, and haunting echoes of sobs reach my ears, mingling with the eerie chants that reverberate through the closed walls around me. The foreign and unknown words carry a sinister weight, though I recognize the language. It comes from the Nahullo. I think it's Enlish that they use.
Step by step, as my surety of the cause of this being Abraham expands, I draw closer to the closed door at the end of the hallway. With each stride, the door looms larger, its form just as cracked and dilapidated as the one from before. My hand trembles from a vibration that strikes the whole hallway as I extend it toward the handle.
A dim light spills forth as the door creaks open, casting elongated shadows upon the chamber within. And within the room are many tall figures, most cloaked in hoods or metal armor. Five of which are recognizable. Cirn, Mislo, Malew, Niyte, and Abraham's father, the Viceroy.
I can barely understand what I see as I notice yet another body.
Among the two dozen or so total figures kneels another person trembling, a human woman that begs for life. She doesn't notice my entrance but the entrance of another, a bloodied Abraham tripping through a door beside me.
"Ahbram! Please! Save us!"
The half-blooded Nahullo stands beside me, sighing.
"Come, Wyatt. You were the only one I could call. It appears as those in slumber are much easier to summon. I can only call waking Councilmen, but sleeping people I know aren't too hard."
What? What the fuck is happening? I ignore Abraham's demand and make one of my own.
"Where the fuck are we? What's happening?"
Abraham sighs again, his hands pulling the pale skin on his face.
"Fine. I have time to explain. Override gives me some spare time in here, anyway. I used my Absolution skill to call you, an evolved form of Nightmare that summons the figure from my mind. It seems rules I do not yet understand exist for who I can conjure. Before, I thought it was merely a connection thing. Apparently, it is not, as when I reached for Bonfire, I felt you much more strongly. Perhaps... if the connection is not strong enough, dreaming can compensate for the lacking relationship."
His words only make partial sense to me as I flail my arms out to our surroundings, attempting to draw his attention to the literal sacrifice about to happen before us.
"And what about this!? This whole thing!?"
Abraham nods as his mouth opens, understanding hitting him square in the jaw. I can't believe he doesn't seem to react all that much to this madness. What the fuck?
"Oh! You mean this room. This is the origin of my Nightmares, where the skill draws from. My mother and unborn sister were sacrificed years ago in a ceremony for the Pale Cavity. Each of the Nightmares I conjure comes from this. Though I can also conjure Bonfire, he made me promise never to do it."
I turn from the scene, unwilling to watch it, as while it is merely a memory, the sights and sounds are gruesome to all hell. I raise my lips in disgust as I propose another critical question.
"Okay, I suppose that all makes sense, but why? Why are you conjuring me?"
Abraham nods as Ether streams between us, his mind connecting to mine with a memory that burns itself to my focus.
The figure in the memory, certainly Abraham, stands at the edge of a swampy and wet section of land, hidden in the shadows, watching a deadly dance unfold. The sun's piercing glow casts a warmth, illuminating the figures locked in a fierce struggle.
Amid the tangled marshes, a gunslinger, Johnny, and a moving shadow, Virgil, face off against a formidable adversary—a Rougarou. The creature's monstrous form, humanoid yet wolf-like, looms over them with primal strength. Forced to only watch this memory, I take it all I can, preparing myself for what is likely to be an enemy.
The gunslinger, his fingers wrapped around the grip of his trusty revolver, unleashes a barrage of bullets with lightning speed. Each shot finds its mark, tearing through the creature's hide with a resounding impact. Every bullet leaves massive wounds that heal gradually with lingering scars, a far cry from the rapid regeneration associated with the creatures.The slowed healing must be from Fate Sealer, but the Rougarou fights on, fueled by its feral instincts, as it roars with desperation.
Besides Johnny, Virgil moves with intangible grace, their body a blur of swift and deadly strikes. Shadows envelop their form, concealing their every movement as they navigate the treacherous terrain, sinking below and into obstacles, Flickering through it all.
And at crucial moments, where the Rougarou gets too close, Abraham conjures a Nightmare to meet the creature in a contest of strength or speed, allowing Johnny and Abraham to fight with calm.
The battle unfolds in a flurry of action and adrenaline, the air thick with tension and the scent of impending danger. The Rougarou retaliates with savage swipes of its claws and gnashing of its razor-sharp teeth. The mud quakes beneath its weight, amplifying the intensity of the clash.
But the vision abruptly cuts off just as the tide seems to turn. Time freezes, leaving me suspended in uncertainty. I am left with a vivid image of Virgil being sent hurtling into a moss-covered wall of wood, the impact echoing through the bayou as another Rougarou emerges from the marsh.
My heart sinks as Virgil's fate is unknown, and I immediately lose interest in this place. We need to help him. And thankfully, Abraham sees my earnestness instantly.
"See? It's urgent. We could handle it until a second came up, and Virgil got hit. I'm bringing you to be safe. The good thing is only a second has passed since that, for I wanted to holler for backup. Overdrive lets these minutes pass as fractions of that outside my mind, so whenever you're ready, we can go."
Without waiting a moment, I nod to him.
"Now. I'm good now."
