"One seem'd all dark and red—a tract of sand,
And someone pacing there alone,
Who paced forever in a glimmering land,
Lit with a low large moon."
-The Palace of Art, Lord Alfred Tennyson-
Chapter Three
"…An unearthly domain…"
She felt sick as she fled from the tendrils of sleep. The prior events had drained much of her energy, but Aleta still had the resolve to rise. She heard a voice, but it spoke with a hollow sound, as though muffled by a rush of wind or water. A predominating sense of terror hindered her ability to move. Before long, she became aware that someone was holding her; lifting her up and setting her in a sitting position. The touches were obviously gentle, and she felt consoled by this unknown presence.
In five minutes more, she grasped her full consciousness—she was in a chaise longue of sorts, softened by cushions. It was dusk, for there was a bright orange line beyond the genteel countryside. The room itself was luxurious on its own: it was long and narrow, with an ornate molded ceiling, and walls lined with ruby red damask silk.
Her memories suddenly harked back to the collapsing city and the disastrous plunge down the cliff. It was a miracle she had survived such nightmare. But where are all the others? Where is Leslie? And more notably, what is this place and who brought her here? With a groan, Aleta pulled away from the pillows and sat upright this time to gather her bearing. She reached up to feel the locket between her fingers, to collect the cheer that she needed, but she simply clasped at nothing.
Aleta could feel her heart jump in genuine alarm. Her locket! Her only source of security was gone! She looked around, thinking that it must be underneath the pillows and paddings. It wasn't there. The young woman stood up and instantly let out a sob. She had never lost her dear trinket before.
"Are you awake now, young Miss?" Aleta looked to the doorway and saw a white-gloved servant standing there in a typical erudite posture. He wore the standard uniform of a butler with a creamy white waistcoat underneath his black jacket, a silky cravat, and a small silver badge on his left lapel.
"Sir, do you know what has happened to my acquaintances or the city?" Aleta asked him.
"I'm afraid I do not have an inkling of what you speak. You are the only one living in this house." The butler explained in a flat tone before walking away. "Please, follow me. Everything has been arranged in the Great Chamber."
Aleta got up warily, but trailed after the taller man nonetheless. "What is this place, sir?"
Further down the decorative corridor, which was also similar to the room that she had left behind, the butler spoke again and his voice echoed off the ceiling and walls. "This house was built on the desires of the Master. It is where ideas and dreams amass together, kept away from those wanting to blemish his immaculate objectives."
The corridor ended at a striking stairway leading down to what seemed to be the Great Chamber. Orangey-colored marble columns supported the painted ceiling that portrayed rosy-cheeked cherubs transporting a lovely Grecian woman to an awaiting deity at the other end of the magnificent room. In midst of it, there was a three-tiered chandelier burning brightly, and the skillfully cut crystals twinkled in the artificial light.
Up above on the balcony, she could see other paintings depicting the ranks of the upper class that divided them from the common people. The windows had been meticulously built in a way that the sunlight would focus on the graying statue of a veiled angel that watched over the enormous hall.
"This way, young Miss." The butler's tenor drowned the mood. Aleta looked straight ahead and saw him standing beside an ornate chair. "I have been told to give you orders from the Master himself. Come, sit down, and feel at ease. This will be a momentary consultation."
Aleta carefully approached the furniture. But the butler appeared calm and collected whilst waiting, and so she gave in and sat down on the attractive seat. She felt the air leaving the cushions as her weight brought it down. The butler then left her side to acquire something at an adjacent table. Everything became more gigantic and threatening from her current point of view.
From nowhere, she heard the sound of a sharp chirp, and Aleta looked down to see a yellow canary on her right armrest. "Hello there, how did you get in here?" she quietly asked it. She held up her hand and the little bird hopped onto her extended finger, chirping away happily as if it fitted there. However, her minute of bliss had ended when the butler returned with a tall flute of champagne. The bird flew away in fright, and Aleta couldn't help but feel suspicious.
"Now, before we begin, the Master had once told me that Forgetting only occurs when the formerly strengthened synaptic connections in the neurons are damaged. But, these links can be rehabilitated and reinforced with proper conduct." The butler stated while Aleta took a sip of the bubbly drink. "He also believed that a portrayal of a traumatic event could be a key factor in memory retrieval, because they tend to be imprinted even more strongly than normal due to their emotional content."
While the man spoke, the young woman on the chair started to sense a strange numbness beginning at the tip of her fingers—it travelled up her arms, and into her head. The edges of her eyesight were going out of focus, and before she knew it, Aleta dropped the glass onto the marble floor and heard the obvious clatter. The butler, nevertheless, continued his lecture.
"Onto the important part then," he said, slowly pacing his way around the chair to stand in front of her intimidatingly. "The Master has the object which you seek. But, in order to reclaim this locket, are you willing to tread the path you have forsaken?"
"W-What do you mean? What's going on? Please, stop!" Aleta gasped. Her vision was spiraling, and the chandelier swayed on its own.
The butler's voice then echoed strongly in the room. "No one will help you this time, Miss Aleta. The tasks you will encounter are of your own struggle. Oh, and by the way, I should warn you that the things you fear the most now have the power to kill you. Hence, be prudent in your endeavors, and remember everything before it is too late."
Aleta let out a groan upon yielding to the inescapable fatigue. Seconds later, something compelled her to come around. She knew the sensation of being observed—it had been habitual during her time at Beacon Mental Hospital. She grumbled in pain and massaged her left brow. But the throbbing was strangely more prominent in her nape.
Blinking her eyes to mend her sight, Aleta looked around, realizing that she was inside a solarium. However, to her sorrow, the plants were dead and withered. All that lingered were perennial vines and burgeoning moss. Above, through the broken glass roof, the moon was fully round and radiant.
"How did I get here?" she said quietly. Once she got to her feet, she approached the stained glass doors and tried to peer through the dirty panes. There was something out there, waiting for her to come out of the room—a towering, black figure standing in the corner. Then, it moved so suddenly, the mysterious creature knocked down several shelves and pots to the floor.
Aleta stepped away, fearing that it had spotted her. But nothing happened. "What was that thing?"
With thoughtful intent, Aleta pushed the wrought iron door and it opened with a deafening groan. So far, nothing came out to inspect the din she made. She walked in between the rotting trellises, observing each rose that were larger than an infant's fist. It looked like a storm had struck the place, for the wooden doors were unfastened from their hinges, and portions of cut-glass were ominously hanging above her head.
Brown debris had covered most of the footpath, whereas a few miniature trees had made their way out of their pots and booths. A few more hesitant steps were taken, and then she found herself in a courtyard with a domed roof. Several plants were strewn over the path, like undesirable weeds; others lay heaped against each other. Earth had spilled out most of the containers, and numerous ceramic urns were shattered, leaving a tangle of plump brown roots exposed to the air.
And then, Aleta saw something amidst the rubble—the man was stretched on his back in the bed of red spider lilies. She raced down the path to look at his helpless form. He seemed to be in his late twenties or early thirties, and was rather foreign in appearance. A silver police badge gleamed in the faint light, and she assumed that he was a member of the law. Perhaps he could help her find a way out of this conservatory?
Aleta knelt down and tugged at his shoulder holsters to rouse him. "Wake up, sir," she commanded. "Please, wake up!" She tugged more insistently.
As soon as she grabbed at his vest and yanked upward, intending to bring him in a seated position, the man gasped aloud and breathed in the foul air. He coughed from having to draw in such stench. His gloved hands flew to take hold of his attacker's wrists, thinking that he was being strangulated. But he was quick to stop himself and realize that it was only a young girl trying to help him.
He looked ashamed. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to scare you." He removed his hands and placed them on top of his head.
"It's fine." Aleta reassured him. She waited for him to recover properly. "I'm Aleta, by the way. And who might you be?"
"Detective Joseph Oda, from Krimson City Police Department," he said. Aleta could tell that this man was formal and direct with introductions. "Do you have any idea where we are right now?"
"It looks like a conservatory of sorts," she explained. "But it looks more like a birdcage to me."
Joseph nodded. He took out a small notebook and pen, and started to jot down on a blank page. "And how did you arrive here?" he questioned her. Aleta went to tell him that she was at the hospital when the earthquake happened and she had managed to escape with a few survivors.
"Wait, you were with the others from my precinct? Where are they now?" Joseph interrogated.
"I don't know exactly," Aleta replied. "When I woke up, I was all alone."
"That is strange, indeed. Anyway, we can't stay here for long. We should find a way out and look for your doctor. It isn't safe for someone like you to wander around." His explanation somehow struck a chord in Aleta's mind, but she agreed with him nonetheless. Joseph stood to his full height and offered a hand to Aleta. She took it kindly and closely followed the detective from behind.
So I just turned 22 yesterday, and it still feels like nothing has changed.
On to the more milder side, I didn't know how to approach this chapter because I didn't want it to be like Sebastian's where you enter your own mind and wake up in the ambulance half-cooked, or the Kidman Way where you wake up, chase some hallucination of Leslie, recall some memory, and then wake up to a nightmarish world.
In the end, I ended up with an almost Sebastian Method, but Aleta is directly placed into some mindscape Ruvik made for her. Surprise! Joseph is also there because he's a perfectionist that wants to kill himself, and with my OFC being a meticulous artist they might be at odds.
Losing the locket is important as Sebastian losing his favorite trench coat.
Also, if Juli Kidman can have a cat inside her mindscape, then Aleta will have, you guessed it, birds! In an earlier draft, Aleta was supposed to have a Saluki as a save point just to contrast Juli's SaveCat, but then it couldn't work. So Tweetie Bird it is!
Please leave a review, follow it, or just simply favorite it! I really appreciate your opinions, and I wish to know what I can do to make this story more exciting than it is. Thank you!
The Evil Within belongs to Shinji Mikami and Tango Gameworks! I only own Aleta Volante, her wardrobe, and her knack of staying calm in the worst scenarios ever.