This isn't a dream anymore.
Jericho has seen these tunnels. He's seen and remembered its bends and turns. So close what he's seen and what he's seeing that he could've mistaken this as another dream.
The wizard tries to remain calm as he traverses the dark tunnel as best he can with the limited light his wand gives. It's a small fire spell to act as a torch. The wizard always prefer this instead of a normal light spell; the flickering and crackling of the fire gives him a peculiar feeling of comfort and liveliness, a contrast to a light spell's uncomfortable monotone glow, with its constant frustrating and boring hum. They're like neon lights but worse.
Gazing at the fire once in a while keeps him calm. It almost feels like he's not alone, accompanied by this dancing fire. He'd nearly named it.
He needed this comfort. He'd trouble thinking straight the moment he stepped foot into the tunnel, despite his preparedness.
His head had been clear for most of the night, always focused and confident on his goal. But now, he's clouded with so many thoughts and fears. It's that moment of cluelessness when a plan plays too well and now you have no idea what to do with next.
He's thankful to know that the patrols didn't follow him in. He guessed that the stairs must've closed itself after some time he entered. This gives him enough time to think for himself, and to breathe. In the heat of the moment, he didn't have much time to think of the implications of what's happened so far.
Jericho now knows he's clairvoyant. There can be no doubt now. He's still trying to come to terms with this. The tense situation demands him not to celebrate yet, not until he's fully safe.
He stops at an intersection and so does his train of thought. He shakes his head and takes a route.
Focus, Jericho, don't think the irrelevant things. Only focus on what to do next. What did my dreams show? How did I go to that so called Abyss in my dreams?
It took him some difficulties, but he arrives in that wide space he saw in his dreams in a relatively short time. He stops by the entrance. Hesitancy fills his heart. He scans the area as best he can, but the limited light he has makes it impossible to see the other end of the wide opening.
So this is the Blue Moon Abyss… I can see why they call it an abyss.
Jericho takes a deep breath and takes a step forward. The moment he does, he knows something isn't right anymore. It feels like someone's watching him. He stops abruptly and looks behind him, then everywhere around him. The fire in his wand dances as he moves quickly, quicker than he wanted. He must've been more scared than he realized.
He has some vague ideas on what will happen next, but he can't erase this sense of fear in him. He tries to walk further, but he found his legs quivering, struggling to even move.
There's no hiding it. I'm scared as hell. He thought, feeling pathetic at himself. But what can I say? I literally know a ghost is waiting for me here!
He swallows hard. He takes a deep breath, and finally takes the first step forward. Two steps in, nothing's wrong. Three steps in, things are still fine. At the sixth step he takes, a cold breeze passes through the room.
That's unnatural. How could such a wind carry itself as far as here?
He didn't have time to care about the cold and wind, because he realizes the room's getting darker. He realized he must've let his guard down, and lose concentration on his fire.
He strengthens the fire and continues. He stops in his track when he can't see far in front of him.
"Come on now". He strengthens his fire again.
Everything remains dark. He can't see far in front of him still. He strengthens his fire again. Nothing changes.
He checks his wand, trying to see if he's run out of magic. But just a glance at his wand and his eyes sting. The fire on his wand was so big that seeing it a second hurts his eyes.
Through watery and narrowed eyes, he tries to glance at his wand's fire.
It's as big as his fists. It was but a match's size at the beginning. Yet now it gives even less illumination.
He'd thought this is nothing but a trick of the light. But numerous glances between his wand's fire and his surroundings confirms it: the darkness that surrounds him is unnatural. No matter how big his fire is, the room is still dark.
Frustrated and beginning to panic, the boy aims his wand to the ceiling with both hands and fires off a massive flame spell. It shoots towards the ceiling, leaving a trail of fire. But the moment it flies a few metres from him, the darkness consumes it. He can't see it flying off anymore.
Jericho grimaces.
It's started
Something is behind him. The feeling of somebody's presence right behind him is unmistakeable. His face goes pale. His chest feels cold and tight.
The ghost—
He turns around, but halfway, he feels a pair of hands, cold and white as snow, caressing his cheeks. The cold chill on his cheeks and the one that runs up his spine is the last thing he feels as his senses and instincts left him. He feels no fear, no urge to run and kick and defend himself. His eyes are wide but they're unfocused and unblinking. His pale face and absent eyes looks like a lantern without a flame. In this state of trance, he slowly loses grip of his wand. His flame flickers and fades as the wand slips off his fingers. The flame dies as the wand clatters on the uneven stone floor. Slowly, his numb body topples, joining the wand in the floor. He didn't even react in any way as his body falls to the floor.
When the wizard opens his eyes, he does not feel the cold, unpleasant and uneven surface of the cave's floors. It's soft now, and warm against his skin. Instead of cold rock, his body is sinking into a warm spring-bed. Instead of the unsettling darkness of the cave, he's in a familiar well-lit room. And instead of the stagnant air of the cave, every breath he takes is fulfilling, and has a distinct homey smell to it.
He glances to his side, a fish swims in his bowl peacefully. His eyes are stuck on the goldfish, wide and unblinking.
What happened? He rubs his cheeks. The last thing I remembered was… I was in the tunnel. No, I already arrived in the abyss. This isn't the tunnel nor the Blue Moon Abyss.
"This is your room", a woman's voice calls out. The wizard quickly sits up on his bed and looks behind him. He's met with nothing but the sight of his unmade bed.
His head feels woozy after the sudden movement, but he ignores that. He thought he heard something, it was a crisp and clear voice, but… there's nothing here.
Confused, the boy gets off his bed and tries to shove this one under the carpet. It's just one of those audio hallucinations he heard about, happens especially when you're lacking sleep. He did, in fact, missed an entire night's sleep just to find the Abyss.
Got to keep my mind back on track. Why am I here? How did I—
"Hear me, wizard". Again, the same womanly voice.
He quickly turns around again, but like last time, there's no one in the room aside from him and Francis.
The voice sounded womanly! It didn't remotely sound like any of his friends'. His eyes search quickly around the room, trying to find any explanation to this. He took a guess, and immediately race to the door.
He ran only to find his door locked. Nothing weird; he always locks the door, he only needs to turn the key that he always readily stick to the keyhole and…
There's no key.
What?
He's stuck in his own room, locked inside without his key. This feels like a nightmare situation.
How could this happen? This doesn't make any sense to the wizard. He always stuck the key into the keyhole so he wouldn't forget in urgencies. Where could it possibly be?
Just as he questions this, the familiar rattling noise of his keys reach his ear. But it's muffled. The noise is from the other side of the door.
Fear turns to confusion. The boy stares incredulously as the doorknob fidgets and its lock's mechanism clicks in its familiar noise. The door swings open and the person outside rushes into the room, nearly running into Jericho if he didn't move aside in time.
A blur of black hair rushes past Jericho. In that split second Jericho could make out the details of this mysterious intruder with his key…
The messy black hair, the neat uniform with pink sash, and deep dark eyes that he's seen so many times in the mirror every morning… Jericho is staring at himself.
His eyes and mouth cannot widen any further. He nearly cries, but he covered his mouth tight with his hands and cries into them instead.
This bizarre doppelganger seems to have not noticed the real one or ignored him completely and instead makes a beeline for the desk, seemingly in a hurry. Meanwhile, the real Jericho is left frozen in place for seconds. He backs away to keep as much distance as he could from the doppelganger, backing away till his back meets the wall, like a woman who just saw a cockroach.
Wait a minute, this isn't the first time this happens.
He's reminded of one mischievous blond wizard. "Aaron?" he calls out.
The doppelganger turns his head to his direction.
W-woah, am I right? Jericho's heart skips a beat. But fear turns to confusion once again when the doppelganger ignores him and returns to his business. In fact, ignore doesn't sound like the correct word. Its eyes didn't even stop at Jericho, as if he's nothing but air! Invisible to him.
Now more curious and confused than scared, the wizard braves himself to approach the odd doppelganger.
"Is this some elaborate prank? I'm not impressed, just mad!" he yells. Still, no respond. Jericho walks to the doppelganger's side and waves his hand in front of its face.
Nothing, no response. He's either invisible or the doppelganger is blind, deaf, and stupid… neither possibilities sounds rational.
Jericho reaches to the doppelganger's shoulder. "Hey". But his hand passes through it like its air. His eyes went wide. Quickly, the wizard retracts his hand and inspects it, then back at the doppelganger's shoulder.
Not exactly a doppelganger. Noted. This is a very trippy dream I'm in. He looks to his open palm. Then back at the doppelganger again. Or an illusion. Does that mean someone is doing this to me? Which is it?
"Take a close look, wizard".
Jericho froze again. He was watching the doppelganger, and he noted that its mouth didn't move. The voice's not from it.
This time, he's not too scared of the voice, not when this doppelganger is preoccupying him. Nonetheless, he once again tries to find the source of the voice, looking at every corner of the room.
For some reason, his eyes are attracted to the body mirror standing next to his wardrobe. He sees his reflection there. There was nothing off about that, until he saw in the reflection someone standing behind him, and it's not his doppelganger.
His heart stops for a beat.
Right behind him, standing taller than his bookshelf is a woman of green hair, so long and fair it threatens to touch the floor, a floor that the green clothed woman doesn't bother to touch with her feet.
He swallows hard. Slowly, Jericho looks to his back, only to find nothing but the doppelganger who still seems to busy itself searching through his desk. But when he looks at the mirror again, the green lady is definitely there behind him.
This thing ticks every box of what a ghost is. Despite himself, he's somewhat steadier once he accepted this fact. He was, after all, expecting and even searching for a ghost inside the Blue Moon Abyss. Finally, he's face to face with the being he's heard so much about from Akko.
I 'recognize' her but even so… this is unnerving.
The ghost lady reads his expression well. She raises an eyebrow in amusement. "Oh, you recognize me?"
He nods anxiously. "You're a ghost, the ghost, Blue Moon Abyss's ghost. Shit". The boy cursed. It's unforgivable, he knows, but what else could he say?
He noted that there was a delay to the ghost's response. "…I see".
Did I miss something? The boy thought. No, I must be imagining things.
"Let me make a guess: you're the one that did all those weird things to me in the tunnel?"
The ghost nods. "Yes. I've known your arrival the moment you set foot on the tunnel".
"Is this your doing as well, then? An illusion, or is this a dream I'm having?"
"You can say it's a little bit of both", she answers vaguely, receiving an amused look from the boy.
She must be powerful. For a dead thing to be able to conjure such magic…
"Now, take a close look, wizard". The ghost moves her hand. She points towards the doppelganger. "Look closely. You sought me for answers, and I'll generously give them to you".
So she knows even that. I'll not bother asking how. The mental image of Akko excitedly telling him all details of this wise ghosts graces his head. Annoying! Get off!
However, annoyed as he is, he knows everything she told him will be helpful now.
Temperamental but wise, was it, Akko? I don't want to find out what being stubborn or nosey will do.
He follows the ghost's order. Upon closer inspection, he notices something off about his doppelganger. Its hand is bleeding from a freshly cut wound on its right hand.
Jericho instinctively rubs his own right hand. Instead of a fresh wound all he feels there is a smooth and healed skin with only small scars left.
This is…
Jericho quickly turns to another part of his room, where a first aid kit sits comfortably next to a stack of old books.
Next he'll…
True to his prediction, the doppelganger runs towards it. True to his prediction again, the doppelganger takes out a roll of bandage and some antiseptics and begin working on its wound. It continues to dress its wound terribly, making Jericho wince.
This thing isn't an exact copy of me. It is a copy, but not of me of the present…
Jericho's watching himself do things he's already done. This is textbook flashback. He thought it only happens in movies and literature, but he supposes its happening to him right now.
"You know answers to the past, present and future", the boy recounts what Akko told him in a murmur. With that put in mind, it's not a far stretch that such a ghost have this power to show him his past. It's unsettling and scary, the thought that someone other than him could know such details of his life.
A Christmas Carol type of ghost indeed, Akko, the wizard thought, much to his chagrin.
The only worthwhile question is 'why'? "Why am I seeing my past?" he turns to the ghost in the mirror.
The ghost in the mirror nods. "You came to me seeking answers, answers as to why you're having these odd dreams, as you call them. We're both here to answer that". She takes a pause, her brows furrow as she studies the boy carefully. Jericho, in turn, mimics her gestures with much less confidence.
"What do you remember from your dreams? They give you these helpful guidance, yes? It showed you a blue moon. It showed you Luna Nova. It showed you a secret path way and secret spell that would open it and lead you to a hidden cave under the chapel. All of them very vital in bringing you to your goal that's meeting me. How do you think you know all of these secrets?"
Jericho is dead sure this is a question he's not supposed to answer. The ghost thankfully didn't expect him to. She leans forward. Suddenly her figure felt imposing as she looks down on him.
"The answer is simple: you don't know these secrets".
He blinks. He thinks he misheard what she said. No, he heard right. She's just not making any sense. He even questions if they're speaking the same language.
"That… doesn't make sense. Respectfully, you're not making sense here", the boy argues. "I believe my dreams are clairvoyant. That I'm clairvoyant".
End of story. Right?
"To be clairvoyant means you achieve visions through your own efforts and abilities. In your case you believe the dreams are your visions, and that you achieve these clairvoyant dreams on your own. But you're not clairvoyant—you don't achieve these dreams on your own". The ghost straightens her back. "I'll make it simple. Your dreams are not dreams; they're memories. And these memories are not your own; they're someone else's".
This isn't helping in the slightest. Whatever she's trying to convey, the wizard can't comprehend. They really are speaking different languages. He could only frown awkwardly, unsure what to even ask.
Any question he has is cut short as he hears a girlish yelp from behind him, followed by the sound of something solid hitting the floor. He turns around to his doppelganger.
His doppelganger is clutching his freshly injured hand tightly. Jericho's eyes drift to the item that the doppelganger dropped. His eyes widen as he recognizes the item.
It's the bloodstone, the one he gained in that cursed night in London.
Jericho watches the stone in silent apprehension while his doppelganger retreats from the stone, as it now, just as Jericho remembered, starts to spit out blood.
"You've read extensively about bloodstones. Do you remember what they do?" The ghost asks. "A bloodstone takes as much as it gives. It takes blood and produces fantastic witchcrafts and sorceries. That much everyone understand, but what many underestimate is its adverse effects".
Jericho turns to the ghost. A bead of sweat runs down his chin.
"Bloodstones feed on blood, but the blood don't just disappear once they're consumed. Once all the needed parts of the blood are consumed by the bloodstone, all that remains are dregs of that blood. Like excrements, if you compare the stone to a living being. That's why bloodstones gradually turn dark red over use as the dregs pile up inside them.
Jericho feels sick hearing this. He'd never get such graphic and morbid explanations on magic from his teachers. He figured blood magic is still considered black magic for reasons like this.
"But what are inside these dregs? The most incredible thing that's stored in them are memories of its owner".
He feels the hairs on his back turn on end. I've read this somewhere, that night when the school went out of power! But I didn't know it could leave something as significant as a person's memory!
"Now your bloodstone had gone red long ago, meaning that so many blood had been used to fuel it that it built up too many dregs that it can no longer be used. With that many dregs in the stone, imagine how many memories are in just a drop of those dregs.
His eyes widen. 'Your dreams are not dreams; they're memories', he recalls in his head. He stiffly rubs at his healed right hand. "And I touched the stone with an open wound", the boy says. He swallows hard and asks, "Some of that blood came inside me through that wound, didn't it? I touched it with an open wound".
"Four drops of it". The ghost's answer was instant, apathetic, and flat, without an ounce of sympathy nor a trace of negativity like cynicism. She was inhuman, seemingly unmoved by his despair. It's the worst way to receive a grim news.
"And can it alter the dreams of someone that…"
"It can affect the mind of any person that comes into contact with it in a lot of ways. Dreams one of them. Once again, wizard: your dreams are not dreams; they're memories. And these memories are not your own; they're someone else's".
It finally made sense.
The wizard's face turns white. The amount of detail he'd received is enormous, and some flies by his mind in a blur, given too quickly for him to feel its impact. But that last part… it felt like it moved into his head like in a slow motion, like a bullet slowly and achingly boring into his head. He could feel every bit of implication it brings.
Slowly, stiffly, he turns his head away from the ghost. He covers his shivering lips with his equally trembling hands. He hangs his head, and he stares emptily at the floor. This way, he falls into a long silence.
He wants to process everything he's heard, but doing so makes his stomach drop. It would make him nauseous. He feels disgusted at his own body. If it's a clothing he would've taken it off him. The thought that something alien is swirling inside him, running through every ends of his blood veins and organs and senses that it even affects his brain in his sleep disgusts him greatly.
As he falls into silent panic, the ghost keeps a close eye on him. She's giving him time. Perhaps, the first human thing she's done for him tonight.
"Shit". The silence was broken by the wizard himself. It was all he could say. The ghost was surprised, but she doesn't scold him for this. She could see the fear and distraught swelling in his dark eyes and thought it's an appropriate reaction.
"Fuck", he goes again. This time the ghost's eyes twitch slightly. It makes her want to continue to stop any more—
"God, fuck—".
"All those dreams you had are not dreams, they're memories, memories owned by the victims of the stone", the ghost re-explains, somewhat in a rushed and irritated manner. "And it just so happens one of them had treaded the grounds of Luna Nova in her lifetime, and even walked to the hidden abyss". The ghost's brows arch in curiosity and amusement. "This might be the first lucky thing that's happened to you; this particular memory has brought you to me".
Lucky? The wizard lifts his gaze towards the ghost, an uncertain look in his eyes. "There's something I'm still not sure with".
He understood that his dreams had been highly uncomfortable, and just recently that his dream has morbid origins. Remarkably morbid and disgusting origins. But that doesn't necessarily mean they're bad. So far he's no reason to think these alien memories he has are dangerous to him. They're terrifying and disgusting, true, but so far has it not helped him so much?
"You said it yourself that these dreams had been guiding me and helping me. I heard everything you just said, but what makes you think this blood inside me is bad?"
He sounded insolent. He realizes this the moment he finished speaking, not before. He realized he's like a spoiled child in denial, unable to let go of his favourite toy.
The ghost smirks in reply. It scares the wizard more than it comforts him. "You're bargaining. That's adorable", she says. There's a very rare humorous and amused edge to her voice. But then, a dark look crosses her face, the transition seamless. "I said you're lucky because any later you come here and we would be too late".
The hairs on his back stand on end immediately.
The ghost looks to her side. "This is how many have lost themselves", she says, her voice rising.
From the base of her mirror, a dark shadow spreads into the room, like ink to water. The wizard lifts his feet up in turns as the shadow approaches and closes his eyes. Once he felt nothing happening, he opens his eyes, only to find that he's in an entirely different room.
It's a familiar place. It's the chapel under the New Moon tower. Below it would be where he was, the Blue Moon Abyss. This place is exactly the same as he left it, the only difference being the body mirror that houses the mysterious ghost is still beside him. Curiously, the mirror's reflection still shows the ghost and his room, not the chapel as it should. The light of his room's lights spills intensely into the lightless chapel, alongside an ethereal mist and green hue that the ghost seems to constantly generate.
The wizard notices the sky outside. There's a blue moon out there. Was this when I tried to enter the abyss?
"Pay attention, wizard", the ghost says, interrupting him. Her voice is calm, but it's not to be mistaken with gentleness. He could feel the power behind her voice. It's like a calm ocean that could roar with tempests in a moment's notice. This keeps him on an edge, far from respite.
Any question he has is stopped when he hears footsteps, light but rushed. The boy watches in stunned silence as a person rushes across the chapel. She went past him without batting an eye, just like his doppelganger.
He glances at the blue moon again, then back at the girl. That's weird, I didn't remember seeing anyone aside from Amanda in the chapel that time. Perhaps she came here before I did? Who is this girl?
This girl stops in front of the statues. Seeing that she couldn't see him, the wizard casually walks up beside her. He looks at her face from beside. He doesn't recognize this girl.
The first thing he noticed of her features is her thick glasses and the strong, sharp eyes the girl has. They're a greenish shade of teal, but the blue moon's light gives them a darker look. Her cool and constantly-slightly-irritated face gives him the impression that she's someone that's not fun to be with, and unbelievably scary if angered. She has long untidy lavender hair. This coupled with her general appearance gives him the impression that she's not the kind to give much attention to her appearances.
I've never seen this girl before. That's odd. Even though I don't know a lot of my classmates, I remember faces well.
He folds his arms and takes a second look at the girl again.
But she looks like the type that intentionally hides herself from being seen, and enjoys not being seen. That explains her disregard for prettiness. But actually she's already pretty this way.
The wizard finds himself staring for too long. He can tell his cheeks look red right about now.
I'm being extremely creepy he shuts his eyes frowns. But my point still stands. I don't think I wouldn't notice her. That's weird. Who is she?
The mysterious girl whispers something, like a spell, just like he did when he tried to open the secret stairs. And just like what happened to him, the floor collapses in front of them to reveal a flight of stairs.
Despite having already experienced this once, Jericho still fears the uncomfortable feeling of having his body shaken to the core by the rumbling stairs. Much to his surprise, he couldn't feel a thing, or rather only a little. He only feel light shuddering from the collapsing stairs, a huge contrast to what he felt back then.
Perhaps it's because this is just an illusion or something…
This is confirmed when he glances at the lavender haired girl and found her previously built up cool and confident aura broken as she shudders uncomfortably along with the rumbling floor.
How bizarre. I'm no different than a ghost.
He stops all his thoughts when one realization hits him.
The wizard purses his lips. He turns to the ghost in the mirror. "This is the dream I had, the one that I learnt from to lead me to you".
"Sharp", the ghost remarks. Beyond that, there's nothing that indicates she was impressed. Her face and tone was dead as a stone. "Because of that, you think these dreams, these memories could benefit you, don't you?"
The boy grimaces, but he nods. Something tells him lying won't favour him. "It took me to you. I'd say it's beneficial to me".
"You're right, they do help you much more than you'll ever know". The ghost nods. Her eyes close momentarily. She seemed serene at first, but when her eyes open, a fierce gaze pierces the wizard. She says, "But the memories you witness so far are tame. This helpful memory is but one memory in a sea of other less savoury memories from other less pleasant lives".
The room disappears within a blink of an eye, much faster than the transition from his room to the chapel. The wizard finds himself in an entirely different place. Once again, the only thing that stays with him is the mirror the ghost is in. No sign of that mysterious girl anymore.
"Again?" he grits his teeth as he looks around.
Around him is a wide field of crops. Upon closer inspection, he realizes most of the crops he's seeing are dead. Black and rotten, eaten by locusts, harmful parasites, or made so by men he couldn't tell. All he could tell is that this is a depressing farm, and the granaries and the barns that stands nearby are not in a better shape.
His stomach does a funny flip. "Hey, ghost", he begins. "What are you doing?"
Jericho glances around. He finds a large dead tree behind him. Something is unsettling about it. Its rotting black bark grabs all his attention. He covers his nose, but finds it redundant—like before, he can't seem to sense everything accurately in these memories.
His eyes trail upwards. Upwards and upwards to the thick finger-like trunks. Hair stood on end on his skin with each passing second. The cold he feels isn't from the wind.
"This is a different memory of a different person in time. A more ancient memory from a more ancient person", the ghost resumes, her eyes distant at first as she too scans the surrounding landscape, although with greater apathy. "The four drops of dregs that now reside in your body and giving you your dreams were near-dead when they're in the stone, lying dormant. Your body however acts as a perfect host for them to be revived. It means that the dreams you see so far are only the beginning, and the worst you get after witnessing them are mere nuisances: a spinning headache and an uncomfortable sleep, or perhaps an aching chest due to a particularly disturbing memory dream..."
Jericho wants to speak again, to complain and whine to the ghost. But he finds he can't move his mouth. He feels the world stops when he finally looks up at the tree and found not leaves, but eyes staring back at him.
Jericho covers his trembling lips. "No!" he cries in horror. But before he could shut his eyes away from the horror, the dead farm disappears and he finds himself in another entirely different place.
Now he's in a busy town, gloomy and rainy. The people around him dressed funnily to him, and speaks even funnier. But that does little to quench the disgust and fear in his stomach. He looks around him in distress, finding no sign of that damned farm or tree anywhere around him. The ghost saved him. He's sweating cold sweats and grasping for air, but he's safe now. Safe.
"Given time, the dregs will mature, and the memories they show you will be more frequent and intense. They'll no longer feel like they're dreams".
His eyes widen in horror.
Now in a shorter interval than before, the world changes again. Then again, and again, and again. The world folds and unfolds in front of him in repeat. His eyes sting as they adjust to the sudden changes of brightness. Deep dark cave to wide sunny cliffs. Lifeless graveyards to lively parades. Torch-lit dungeons to a series of burning stakes. Burning stakes. People tied to them. Witches.
He has to keep up with all of this. He does see pleasant memories, but they pale in comparison to the horrible ones as one disturbing memory to another assaults him. A great vertigo is building up inside him. His body confused to the unnatural changes around it and his mind overwhelmed by the clashing of fear and confusion and panic he's feeling.
"In time, you will feel each blade of grass, each drop of rain, and each touch of the skin in your dreams. In time, you'll also feel the more horrific things".
True to her words, he felt the heat of a charcoal as his fingers merely graze it in one of the shown memories. It's still inaccurate, not as hot as it would be in real life, but he noted quickly that he could sense the heat stronger than in some memories before this.
She's mad!
He wants to speak up, to scream even. To complain to the ghost of this nauseating and aching illusions. But before he could even open his mouth, the world around him changes once again. Once again, his eyes sting at the sudden change of brightness, and the aching headache and crippling terrors are only getting stronger.
"In time, Jericho, they'll be far more than mere nuisances to you. The memories that invade you will not grow weaker…"
The memory changes again. He's thrown into one of wild rolling hills, lush and green with life. The wind was pleasant, and the smell of the grass's fresh dew was perfect. It took Jericho a second to realize he's on his knees. He allows himself to sit down to catch his breath. The bed of grass seems soft and pleasant, not too wet and not too dry, but once again he couldn't accurately feel the world around him. It's like his senses are numbed.
His head's empty at this point. He can't think straight, only able to stare absently into the distance as he tries to catch his breath.
The ghost and her mirror stands a distance away behind him. He thought he finally found respite here in this peaceful world, but she begins to speak again. At this point her voice, no matter how delicate it is, feels like it grates his ears.
"…They'll only grow stronger".
His heart feels like it stopped beating for a second. He's about to cry. He could feel the tears swelling at the corners of his eyes. But before he could even blink, the world around him spirals out of control as he's violently jerked out of the peaceful hills and thrown into the next nightmare.
Author's Notes: This chapter got dark! But they're not dark just for the heck of it. There's of course a reason Woodward is this merciless to him, you just gotta see it in the next chapter that I hope will finish quickly, because it's actually a part of this chapter that I decided to cut because it's too long.
In any case, I'm a few hours late, but I posted this chapter near the birthday of Croix, and Constanze a day before of course! Whoooop! Fictional character birthdays hell yeah.
Oh, and in case you're confused, yes, the ghost's Woodward, but Jericho doesn't recognize her. He only thought she's the ghost of the Blue Moon Abyss. He couldn't be blamed, in my opinion, since honestly no one should accurately remember the faces of the Nine Olde Witches unless they're a complete nerd.
As always, follow, favourite, and most importantly review! I really appreciate all your reviews! They keep me going.