Somewhere in the Blue Moon Abyss
21 minutes before their encounter
A timeless being awakens, greeted by a blue moon. The awakening was not peaceful—she felt a disturbance—someone has infiltrated her sanctuary.
She's not surprised however; she'd waited for this. This woman moves with unnatural grace. Her feet unsoiled by the soil and stone beneath her feet.
It's the wizard, Jericho. His black hair and sharp eyes are unmistakeable.
The ghost had been extremely curious of this wizard. She kept an eye on nearly everyone in this school. She could see many things about a person in just a glance, even things that the person doesn't know or has yet to know.
She once kept an eye on the wizard during his first days here. And she, despite his unique predicament in the school, has noted him off, seeing nothing grand of his possible fates or past.
But then, something went wrong. Somehow, at one point in time, the wizard becomes blurred to her, his form like a smudged painting, impossible to be gazed and focused at. His past, present, and future, they're suddenly impossible to be read. The ghost, with all her magic and wisdom, cannot read this wizard. This unsettled her.
The most concerning thing is when she tried to peer into the boy's past for explanations. The answer she gets makes her even more confused.
She's seen this boy's past before, and she could swear his past now looks nothing like the one she's seen before. It's now smudged, broken, refitted; a maelstrom of memories that doesn't add up. In him are memories that such a young boy couldn't possibly have: memories of ages long gone, far from when he lives.
She has to find out why such a change could happen suddenly, so she'd peered into his memories to find out what made this change. And the answer horrified her.
So she gave the wizard a test to confirm her suspicion that he wields a new power. She started by giving him a piece of memory that, if truly he is a clairvoyant, he'll be able to see and it'll take him to the Blue Moon Abyss. She did this back when he traversed the Deepwoods with his two friends. The first step of her plan is complete.
Quietly, she moves towards him. A gust of wind follows her—the only clue that she's there. The boy shivers in reaction, but he shows no sign of having noticed her.
Now the ghost is right behind him. She reaches out and puts her hands to his head. Soon, darkness will surround him.
Now comes the second step of her plan.
Somewhere in the Blue Moon Abyss
Present day and time
The memories change four, five, and six times in a single beat of his heart. Jericho falls through all this memories without stop. Night turns to day in a blink of an eye. Finger freezing cold turns to a scorching desert's hot in a heart's beat. Ear splitting sounds turns to heart pounding silence in a single breath. He's thrown into one vision to the next without a single pause, without mercy. The world around him devolves into moving pictures too fast for his eyes to see, too fast for his body to understand and adjust, and too horrid for his heart to take. His head feels like it could split open at the pressure. Bile reaches the end of his throat, and all his senses feel heavy and stung by the unceasing change. They all scream—every organ in his body begs at him—telling him to stop. But he can't do anything. He covers his ears tightly and shut his eyes, but that doesn't work.
He think he screamed. He wasn't sure. He couldn't hear himself. Everything around him is too loud, but in a blink of an eye that would change to ear-ringing silence. All kinds of voices and noises, be they peaceful or loud crashes together into his ears in a glorious cacophony.
Out of all this madness, this pain, only one thing is still and certain: the ghost in the mirror. It stands beside him, passive to the violently changing memories around them, apathetic to the torment he's going through.
"Greater men have wanted this clairvoyance you have, only to be driven mad once their wish is granted", the ghost in the mirror says, her voice level, clear and crisp, a contrast to the chaos around them. To him it sounded like a sick joke, made to mock him in his torment.
The ghost watches the boy in silence as the memories around him descends into chaos. The boy can't react in any way other than to fall to his knees and writhe in a futile attempt to retreat from these nightmares.
"Make it stop". His voice was not a cry anymore, it was gentler than a whisper. A prayer. Jericho no longer shuts his eyes, knowing how futile it is. He could only stare emptily at the ever changing ground—from thick snow to mouldy stone steps—through teary eyes.
His vision was blurring, and his ears can't really hear what's around him, but in this miserable and vulnerable state, he finds something changing. It was slow at first, and he thought it was just his feeling, but soon he's sure. The memories are slowly stopping. They begin to slow in its change, until it stops completely.
Jericho's thrown back into the first memory he's in: his own room. He's literally thrown, landing on his chair with such force that it teeters and he falls into the floor. He didn't make any attempt to break his fall or to get up immediately, having no strength left to even move a muscle.
His room is still and unchanging, but his head won't stop spinning. His ears still ring and his eyes still sting. His breathing is laboured, hard painful grasps for air. They're the only thing audible so far in the room, aside from the constant soft humming the ghost seems to emanate from her mirror. His hair is all over his face, wet with sweat. And his hands, no, all his limbs are shuddering and his teeth chattering, as if he'd been at the top of a frozen mountain. To be fair, he was just in one in one of those violent memories.
Jericho lies prone on the floor, groaning, with his sweaty temple pressed on the floor. The idea of getting up from the floor hasn't even crossed his mind. He doesn't care. He hugs the wooden floor, fearing it'll disappear and change into a hostile place once again the moment he lets go. With wide pained eyes, he stares onto nothing.
How did it come to this?
Was this not supposed to be something good?
Something amazing?
Wasn't this supposed to be my blessing?
But it was not a gift. More than that, it was more like a punishment!
"Are you… trying to kill me?" the wizard coughs. "Why did you do that? To me?"
"There was no other way to make you see". The ghost's voice was as delicate as ever, but there's an unshakeable certainty in her voice. Not a single speck of doubt. Such self-certainty scares the wizard. "Would you still call this harmless? Would you want this power for yourself? Would you call this a blessing?"
"So all that to prove your point?" He pushes himself off the floor just enough so he can stare at the ghost. "You went too far".
"I went exactly as far as needed. Even then, I doubt I'd shown you enough". Her eyes narrow suspiciously. "Judging from those hateful, defiant eyes", she says. It only serves to make the wizard sharpen his glare.
He hopes that only his anger shows, and not his fear. What is she meaning? Is she not done yet with her punishment?
"Do not be fooled by your own desires and ambitions, wizard. They're delusions of grandeur. Greater men had been afflicted by clairvoyance like this just like you. Greater men had tried to triumph above it, to take their reins and conquer this challenge. Greater men had tried and failed. So do as you're told and destroy this clairvoyance—this black magic—inside of you".
His face grows dark. The world—down to its most minute details—feels like it slows to a crawl around him. "What?" his voice was shaky.
"Destroy it. I can show you how". Her voice is suddenly softer than before, losing the judgemental she's maintained. Caring. Benevolent. Pitying. He despises it even more. "You'll be rid of the dregs that invade your body now".
He doesn't allow his expression, nor voice, to soften like the ghost did. "I've a question for you". He raises a finger pointedly. "How long? How long until this clairvoyance digresses into a curse than a blessing?"
"In 21 months you'll begin to feel your control over your clairvoyance waning. But… it takes years for it to truly digress into chaos. It depends on the person".
"Then it could be far away. What if I'm… I don't know, better than others and could tank it?"
"It's a slippery slope, one you will not have the will to stop yourself from falling onto".
"But getting rid of the dregs mean I'll lose the ability to see their memories, no?"
The ghost's reply came after a subtle, but ultimately noticeable pause. "Unfortunately, yes". Her initial silence was the loudest answer she could've given.
Jericho's face turns black. He hangs his head to hide it. He shuts his eyes and inhales sharply. He grits his teeth as he slowly lifts his head to stare menacingly at the ghost. "Then I refuse. There must be another way".
"Another way for what?"
"Another way to keep this magic—"
"Foul magic", she corrects him, interrupting him. "Foul magic—not just any magic. You're suggesting you keep something so dangerous to yourself".
"I have time, as you said. I'll find a way".
"There is no other way". A frown crosses the ghost's face instantly. "I never took you to be the stubborn and reckless type".
Jericho clicks his tongue. "Don't act like you know who I am".
"But I simply do. You're much smarter than this, more cautious and calculating. You'd be first to think of the risks, to think of the end result and not the short-lived victories, to be pessimistic! Why do you change now? Why are you so single-minded now? Why is it so hard for you to change your mind, after what I've told and shown you?"
She's right. He hates it but she's right. I'm not stubborn. Not ever. But why am I now? I'm the first one to stop my friends from doing stupid, reckless things. I'm the first one who would follow the rules. I'm the first one who would reserve my wants and surrender to others' wants. So why can't I do that now? Why am I not myself right now? He's already offered an easy help out but he refused, preferring to be uncharacteristically stubborn. He can't even recognize himself. Why? What's making me so attached to this clairvoyance? What made me stay up all those nights reading blood magic? Black magic?
He's losing the fight in his eyes. The wizard hangs his head once more, clenching his teeth in frustration.
Time passes, and in a sudden stroke he got it, his answer. He came to a moment of clarity, crisp and clear between the ocean of emotions inside him. I know why. In a second, he receives that clarity and allows his emotions to return and engulf him, like a fierce ocean wave swallowing a once quiet coast.
A dark flame shimmers in his eyes, refusing to be extinguished by his fears and doubts. Glaring, he clenches his fists and no matter how they still quiver, forces them to support him until he's seated on the floor. "I know why it's hard. I know why I'm fighting for it!"
He realizes this is the first time he'd ever raised his voice against the ghost. It felt liberating.
The ghost watches the boy silently through unreadable eyes, studying every inch of his being, trying to read him beyond just his words. Her scrutinizing gaze would've toppled him, but after everything she's put him through, this is nothing.
"It's because this thing you call a curse gave me a blessing. It gave me something that made me feel special. It's just… exhilarating to have something, anything, no one else has. And I can't just let that go!"
"You wouldn't understand. Someone as powerful as you..." he chuckles cynically. "How could you ever know the feeling of being weak for your entire life?"
He slowly drifts into a pause. His eyes too drift downward until he's staring at the floor. What he's going to say next is going to be difficult, as when he resumes, he does so with a much quieter, ashamed voice. "I'm... I'm often envious of others, ghost. But when I had those dreams, I thought I'm finally someone better than others, and it made me happy. And I'm a better person when I'm happy. I can tell from my friends, how they talk differently and react differently to me. I feel that magic's effect not just practically. It's making me… just a better person".
To his disbelief, the ghost doesn't respond or interrupt him in his long stretch of talking. It seemed as if she doesn't know what to say. But that can't be true, right? She's wise. She knows about everything.
She replies only eventually. "I had a hard time grasping it at first, but I'm starting to understand this feeling of yours. This envy". Her expression softens. Unluckily the wizard didn't get to see this with his downcast eyes. "I understand you need to be special, but is it truly worth your health? You're loved, wizard. By your family, your friends, your acquaintances even. They don't need you to be special for them to love you, so forgive me if I can't understand why you need this magic".
"You don't know that", he mutters. "What you said about everyone".
"But I do, don't I?" she says amusedly. "They'd hate to see you push yourself till you injure yourself. If they're all here, they'd tell you to let go, purge the black magic inside you. You would be the only person that wants yourself to be special. In their eyes, you're good enough already".
"Don't", Jericho growls, voice deep and seething like nothing the ghost has heard before. It's sudden enough to cut off the ghost mid-sentence and astound her. He looks up to meet the ghost with red eyes, tears welling on the corners. He must've nearly cried somewhere before. But there's a dark look in those black orbs that accompanies those tears. "Good enough—I hate that word so much—it just oozes so much pity".
"I hear that over and over again I'm sick of it. They always say that when they try to comfort me, to make me see the bright side, to make me accept that my weaknesses are ok because I'm not an actual wizard. They always think it's brilliant and comforting to hear that but let me tell you it sucks! They all sound so pitying, that its alright for me, just me, to be garbage compared to others!"
With deep vitriol dripping from each syllable, he growls, "You don't get to say I'm good enough. No one gets to say that. I'm good enough only when I say so".
Every end of his nerves feels hot. It feels terrible. He can't remember the last time he'd spoken with such hatred and to whom. "It's still a thousand years too early for me to say I'm good enough. But this…"
He brings his right hand up and glance at it, at the healed wound that was exploited by the bloodstone. The words he wanted to say was right there at the tip of his tongue, but he thin his lips and let seconds pass. He blinks—a single teardrop falling onto his hand—and the dark look in his eyes dissipates, replaced with a distant and wistful look. He clenches that hand. Now he resumes with a voice so gentle it's nearly a whisper. "This magic might just help shorten those years. Not much, but enough to make them bearable".
Jericho felt a great weight off his chest the moment he finished, for it was—all of them—the truth, from the bottom of his heart. And it felt good to say the truth. He felt naked, exposed, vulnerable, having laid everything off him bare on the ground for all to see. Himself, included. He felt clarity because of that, being able to see all that. Everything made more sense to him suddenly. It felt like when he explained everything to the ghost, he was actually explaining everything to himself. He understands himself more now, like he's the receiving end of his rant all along.
That must be why his days felt off, why he felt like he's a stranger to himself for so long; he didn't even understand himself. Not until now. And now he understood how pathetic he is. How desperate he is for something that'll save him from his misery that he'd resort to such...
"So you do wish for such power", the ghost concludes. Such straightforward question surprised the wizard out of his gloom.
He'd also just noticed her surprised face. It'd been there, this whole time he's pouring his heart out, but he didn't notice with his eyes cast downward. It surprised him even further. It's a very rare, human look in her otherwise inhumanly beautiful but jaded face.
In this stupefied state, he nearly speaks his answer—he nearly nodded—but he managed to shut his mouth in the very last second. He realized just in time that this is no longer the time to be emotional. He really, really needs to use his head again to think of his answers, much to his chagrin.
It felt easy speaking without thinking. It's a good break from his usual routine of filtering everything he says to not offend or make enemies or make the wrong, embarrassing responses. He wishes he could do it more often.
Jericho rubs the last tears from his eyes and starts, "I wish for this kind of power". He knew he thought of this answer before saying it, but why does it feel like an incredibly stupid move now that he says it? Whatever, no turning back. "I still want to be special".
"Even though it's dangerous for yourself? I can't just let you walk out of her and live your life like a ticking bomb".
The wizard frowns. His voice is low and tired. The exhaustion is catching up to him. "I know, but… is there really no other way?" slowly, his body slumps. He just wants to sprawl on the floor and pray the ghost will agree with him already. It would be too exhausting to go on a lengthy argument again.
To his surprise, the ghost also shares his silence. The silence that follows felt like torture in itself. His heart beat feels like the ticking hand of a clock, moving back and forth, each swing reminding him how long the silence is lasting.
But then he hears something breaking the silence. The constant hum from the ghost seems to have grown louder out of a sudden. He glances up and realizes the green glow the ghost always emanates grows stronger as well. The boy reacted to this, flinching and dragging himself away from the light, but he stops retreating when he feels the warmth and calmness of the light on his skin. It benevolently envelops his hand and continues throughout his body, and it even spreads around his room. They feel good. It feels like its healing him in more ways than one. He thought this is nothing more than a trick of his mind, but no, he can tell there's something real with this light; it heals him not only of the ails of his body but of his mind. Quite physically, he feels his mind feel easier and his breathing smoother.
"What?" he looks up to the ghost. "Why?"
Jericho swallows when he sees the ghost narrowing her eyes. He saw in them disdain. Such juxtapose puzzled him so much it pulled him out of his sorry state.
"You're despicable", the ghost hisses.
Huh?!
The insult came out of nowhere and so out of character. Indeed, the surprise isn't the insult itself—partially due to him agreeing with the insult—but more on the delivery.
Luckily for him she's not done yet.
"Enviable".
Huh?
"And ungrateful. There's so many beautiful things about you, but you're too blind, too greedy to be grateful to have them". The ghost sighs tiredly. It made him anxious. "That's why… I, want to help you".
That made his mind stop. The distant and nostalgic look in her eyes doesn't help him be less surprised either. "W-wait, hold on just a... you're helping me? You're— seriously?"
The ghost nods. "You remind me of someone". Her voice is gentle, and a bit sad. Like a grey wave in the morning beach, breaking softly at the sands. For some reason, unlike before, he's sure there will be no roaring waves this time. The ocean is quiet for good. "The incredible thing about this world is that no matter how long you spend studying it, you'll still find yourself learning every day. Despite my vast knowledge and senses, I made mistakes. I make mistakes. And I don't intend to repeat my mistakes".
Since the beginning the distinction between the boy and the ghost was vast; one was living one was not, one was expressive the other jaded, and one has knowledge beyond knowledge and the other just a mere human. But what she said—her small admission of a mistake often found in humans—changes the way the boy sees the ghost.
Jericho realizes he'd been gawking at her. He blinks repeatedly and shakes his head out of the clouds. This shouldn't be what he's surprised at. "And… that made you want to help me?" he asks cautiously.
And help me how, exactly? You haven't said how. Will it favour me or you? Much to his chagrin, he can't just ask her this, not with the generosity she's starting to show. He must hold back his cautiousness for now.
The ghost nods. "Back then I was blinded—apathetic—I did nothing. I see many similarities between you two. I truly hope helping instead of ignoring you will work for".
He doesn't really know what to make of that. Should I ask who that poor person is?
"I'll help you if you're willing to help yourself". She closes her eyes for a moment, and when they open, the distant nostalgic look is gone, replaced with determination. "There is another way to save you from these memories, one that won't rid you of it".
He couldn't believe what he heard at first. Any remaining concern for that mysterious person disappears at the news. "Seriously?! Then why didn't you tell me this since the beginning?" the wizard felt a chuckle coming out of his sentence. Joy fills his eyes instantaneously.
"I didn't say this because it's nearly impossible to achieve it. This world's magic is dying, decaying—that spell to save you is gone—there's no spell left in this world that could counter or relieve the parasites now growing within you".
She delivers bad news as sudden as she does good news. This ghost! He shouldn't have expected much courtesy from a ghost with a heart as dead as herself to begin with. He nearly sighed, but considering the good news she brought, he does so internally.
"The catch, then. What is it?"
"There is no 'catch', in a manner of speaking…"
This is going to be something explained in difficult English, won't it? He braces his ears, prepared for another round of cryptic and complex explanation from the ghost that will confuse him more after he heard him
But then, a very surprising thing happens. She smiles. A smile tugs at the edge of the ghost's lips. The right kind of smile, not the mocking or sinister one. "Magic is leaving this world, but that can change", she says through that smile. "That will change".
He expected an explanation immediately, but he's even further puzzled when instead the ghost looks up towards the ceiling, looking at something distant. Her lips lightly parts as she looks up with a nearly childlike awe in her eyes.
The wizard follows her gaze. His eyes immediately went wide.
There's no ceiling to his room. Instead, above is an endless vista of the night sky, as if someone just put a hole on his entire ceiling. Distant stars illuminate the darkness, beacons of warmth and benevolence to what would've otherwise been a cold and heartless darkness.
The wizard's lips, too, parts slightly as he looks in awe at the sublime scene. He staggers and nearly falls on his back as he keeps looking up. Ghost and wizard speaks not a word as they both look up, both seemingly sharing the same sense of wonder as they stare at the same sky and be awed by the same stars.
After all he'd seen tonight, this is the best thing he's seen. All the troubles and hardships and difficult feelings he felt tonight feels like they're being slowly washed away, replaced with a feeling of awe and sublimity that trumps anything else. His past despair felt like a physical injury—with its aches and pains—that this scenery heals. Or was it the healing light that did this? Honestly, he doesn't care which. All he knows is that he's feeling better now.
"7 stars", the ghost remarks to end her silence. Her voice is distant, like she, too, is distracted with what she's watching to properly be in the conversation. Its things like this, like her smile earlier and the awe in her eyes right now and even the unpleasant emotions she showed before that makes her feel more human to the wizard. It reminds him that he's talking to a person, or at least someone who used to be one, not just an incomprehensible and timeless being that he can't understand or relate with. It's a weirdly comforting but awkward feeling.
It wasn't hard for him to find what she's referring to. 7 stars does indeed shine the strongest up above, forming a recognizable dipper shape. Suddenly, their glow burns stronger, and before the wizard could rub his eyes, the 7 stars fall from the sky towards his room.
He recoils and backs away on the floor. The stars' descent however slows as they near the room until they finally rest completely in the centre of the room, floating between him and the ghost. Both their eyes are fixated on the now earthbound stars.
The boy, seeing how harmless they are, slowly stands up from where he sits to watch the seven stars more closely. The ghost watches the boy in amusement as he reaches out and touch the stars. His hand recoils numerous times as they make contact, but resumes confidently once he feels no pain touching them. In fact, they feel warm to the touch, and… soft? They feel solid, but he's sure if he clutches it hard enough his hand would squeeze it thin, if that makes any sense.
"There is what's called the Grand Triskellion, left in this world by the 9 Olde Witches, so that one day hope and magic can be returned to the world". The ghost explains. A distant look enters her eyes, gone when she blinks. "Any door requires a key".
The seven stars join together, its light forming together into a long, solid object. The light expands, forcing the boy to shield his eyes. When he uncovers them, a staff has manifested between him and the ghost, with those same seven stars embedded into them but with a gem-like appearance, more solid. They seem to have dimmed. The overall object looks solid, no doubt, but still, as he tries to reach it, the staff breaks away in his hands. This reminds him he's not in the waking world but perhaps another memory altered by the ghost.
It would explain the ceiling. It's time to stop gawking at the ceiling. He looks at his hand, then at the staff again. Why does this staff look familiar? Where have I seen it before? His thoughts are interrupted as the ghost speaks again.
"This is the key to the salvation of magic". She gazes at the boy, her brows arch in amusement. "And now it's your salvation as well". One of the gems, the one at the bottom-most, begins to shine. It now shines like it did back when it's a star. "7 gems to represent 7 stars, 7 stars to represent 7 words, 7 words that will become one key to open the Grand Triskellion, the final spell that will return the world to magic".
"Grand Triskellion", the boy echoes.
His heart beats quicker as the ghost's voice grows stronger and stronger. Her voice is like a burning torch, every word searing deeply into his memories. Tempest grows inside those green orbs of hers, unblinking, always focused on the boy. "The wielder of this rod has the power to unlock it. All they need to do is to find the meanings of the words and recite it". One by one, the gems echo with their own lights, up until the 6th gem. Aside from being brighter, this one shines in yellow, as opposed to the previous gems' green. "This is the 6th word: Lyonne—thank you. As it stands, it's the most powerful healing spell in this earth. If truly, you want another way, then I will graciously offer you my help through this Word".
She won't interrupt him now. She wants this sense of hope to last in the boy. She looks at him, currently fixated at the 6th star floating between his hands. "This can help me?" he asks, voice brewing with awe and disbelief."This is the other way?"
A frown crosses her face. She makes it disappear quickly before he looks up and catches it. "It's the only other way. It'll save you from doom, but won't steal you of your dreams".
He frowns. The ghost managed to catch it before he tries to hide it by looking away from her and back at the Claiomh Solais. "Why didn't you tell me about it sooner?" he asks. Though he levelled his voice perfectly, his eyes betrayed him; they cry suspicion.
The ghost didn't waste a second to reply. "Because, as I said, this spell doesn't yet exist. Allow me to explain". She spreads her hands wide. "The 7 Words of Arcturus requires each words to be unlocked in order. To reach the 6th word could take years. There's a risk that the words would be unlocked too late and you'll run out of time. After all, the first champion was stuck for years when she's trying to find the 7th word. I… feared you wouldn't accept to purge the black magic inside you right here and right now if I immediately told you there's another way, a riskier way that you'd pursuit regardless due to your love for the new magic you found. Forgive me, wizard. I judged wrongly. Now I believe you're capable of the challenge".
The wizard refuses to look at the ghost at first, only darting glances her way and away immediately. But eventually he relents. The uncertainty leaves his eyes with a deep inhale, and he nods. "Fair enough".
While what she said cleared things up, it also brought an uncomfortable truth: this spell is far from his reach; a 6th key out of 7. He's anxious to hear what exactly unlocks the words up to the 6th.
"Only the first word is unlocked, thus far".
He was deep in thought. He didn't register what she said until a few seconds pass. When he did, his jaw instantly drops. "Not yet completed… only one so far?" He repeats in disbelieve, twice, thrice. Blinking. "Well then that means… you mean, someone is already unlocking these words?!"
The ghost nods. "The Claiomh Solais is not owned by just one person. It's had another master once, and many of the words have been unlocked in her time. But they're lost when the wielder failed to complete her mission". The ghost pauses and hangs her head slightly as if to pay respect to an old memory. "Now, the rod just recently found its champion again. That champion has unlocked the first word not too long ago, and I believe she will not stop unlocking the next words".
Hope and awe fills the boy's heart. He's not in this alone. He won't even need to be the one to unlock the words. Just who is this mysterious saviour? "I-I thought these word things are something lost completely! You made it sound like it!"
"In a sense the 6th word is still lost as of now, but yes, it's not completely. Due forgive. I must've poorly worded it".
"No, no, never mind that!" the boy waves his hands about excitedly. He doesn't realize that a smile has already grown on his face. "T-then we have to ask her to unlock it and heal me, right? Who's she? Tell me, tell me, ghost!"
The light in the mirror changes. Like a rock thrown into a calm pond, the mirror's image shifts and changes, from the form of the ghost to a form of a short kid. A girl. He feels his jaw drop at the familiar sight of brown hair and red eyes.
The ghost declares, "The current wielder of the Claiomh Solais, the one chosen to unlock the 7 words: Atsuko Kagari. You know of her".
He couldn't speak a word at first. He could only stare, unblinking, at the image of Akko, and the unmistakeable rod her image holds in her hands. He wonders if this is a mistake, or a trick of the light. But those crimson eyes and chestnut brown hair, and that name, is no mistake. This is Akko.
"Akko? H-how?" he gasps. He uses his hands to cover his gaping mouth. The mirror's image shifts and turns until it settles in the form of the ghost once again.
He's struck with silence. For a moment his eyes went somewhere else.
He looks up to the ghost again. "Is this a trick?" his voice is muffled by his hands.
The ghost shows no sign of being humorous. She shakes her head, seemingly pitying his denial attitude. "No, child. I speak the truth". He couldn't check the ghost's features for lies; she's only capable of a few expressions so far, and so little of them he can actually read.
The wizard frowns. "You're saying that toy wand of hers is the real deal? The actual Claiomh Solais? The key to the most powerful magic is in that idiot's…"
He forces himself to stop. She doesn't feel like a champion to such magic. Heck, that idiot isn't a champion of anything at all! He wanted to say more but he knows when to stop his tongue. His doubt-filled eyes however might betray him.
The ghost's face turns to an ugly scowl. Her eyes red with wrath. She growls at him. "It is in that 'idiot's' hands that your key to salvation lies!". Her voice is hauntingly different and loud, like thousands of voices smashed together into one. The light around her changes to a furious red and its soft hum turns to constant roaring, no longer comforting him. "She holds the Claiomh Solais! It's already settled. Do not question this, ever!"
The wizard backs away, face blanched white. For a second, he felt like he returned to those damned memories, or about to. But the nightmarish memories never came. The ghost does continue, but her anger subsides visibly and audibly. She does however still seem very upset at him. Disappointed even.
"She has the power to unlock the words. I advise you to hold no more animosity towards the girl, Franklin. The words unlocked must be from the heart. You can't force the words, no less the person, to say those words. How do you intend to have her say a heartfelt thank you to you if you still think her below you?"
The fear hasn't yet left him. What a reaction! And what a sudden change. The wizard frowns. "I-I didn't mean to…"
I don't understand at all why Akko's got the rod. I was pretty negative about her, but it's not like I was rejecting her! Is it wrong for me to have doubt that I got such a reaction from the ghost?
If he's talking with a person he would've argued. If he didn't know better he would've defended his point. But now he knows better; he's not in the position to argue. As far as he's concerned, he knows nothing. What's his logic compared to a timeless ghost?
I suppose rejecting the fact that one's a champion is a terrible thing, then. I guess I can't change that.
"S-sorry. I was mistaken", he eventually says, head hung low in some sort of a bow. "It's arrogant of me to distrust you. If you say Akko's the one, then she is the one. Forgive me".
Please don't be mad. Please don't be mad. He tries his best to hide his fear as he glances up to the ghost.
The ghost nods lightly, her features easing. Her light mellows down, reverting to its comforting green hue and soft hum. "I'm glad you see reason", she says. He releases a long held breath.
Jericho was surprised to see a thin but sorrowful frown appear on such a jaded face. "Not everyone could see reason as you did", the ghost says.
He's surprised for sure, but he's glad he's not the reason for her frown anymore. Someone must've had the guts to argue against this ghost's reasoning. Guts and brains, I suppose. Someone must be super smart to argue against this thing. I do not want! That was terrible enough of a reaction from the ghost. Seriously, rejecting the champion of the rod must be that bad then!
In an effort to pick up the conversation again, he starts awkwardly, "So, anyway, ghost, only the rod's champion can do anything? Only Akko can help me?"
"Correct. This is why you must not be on her bad side; if she chooses, she can deny you from your salvation. Even if that's a very unlikely thing for her to do, it's possible".
The boy looks uncertain. "You mean, in order for me to be saved, I only need Akko to say 'thank you' to me?
Much to the boy's surprise, the ghost seemed surprised by his question. It was a pleasant surprise. This he could tell by the smile that's breaking her previously frowning visage.
She tilts her head as she fondly looks at the boy. "You'll be surprised to see how difficult it is to make someone thank you from the bottom of their heart. It only makes hearing it all the more rewarding".
Gone is her anger, replaced by a warm look in her eyes that lifts his spirits up. He should've felt good, but something made him reject this comfortable feeling.
The wizard can't stand looking at her directly, quickly throwing his gaze away the moment their eyes meet. "There's something else, though", the boy says awkwardly. He intertwines his fingers and bring them to his mouth. "How do i say this?"
"Let's pretend that, hypothetically, I don't like Akko too much because she's annoying and all that. Wouldn't it feel wrong to suddenly be nice to her because I need her help? If that makes any sense". He timidly pulls at his sleeve. A small blush grows on his cheeks. "You said the words must be unlocked with a genuine feeling, an honest heart. The problem's not with Akko, but with me. I don't think I can make that happen. This is hypothetical, for science. Honest".
"Oh, Jericho". The ghost sounded like she chuckled at the end. Chuckled! Did his ears deceive him? "The fact that you worry about how your feelings could be fake is enough of a sign that you're a good person".
He blushes even more. Just get to the point, he thought miserably.
"You can say all you want about how indifferent you are to her, or how uncharming she is to you, but that'll change—you'll change. You'll change your way of seeing her by the end of this. Your feelings for her will be genuine, just as hers will towards you", the ghost says surely, her warm smile ever present.
He wish he had his hat. He'd very much like it to bury his blushing face in it immediately. "Just stop", he grumbles, but it's so quiet it barely reached the ghost.
It only managed to make her smile even more fondly. "I've no clear foresight of your future, Jericho, but I cannot be more certain that you'll be a better person by the end of all this".
Jericho eyes widen slowly as he hears those words. Those words might just be the one of the nicest and encouraging thing he's heard said to him. And that it's from such a wise ghost that knows answers no one does that says it… it meant the world to him.
He blushes, again. He tries to look at the ghost in her eyes, but he can't last a second without darting his eyes away. Stupefied, he has to snap himself out of his daze to make a reply. "W-well, if that's the case then I suppose I have no choice but to believe you". He forces the blushing out of him by glaring at the ghost. It's not intimidating in any way, only working to make him look more adorable. "But only because you said I'm going to be better! I'm not agreeing to work together with her because I'm naïve and thinking I'm a good person. It's just because you said so!"
He shoves his hands into his pockets. He descends into an awkward, blushing silence for a few heartbeats, rocking on his heels. "So tell me what I'm supposed to do", he says, finally looking at her.
The ghost nods pleasantly, ready to move the topic on. "A friend in need is a friend indeed; if you wish for her to say the sixth word, to you, genuinely, you need to be her friend first. The quickest way to that is by helping her. Unfortunately it would be difficult for you to be of any use for her with your limited knowledge on the Words. But I've told you that Akko is not its first champion; that the person before her have tried but failed. Luckily for us, she's successfully unlocked the sixth word before she gave up".
Surprised, his hand moves to rub his chin. "So you're saying I can learn from her mistakes and make Akko do better?"
"Yes", the ghost nods.
"And how do we learn from the first champion? Now that I think about it, I've never heard of her. From where can I learn?"
"Your journey to do that consists of many steps". An amused smile crosses her face. "You already did the first step perfectly".
The ghost extends her hand. Beside him, the desk's shelf slides open and a wooden box flies out of it. Jericho tracks the box as it flies towards him. It unlocks itself mid-air and its content falls out. The boy quickly catches the red bloodstone with his good hand.
"Ghost?" the boy asks nervously. "Why am I holding the thing that started all this?"
"It will be your tool. Your weapon. Just as Kagari has her Claiomh Solais". The ghost's eyes drift away, towards nostalgia. "I have the luck to have witnessed thousands of lifetimes. But I'm especially lucky to have been able to witness the life of our first champion".
The boy lifts his eyes to see the ghost. To his surprise, despite him being the one who caught the stone, in the mirror, the ghost seems to have the stone in her hand as well. She brings her hand above the stone. Without warning, a miniscule gash suddenly appears at the tip of her finger. The boy cringes and watches in stunned silence as blood, ethereal and green, spill from the small wound. The ghost allows a single drop of her blood into the stone.
He checks his own stone and is shocked to see it changing. The stone's deadly crimson colour begins to stir and swirl, and slowly, a new colour emerges from the centre, like a drop of water just went inside the stone. It's a green and ethereal liquid—it's the ghost's blood—her essence is now inside the stone.
He just realized that the colour red or white he saw all this time in the stone is not its surface, rather what's inside the stone. It made more sense now.
The green ethereal blood stirs, repelling the sickly red blood until it destroys them completely. The green ethereal blood now settles triumphantly in the stone, not another colour in sight.
"I know I normally detest this old saying, just due to irrational it could be at times, but I can't think of any other sayings ever that would go with what I want you to do: fight fire with fire". A thoroughly serious look takes her face as she gives him his mission. "If we can't stop the dregs in your body from taking over your mind and boy now, then we'll just use them to our advantage".
"I don't follow, ghost" he says as he looks up. "I thought you're the one that's insisting that my clairvoyance is dangerous?"
"I'm not saying it's no longer dangerous. It still is. We can do nothing about the dregs before the 6th word is unlocked, but we also can't make it worse. So if we use this clairvoyance only for the sake of progressing the unlocking of the words, then there's nothing wrong with it".
"This can help me progress the words?" he muses as he glances at the green stone.
"You've understood that the memories of the deceased inside the stone now runs in your head because the dregs of their blood runs inside you. All I did was add my own blood into the stone so that you can see my memories, just as how those other memories are yours to see".
It's like a cannon has been fired in the distance. "Your memories? But that's…
"It's only of the briefest years where I witnessed the life and struggles of our first champion", she explains quickly. "Those will be enough for you to be able to help Kagari".
Good God. That's why she only allowed a drop of her blood in.
"My blood will make this stone a blessing instead of a curse. My blood—my memories—that's what I'm borrowing you". Woodward points towards the wizard. Her light glows stronger and her voice shakes his very being. If she'd said it in a whisper it still would've left him stunned as he is now. "Jericho Franklin Jr. What I want from you is very, very simple: use my memory to walk beside the first champion. Learn from her, so that Kagari can learn from you!"
His heart beats furiously. This is unbelievable. It can't be, can't it? No, don't get yourself too excited now, Franklin. But it definitely sounds like…
"Ghost, hold on", he says, calming down. "What you're saying is… is…" his face scrunches up as he tries to say something difficult. Before he could complete his question however, the stone on his hand begins to glow even stronger with iridescent energy. His attention is forced into it.
"Oh, and one more thing", the ghost speaks again. He looks up to her with wide eyes. "We've yet one more thing to do before we part. That is to allow my blood to enter your systems, just as those dregs needed to enter your body first before they could take effect".
He didn't get to process what he's heard, nor time to resume his question. The stone continues to grow brighter. Much to his alarm, he begins to feel it vibrate between his fingers.
"To do that, I have to cast a blood spell from the stone. Sorry. But if we're casting any blood spell, then we might as well make it a good one".
All thoughts of his previous questions disappear as a new big one comes. "Wait, a blood spell?!" he looks up to the ghost in horror. "What kind of spell?"
"A good one", she answers, her tone and face conveniently (for her) reverting back to her jaded tone and expression.
Are you kidding—
He didn't get to say his protests before the stone explodes in a cacophony of colours and sounds. Iridescent light envelops Jericho's entire vision and an ear shattering ringing fills his hearing. Everything went white after that.
Author's Note: and finally we're here. The beginning of everything.
It's difficult delivering this chapter. I started working on this on 4000 words but end up with 8000. I really do hope it makes it better. I'm really conscious on writing too long chapters and hope I can do better in making things more effective. It's something I'm trying to learn still.
I can't promise the next chapters will come quickly. End-term exams are coming and I'll be busy with other travel-related things. I will work on writing, though, that's for sure.
Next chapter will have our protagonist stranded in a time and place we're all familiar with but never receiving much detail of: Blytonbury, and of course, Luna Nova, during Chariot's youthful days there.