The usual darkness hovers in its silent way, the very essence of the fabric which constitutes Tharja's room. Candles whisper their small noise, while her cauldron boils the purple liquid, the aroma of broken down rose and orchid mixed with the fetid smell of rat's guts spread throughout the room. The heat radiates the whole room, unbearable as a desert at the peak of the day. There is not a place to escape or hide, the door locked with the keys in Tharja's hands, more precisely sitting beside sheets of brand new and murky papers.
This time her body doesn't betray her face, every single movement is calculated to the exact beat. One of the hands scribing down the flawless flows of her calligraphy, the wavy form of the letter stamping the message of the other one grips a knife with a blade as black as the night, a dark green miasma shimmers, impregnated into metal, buzzing like a wasp ready to attack. A ballet of thoughts in her mind, the spirits psychographic their untranslated message into the world.
The lines once painted in a deep shade of navy blue turn into glowing purple, the barely contained energy overflowing, sparking into oblivion. As if this was gasoline on fire, it slowly slithers its way in the taint of the lines, limited only by the unclaimed beige pages, incapable of growing outside its own confined borders. Revealing unreadable shapes, unknown and forgotten, but only remembered by those studying it. The forms coalesce in the center into a small bonfire, shining more brighter than any other light source in the room, the flames blazing calmly, serene, and unmolested by any force.
Little by little, the candles are silenced by the wind, ceasing the little croaks in the air, the breeze responsible for extinguishing it, carrying the message from the bonfire. The room gets darker as the focus diminishes from the entirety to just a few. Bed, cauldron, the floor engulfed by the gloom, the spectator of what is going to happen next. Only visible the desk, the purple fire, and Tharja, The only actors important to the act.
Standing before Tharja, my right arm and hands are extended above the mellow fire. Sweat soaks my face and palm, which tremble with the uncertainty of the act. Eyes strained trying to discern forms under the murkiness of the room, while the purple light blinds me, the pain of discerning the two upholds the room. Despite the flames, it doesn't burn whatsoever with a lack of sensation of heat in my hand. There is only dread for what comes next.
"The world rises down, shadows form, the unknown void filling it. We are but children born out of this void. Raised in between the peaks of faith. The climb leads us to the peak, the clouds bloom in the sky, and yet no answer is given. The sky rejects anyone who isn't blind, the return to the shadows is a must, into the darkness dwells the meaning, the truth of every being, to one discover, one must embrace the clouds shading our birth", Tharja recites the intoxicating message,
Without any warning, the knife slashes my palm. From the little cut, blood oozes and shines, sludging through the lines in my palms to fall at the papers. The fire gets bigger by the dripped red fuel, slowly engulfing the papers, burning it. Smoke comes out of it as it becomes the sole noticeable feature at the desk, shining ever bright, a part of the flame readying to taste my skin.
My once trembling body is paralyzed by the events transcribed. The dry saliva coming to my throat in a futile attempt to calm the pain in the neck, my eye twitch, while gazing at Tharja as the next, as I await her's next movement, anxiety consuming my body. She stops looking at the bonfire and locks her gaze at me, eyes staring my own, reflecting my small frame.
"Is there any worth in following the line?" Tharja drops the question. The flame rises and engulfs my hand, heat I don't feel.
It seems it wasn't as bad as I imagined.
I try to move my fingers throughout my body, and yet I don't feel anything as if it never existed… Oh no, oh no no no no! I open my mouth as I prepare to scream. Nothing comes, not even a single pitch. I can only watch in horror as my senses are robbed. Slowly spreading through my arms, erasing out of my existence, only a shining rod of meat and bone. Then it crawls towards my chest as if it is a sentient being, suffocating me as the sensation of any air is lost. The lack of a heartbeat is dizzying, making me almost throw up at every moment. There is no heat nor cold, stolen by the starved blaze. As it crawls to my head and my existence is erased, I can only think "why" as at last the world becomes void.
...
Who am I? There is only nothing and the only thing it ever existed is nothing. Nothing emerged from anything, it is what is. Void, empty, and uncaring, and this it. There is no answer, no question, a null of reality. Just a desert upon a desert, devoid of anything. this is it. What to expect? Nothing will change or will change. This message being sent was sent by no one, as by then I never existed. The most perfect of existence, there is calm and peace, and as the world rejoices. There isn't order nor chaos, it simply never existed. Why go out of this place…
This is the void, the only thing that exists and doesn't exist at the same. Is it all there is to the world? Really, what else could it be, there is not a point of any of it and never really existed. I never tasted, heard, felt, or sensed anything. There is only calm and relief, and yet… is this really it, just emptiness? Nothing more? What a disappointment… why maintain my hopes towards something so pointless?... No, there must be something more! Even as insignificant as a mere single particle of dust in the middle of the nill. Thoughts flood me, the tide coming. If I want to truly understand something, even if it is non-existent, therefore I must doubt
Why is it so dark here? If there is really nothing in this world why do I keep doubting? Are there any particles in the air? Why do I keep feeling and spelling words I should know? Why so many why? Sweet doubt, what is the world without you? A mindless exercise? Maybe. But what is thought without you? Nothing, that is what is the thought without you. The world is empty, but if doubt comes, reality and unreality isn't more of an empty place isn't it? if it is more than an empty vessel, this shouldn't be existing, nothing exists, and yet… if it exists more than this?
If I doubt, there must be something to hold it. A vessel worthy of holding such thought, and if there is a doubt, something must have created somehow. Doubt doesn't come out anywhere, it's a process of creation where beings question everything. And as the sea of doubt swarms, questioning every single detail existing into a world where nothing stands, and besides the thoughts, what it is? Therefore I must think…
Oh, thoughts, the muse of existence, and the enemy of nonexistence. The food of the conscious mind, the enabler of existence, and the mother of all senses. All could be the great things of reality, books, music, living without a drop of it, the process we live by.
If one must think, something needs to exist. The perceptions and conscious needs to exist realities aren't empty, and yet are uncertain. But between everywhere thought, doubt and mind, a sapient is needed, a being capable of holding this mind, a creator, no, a categorizer, the being who doubts, therefore thinks and so. Therefore I am!
The rifts between the planes occur. Particles of light making tears out of this dark void, dust appearing, beautiful trails leading to nowhere, but my head is created out of these insignificant particles, may be brought out of my stubborn refusal to conform into this state of non-reality. Bigger fragments emerge out of the holes made by the energy. The fine line between reality and no existence begins to blur, merging together to form an incohesive union, a failed matrimony. My body starts to appear, my arms, legs, and chest assembling together, the flesh and yet… I could feel nothing, only the presence of the being, the world standing still in this void.
Centimeter by centimeter, upon this failed union, the void is replaced by a white light. Only figments remaining, my body falls into the floor, as I lift my head to see only Emptiness just pure unadulterated white. The feet still touching the unknown, one could say this is a perfect torture room, but you never know.
I aimlessly walk in the new "void", indifferent as to the other one. Did anything really change after that? all this whole dramatic thing was for nothing? I have a body now and I can feel things now, I guess? Boredom comes to me, there is nothing to do, see or watch. So I sit down and wait for something to happen. Time barely moves, stuck into the rhythm of nothing, the nauseating feeling of non-resolved inertia comes to me, where is it possible it could come?
Before I can close my eyelids, I decide for just one last time to focus on something dumb. I imagine a random dot in the non-existent walls nothing happens, and yet I continue, what I have to lose? Little by little, small particles of sand pop out, making a small trail where the light flashes through it, flowing in the air, indifferent to the external. Winds blowing where there wasn't before, a refreshing difference to this world. Sand communicates with each order, some fall down, while the rest intermingle with each other to birth a sandstorm and dunes layering the ground. While this happens something unexpected also happens. Grey grains appear revolting against the sandy new order.
What follows is the fight of the particles, a ballet of two forces. Shockwaves of grains exploding left and right. The wind coordinating in the tactics and strategy. At the end of their battle, the artificial win the battle, the loser moving his dune and elsewhere if it was a living being, the plans of concrete now being put in practice in the now empty part of this world.
Old buildings birth out of the ground, as structure arises from nothing, and metal foundations laid readying themselves the new overlords. The particles mixed, the carcass being regenerated unto the composition of their inner organs, a hard shell of protection into this world. Edifices proudly standing into the world, unbeatable and unbreakable, as they form a forest of concrete.
As this happens, new grounds emerge to reflect their new overlords and erase any trace of the existence of the other. The once soft feel of sand changing to painful and hard asphalt spurting out of the ground, black as oil. Vehicles popping out of nowhere, cars, buses, and bikes. The elements of the new landscape. Then a green dot emerges into the ashen walls of one of the buildings.
Even despite its size, it sprouted in the building. Slithering his roots along sucking the nutrients of the limestone and gravel rotting the structure, as the lead and flowers bloom to the white sky. As to follow their leader, others germinate and create a forest in the sky. Collapses come to the unbreakable formation, the pressure of the parasites way more powerful than they thought. They fall as if they were man, flinching, the crack made by the plant being the cause of it. As the particles explode upon the crumbling down of their life, only a few are left in the aftermath. As if they were one, the plants fund each other to create one massive vegetable ribcage without a heartbeat.
Without any warning, a splitting sound comes, the ground quaking under the massive soundscape of the world giving birth to rock. A mountain-shape obelisk rises from the ground to meet their creator-sky, their unnatural black fighting against the white to affirm their identity, screaming at the world they wish to be recognized. Smoke fumes out of it, painting and fighting the sky in the aftermath of the battle, the greyness of a new reality.
And upon the cracks of the asphalt, oil gushes out of their holes, coating the ground into their liking, thick and red as the blood inhabiting every human. Drops of the liquid shape themselves trying to mimic the flesh in an attempt to create life without a blueprint. The experiment results in a slime-ish deformity contorting into the ground screaming into the loudest notes their cries of agony, the pain of reality unbearable to them. Some lucky few grit their non-existent teeth and bare through their gnashed flesh and put their own two feet onto this land and walk toward the obelisk, the procession ignoring the cries of abandoned comrades and me.
I ignore the scene, and upon me and only me lies a familiar female voice who chants their mindless task "Upon a world which lies nothing, why not go as if you were a shadow? Mindless husk, they are, but there is nothing to lose nor to hide if nothing happens, and there is nothing to gain here, why not go anywhere? In your own words, there is nothing left to lose," and with the nerves controlling my body, I obey their calling, as unimportant, the task is, what else can I do? Look at the scenery, no… there is too much to be done.
While the shadows and processing creep into every single hole of my body, I discard my fear and go along, resisting at my temptations of abandoning everything, step by step crawling under the obelisk shadow, ominous as the bloom of a quietless night, the crumbs of glass, stone showing the sky, while flesh and bone withstanding, resolute into their task, the puppets of another puppet.
A crumbling building stops me at my tracks and invites me into entering their insides of cement, leading me to an abandoned inner parking lot, cars intact as if the owner never left them, the plants circumvent but never penetrate the chassis, afraid of the tasteless electrons. The elevator says random infrared numbers, their logic long lost. The only thing left to them is particles of dust accumulate in their insides, the capability of doing the one sole thing in life lost. Leaving me with only one option, the infinite stairs as high as the sky where even the quickest and patient are left to walk into eternity. With no other option left, I take the gamble. If there is nothing to lose, why not?
Foot after foot, the leveled floor challenges me, every moment a part of my energy consumed into the endeavor, legs begging to fall apart at every moment, my breath erratic. How many floors have I already passed? Fifty? One hundred? There is no way to tell, my eyes becoming vertiginous as every level before me fills with a vicious black liquid consummating the material, their fuel source. Faltering, I crawl, rocks scrape my naked body, rubble making little incisions over it until one sole open door is found. A surge of energy comes to the frail body, and I make a leap towards it, denying every single sense of pain I feel at this very single moment
I land into the plastered ground, saliva comes out of the mouth, affliction impeding any stretch of muscle and bone. The restless breath dominating the sound of the room, resting the weak comparison. Almost crumbling like a cookie, I lift myself up, the taste of sweat soaking my face, and blurring my vision, calming myself for a bit, and slamming the door denying the liquid any access. I look up this facility, inside there is grey air and artificial sunlight.
Destroyed partition wall in the ground, scratched, lifeless as the first put. Gnashed colored papers of covers of lawsuits fill up the ground, stories of uncountable men and women reduced to mere impersonal words telling the deaths and how much were their wealth. A mannequin wearing a destroyed suit sits on broken blue chairs grinding into the beige of their foam stuffing.
Lying dead in the grey plastic tables, the same colored papers at their side, while smashed computers with broken dark glass and wires serve as their comfy pillow, and upon one of the walls, there is a giant clock marked with the phrase Isso aqui é vida/This is life.
Under that, there is a symbol with an eagle holding a ball, and laurels at each side of the ellipse engulfing the eagle, there is no word etched, behind the blue hues of the figures, lies the deceitful lies hiding in my being, one thing comes to my mind at my moment what a great mess that is.
The dull colorless ground greets me in non-liveness in all parts of the place, there is no such thing as windows in here, after all, who needs to see natural light peeking in somewhere like this? There is nothing of worth to salvage, just empty scrap and junk, the souls of bureaucratic workers overworking in their job, and the nostalgia. Shaking my head, going on, and searching for a way to go to the next room.
Upon searching in the room, I find a door as dead as the other things in the room, it's only distinguishable feature is the plastic black door handle. I force it, hoping it would bulge and allow me to go on to my next destination, but the object doesn't move a single centimeter. The keyhole eyeing me and laughing in his non-existent mouth.
Withstanding my own impatience, I sigh and let calm air go to my lungs. Since the place isn't very big, I doubt the key to this thing is far away and go to the rubble laid before me. Looking at every single desk and debris on the ground, I go on my quest to fetch the item, but to no avail: the key isn't anywhere. I sit and bear through my thoughts in what place it could be?
A small dot of silver pops in one of the broken computers. Maybe this is the right one?
Going there gifts me with the broken body of a female mannequin, rotting under the shadows and marks of sleepless nights in what in her eyes would be. A photo of two children in her desk, their faces smudgy. An uncomfortable feeling runs through my body, my heart under the pain of the uneasy surrounding the figure. Therefore I put my hand on the broken screen and grab the key connected into the wires. Ripping out, the scream of an unknown entity occurs, and then silence returns as if nothing happened.
After this, I go on my encounter with the door who mocked me. By putting the keyhole, their laugh goes to silent despair, no sound comes and they open themselves up in a slow manner as if I was a noble of some kind, and it was my own butler. I ignore him and I enter down a corridor and then the door slams itself abandoning me to my own device yet again, that bastard!
The hallway is like the room beforehand, lifeless grey, the only difference being the better lighting, the bulbs working at maximum potency with a vibrant white of an interrogation room. There is a worn-out clothing that was thrown out at my side, the deepest shade of mud brown contrasting with the lightning, the most noticeable object in the whole entirety of the corridor. But to be honest, any color would pop up upon these conditions. Picking up the clothes, I dress myself up. They are more like rags, gnashed, black taints appearing all over the cloth, and harsh on touch, the last time someone took care of it was long ago. Well, for one thing, this is at least better than nothing.
The walk through the one direction is slow, methodical, and boring. No signs emerge or dare to present themselves to me, and my only companionship is the low volume of sound from my feet stepping on the ground. The dullness of it all just bores me to no end. Every single second wasted on this pointless facility and alas to my utter happiness, two dark glass doors greet me at the tunnel, elegant in every aspect, door handles of wood and
hard glass, an exception rather than the rule in a world where bland rules supreme.
I open them as dramatically as possible, pushing both doors with my two hands, while they crack away. What I stumble upon is a gigantic room, easily capable of holding at least five hundred people, curved desks capable of ten or twenty people at once made of quality wood, while the chairs are made of fluffy leather. Standing above all others is a table in the center of it and a man in the cross behind it. Plastering everywhere is the green and yellow flag in the center written with the text: Ordem e Progresso/ Order and Progress, a red tint under it.
There is a massive screen at the east side of the room, there is an electronic panel spelling out unknown names, all white out. The text reflects the numbers of people in the room. An empty space, a wasted effort, the beings who stood there once were doubtfully good, most of them filled with empty promise after promise. I don't think the beautiful flag deserves to be here, it's more of a tainted symbol now. Not even glancing for the last time, I get out of the place, a small crack on the wall opening up and letting me out of this. after all, who needs to waste bitter emotions upon unsurprising reflections.
As the crumbling remains of the wall stand at my side, the new rays of a dark sun under the sky dawn upon the brittle yellow sands sitting on the landscape, The heat fizzling and distorting the view, as my naked feet go from the cold hard stone floor to the boiling soft grain surface. Just another different way to make the same torment in the end, so it goes.
The old forms continue into the march into the obelisk, despite their shapes melting by the contact of the sun, they keep going as nothing has happened, trails marked but not stopped. Sucking my breath, I follow their example, the feet fighting against the irritation caused by the amounts of grain pricking at my sole. After every single step, another session of inspiration and expiration occurs, as I keep gritting my teeth, maintaining my calm under hell's floor, and the pain at bay.
The blackened sun watches me, the sole viewer of this Sisyphean task. So powerful that it denies the stars to enter his domain, only allowing himself to shine, narcissistic as always the creator of the situation at my hands, caused by taking the vacant seat as the rule of this reality, stretching his rays to cover the entire world, no one capable of stopping his plans. Despite being the audience, he is indifferent to me as any of the other beings, just another subject in his massive kingdom.
As I further go inside the confines of the desert, the base of the obelisk reveals themself. Brutal comes to my mind. Sharp angles and blocky structure form the building, one massive cube and diamond shape structure sitting beside the obelisk, a rectangular form gluing them together, as two strips of rock rest on the quadrangular figure. Totalitarian in nature, it draws every single being into his fabrics. Grey and black mingling to make the pronouncer of all that holds into the world. Immeasurable shapes carved into the walls of the monolith. The hypnosis of the form and mind, the absurd of it all.
Triangular gates adorn the entrance, massive in scope, it dwarfs even the biggest of creatures. Open and impersonal, it allows everyone to enter and explore the inside of the facility it guards and the secrets it holds. I stand before it, the massive procession entering and leaving behind the liquid rest, the one incapable of entering. The only remnant of the left-behinds, the slime trail their bodies made before collapsing into the unknown state. My feet are covered in the goo painting, as I enter the place. The revolting texture makes my bile almost get out of my body.
With a long breath that becomes a low windy whistle, I ready myself to set my foot on the coal ground, the uneasiness setting upon me as I gulp some saliva. Restrain shown, dipping my toes into the shadows, before fully diving into the planes of the unknown, where lies knowledge, perhaps? Or maybe the damnation and submission to the void?
A ramp stands at the other side, a platform connecting to it, two massive abysses at the sides, allowing one to pass. A squarish hole in the whole spurts air and black water falling down to the chasm. Rows of pillars perforate diagonally, a fountain of liquid coming out of it, baptizing some few with actual forms, not unstable like others. The parade passes through, appearing more like a blob than some individuals forming a march. Stomaching the shivers and trembling hands, I paint the rags as black and infiltrate them. The raining substance dodges from me. As it was before, they didn't notice me or if they noticed, they decided that my presence wasn't important or had any real threat to them in some way.
Slow is my walk as their slow ascent lets me soak the inner workings of the place, gears rotating into the walls, fluids pouring out, spherical shapes flying in the atmosphere, purple miasma airing up the place. Geometry forming the part of the equilibrium of the ecosystem of this place. There is an abrupt end to the forms standing before us. Zig and zag go the path where we are walking, a slow burn into the lonely adventure.
And yet signs carve the majority of the place, unknown beings mutter their mad chant audible and resonant into the chambers, the muttering of the slime and the cries of heart beating into oblivion. A cacophony of an industry without smoke, nowhere to be found clock ticking their time in an unsteady rhythm.
and alas, before long, a platform emerges out of the gloom lighting of the location four rectangular-shaped pillars circumvents and crosses each other. In the middle of it, a big black book was put into a form of stand, the page as white as milk inviting us into reading their content. Upon our arrival, mechanical sounds come out of the platform, grinding a slow ascent into the top. Boredom comes as I sit, resting my well worn-out body, as dark rays come out from the hole above us, illuminating our space, the heat comforting me. The shadows being destroyed by the sun king
We finally arrive on the floor where the obelisk dwells, massive, an untranslated message carved into the front, a sense of dread coming to me, as the imponent building releases more of its inebriating aura, nauseating as it is, the smallest sensation making my head dizzy and incapable of understanding the living structure, a small passage of the yet to come, what could it possibly be? With all my willpower left, I breathe out and pick the courage and go toward its insides.
The darkness impregnates the uneven stairs leading into the top of the Obelisk, the light as little as possible, only shadows walking into the inside perimeters of the area, walls etched with messages. Taking the little details, I put my little feet into the levels, my hands helping me along the trek, positioning themselves into the walls, claustrophobic, every single step I make, a chance of falling down into the abyss by the lack of handrails, the blobs passing through me, tasting their bitter taste.
Into the ceiling we arrive, a small opening revealing an unknown light, opening, reveals a white room with a triangular ceiling. It slowly opens itself like a blooming flower into the summer, the tension increasing tenfold by every single second as my duty is finally completed, I wonder if that is what I want, maybe it is, after all, this wasn't for anything right?
What is in the sky is the same sky as before, only this time it has clouds in it.
…
It was only this… no commentaries. The creatures received the light mesmerized by their non-existent eyes, They happily contort themselves, sickening small grumbles and noise coming out as they received the "blessing in the sky". My ears get strained as I hear the ritualist noises. I get out of the room and allow myself to breathe for a moment for the journey back into the floor.
I descend into the step, little rock falling down and clacking on the floor, reminding me of what will happen if I am not careful. Despite all my common sense, my fist clenches as I scowl back into the pointless journey I've made until now, that was just it ?! Clouds in the sky. Huh, impressive, Of course not! I punch hard against the wall, receiving the pain back, the gravures not bulging against my weak and inefficient form of attack. Just another disappointment as usual.
Once on the floor, I don't know where to go next. Where can I possibly go right now? The desert with pricking sand or the city of bad memories? No. Well, there is the book in the middle of the platform, why not read anyways? Going there leaves me to see the meticulous detail in the composition of the papers. Words stringing together to form a heart in the middle of the page, a little space in between to get the words to breathe out, I thank the calligrapher for making this, at least I have known something worth seeing in this freaking thing and I pick up the book to read more pages.
A deafening scream rises and spreads through the sky. The platform goes to a rapid descent, the strong wind almost lifting me up. The stand transforms itself into a chalice overflowing with the same goo of the creatures. Lifting my head up to see the sky, there is only black, where some of the blobs fall down and others drip down to encounter me. Flopping under is the more defined slime with actual bodies, now they are knights under the obelisk's influence, created by absorbing the "divine" revelation, swords emerging from the red bodies, the blade so sharp, it reflects light.
Left with the book in my hands, I flip through the page incessantly searching for a way out, a spell, curse, or anything to escape this madness. The unstealable letters become recognizable for me and I mutter to myself, despite their meaning I don't understand it all and alas, a thick purple aura surrounds my body, as I read the page, readying myself up. Sadly, there is no way to escape this time, therefore now this is the time to fight.
The blob that was dropped down, diving themselves up into formations creating a small soldier, cannon fodder to the real threat that is the knights of the obelisk. As they come out into the world, they stretch and act like zombies, a horde of these things amounting into the little space I have into the few meters of the place.
As I speak up the words from the book in my hands, the aura transforms itself into a black orb emanating from the palm of hands, strands of electric shock touching my fingers. The ground is covered with inscriptions of the spell, the suction of the ball consuming the air, I release from the immense pressure it creates to my arm, the trail of destruction is the only thing I can see, the electric shock exploding the blobs into numerous parts.
Their blood coming out and spreading into the air. The damage contorting and making it painful to continue their operation, A ear-piercing shriek they make, so deafening I can't hear what the hell is going on, my sense of direction messed up, left and right blended together, my feet uncertain where to go. As I stammer, the remaining "knights" approach ever closer to me, readying their swords and preparing to slash,
I generate another orb from the aura inside me, as I ready the ball of energy to go its destructive way. Attacks from the knights come all together as a union. A little breach in between allowing a dodge to happen. When I evade, time slows down as the blade passes through my eyes, a few centimeters of difference. Rolling into the other side, a few strands of hair falling down, my unsteady breathtaking puffs of air after the aftermath.
As they circle me again, instead of releasing the blast into one direction I prepare to do under the ground, even if I get hurt for a little bit all the splash the damage will be worth it. Suddenly, a sword slashes my back, the pain stinging in my back, the fresh air burning the wound, the red liquid coming out, tainting the rear. Gritting my teeth, I release the orb to the ground.
A purple explosion ensues, the shock wave making the site tremble. The creatures standing inside the blast radius erased, not even a drop of their fluid left. Only a few remaining knights alive scream away their pain.
As for me, I fly in the sky, the blood rushing to my lungs and mouth. Hitting the ground, the blunt force breaks my ribs, which pierce one of my lungs, the air escaping. Putting my hand in my mouth, the blood gushing out like a fountain while painting the palm. Looking at my chest, I can see various holes, spurting red liquid everywhere. I stand up, the pain is unbearable, the tension of all my sustained damage catching up to me. The cracking of the bones and the muscle sprained, a single step almost guarantees a collapse. A small cry and laughs come to me, while I resist against all odds, the sorry state of my destroyed organs.
The platform is destroyed and falling down into the abyss, so I limp towards the exit again, Grinding my teeth to recover my senses for a little bit and forget the pain for a bit. My body trembles as I go down the geometrical ramp. A sound startles me, the pitch of insects, The wings of wasps beating in the air. Looking at my back as I already know my answer, the horror coming to my brain.
The remains of the fluid combining forming into a creature morphs, The body of a cockroach with the thousand humans feet of the likes of a millipede, one hundred massive fly wings, and a gigantic claw as a mouth. The thing crawls towards me, his agile legs having an upper hand against my limp ones. Before the monster can catch me and eat me whole, I throw away any common sense, and I jump into the pit, a strong blow of air coming against my direction as any air remaining is sucked from the lungs, the blood stops falling down together with me as I "reenact" the drawing of doré with my nonexistent wings the adrenaline keeping me alive from knowing wherever there is an afterlife or not.
I crash upon black water, a splash of the liquid going everywhere, the splashing breaking both of my legs as they project outside the body. The agony of the lack of air comes to my entire body in the water suffocating me. A struggle to keep me floating as I swim with the pain of legs destroyed, my arms having to do the work and leading me along the way to a simple shore, and upon the center an altar with another book, this time there is no illumination marking, only visible darkness surrounding it.
When I arrive at the shore, I try to rise, the bones finally crack, a sickening crack resonating in the rooms. Leaving me to slowly crawl toward it, rasping my body along the harsh surface, gravel perforating the torso. The grinding of the left to air bones only intensifies as the trail of blood wherever I go grows, the remaining air not enough for maintaining my consciousness, while I futilely breathe like a dying animal begging to be killed, as the sensation starts to dwindle and pain is a little bit elevated.
Halfway point, the creature comes in with its majestic brutality strolling down in the walls like a centipede, but this time it is contorted in pain like me, the amount of oxygen necessary to sustain the thing catching up to him. When I notice its presence, I make even bigger leaps destroying my legs in the process, the meat dandling from the remains of my body, and in an attempt to escape from the foul beast's grasp and finally arrive at my destination that voice chanted me to.
The pain increases tenfold, my eyelids slowly closing, signing the end and the beginning of my departure of the world, only my arms allowing me to slither into the book, my fingers almost touching the pages, when the blob slowly engulfs me into his digestive acid erasing me out of any memento of existence, I await to be forgotten, my death a signifier of my failed task, what a pointless life.
Then the pages touch the nail of my index finger, and a revelation comes to my mind. None of this is real, it never was and never will be. The imaginary space slowly being erased out of existence, the blob screaming back not wanting to be seen again as a fictional creature. The darkness comes indifferent to and picks up me from my sleep
My eyelids suddenly open revealing Tharja's room where I was before, left untouched, there is no perceivable change. As I calm my breath, and try to soak whatever was happening from before, eyes twitching wanting to see if it is real or not. Tharja's voice resonates in her room, so loud it sounds like she is with a speaker: "Congratulations, you are worthy of holding it" I gaze around, to locate her around the lack of light.
Upon finding her, she holds a brand new black robe, with golden yellow marks inscribed in a regular zig-zag pattern, a purple color in the inner parts. Tharja puts above my original clothes, the soft fabric comforting me and easing me for what comes next.
She mutters a pledge: "Hereby today, I will be the seeker of knowledge of the world, to discover the unknown and understand it, to make the darkness the light that shines in the underworld, where the hidden shall help the unhidden, the evil it lurks is nothing compared to good it brings, I shall use for good and not evil, allowing my companions to thrive because of it and discover the beauty of the unknown," she ends and gazes at me.
"Repeat the sacred words."
And so I do, the oath to the dark arts being made and inscriptions coming under my feet, the purple light irradiating the dark room, confirm my situation as a new dark mage and apprentice of the magic. A bittersweet smile comes to her face, she doesn't try to hide it, until I notice her doing and promptly stops and glares at me.
She guides me into the cauldron, my legs still wombly from the stress of that unsettling
"dreams", my tired reflection empty gazes back at me. Out of nowhere, she pushes my head into the hot liquid. The bitter liquid invades my tongue, the taste of rotten medicine, my head goes back to the atmosphere, as I breathe normally, and dawn upon me this dark baptism.
I sit down in a chair, resting for a little bit of my body, my mind picking up the pieces left by the events transpiring. Tharja gives me an empty book and magical tint. My tired state waiting for a few moments to notice it. She leads my hand into the burn papers, the ashes painting my hand. She opens my book and presses the hand into it, finalizing the whole ordeal.
No more words need to be exchanged, the atmosphere already says by itself. The heaviest of the act being incorporated into my slow understanding of the world. By the end, I still need to get out, my day with Tharja already ended, and I don't have any more words to share with her. I quietly sneak out of her room, but Tharja stoic looks at me, she doesn't mutter any words, and the book and magical tint come with me.
The journey back to my room feels like a slog, my legs stumbling at every single moment, the walls helping me to get at my destination. As other dark mages go shocked by my new smell and clothing, the eyes wide open in surprise and mouth agape, incapable of comprehending why. I ignore their reactions as I finally get back to the door, get inside, and lock it. Leaving the book on the desk, I collapse under my bed, a soft thud announcing it. With my new clean robes, I sleep another dreamless night.
And that ends my most pretentious chapter yet. Hope you all liked, this time writer's block hit me hard, and I as usual I am not that happy with how this chapter end up, but hey it is better than nothing. I will try to release two chapters in a month, instead of one. I thank Cavik for beta reading it. At least this time, the grammatical errors aren't as prevalent as the other chapters.
I also participate in a discord server, here the link: discord .gg/9XG3U7a