I can only sense the world in vertical stripes. The cauldron is at the top, the bed at the bottom, Tharja in the lower end of the strip, and my hand at the central strip. Despite the Escherian perspective, I can distinguish what was in front of me. The stripes don't rob me of the agency of moving my body, but I would be lying if I said during the first ten minutes I could barely move and it would be way easier to understand perspective in Escher's drawing than the striped vision.
The footsteps I made (because of Tharja's body control hex) were wonky in the beginning; left and right mixed together, the top and bottom being the sole difference between them. I made a single step and fell flat on the floor, but after some 20 minutes or so, I could take a single step without falling apart like a house of cards. Still not perfect, but now I don't meet the cold rocks as often as before.
"We are finished for today. Go to rest," Tharja mutters to me, turning off the curse and returning my vision back to normal after a few seconds. It wasn't as harsh as that last time two weeks prior.
"Tharja, could you do something for me?" She faces me with incredulity at the question. Not angry, but just wondering if some spirit has taken hold of my body
"Yes?"
"Can you show me what a messianic prayer is like?"
Tharja looks at me surprised.
"You of all people? Why?" Tharja asks with a dumbfounded face and a questioning tone. I put my finger on my chin.
Why do I want to go to a Grimleal cult? Well, it's easier to not be seen as an outsider if you do what the people here often do. As some might say 'In Rome, do as the Romans do'. I should have listened to this advice before. Also, I heard some rumors that I am an atheist a while back; they are actually true, but I hope they get out of my trail by seeing me doing this.
"why not?"
Tharja scoffs at my answer.
"Well if that is the case, I don't see why you can't. But be careful, we don't like intruders in our nest." Tharja glares at me, as she goes back to her desk. A fair warning I suppose
"Hehehe," Tharja giggled. No doubt, the vessel will appear then. As she laughed at the thought of seeing her 'idol', I got out of her room.
Goddamit, I forgot something. I return to her room.
"Ugh... what is it?" She looks at me annoyed as I break her from her daydreaming fantasy.
"What time is the ritual?" A dumb question, but one I'm willing to take the risk for.
"At sunset. When Grimleal shall return to savor the night of a new twilight. Get out." And she slams the door at me.
Oh well. I look "forward" to this whole ritual. Now is time for searching where it is. Oh well, I could ask Tharja, but I don't think she was so willingly after slamming her door.
The sunset glares at me with its mournful hues of orange interwoven with a jaded sky who refuses to be dominated by the few strains of a green spreading like veins, consuming but not destroying the sky at its top.
The view is located in one of the many corridors of the palace. There are so many, that it makes for a rather complex labyrinth, under which, to my dismay, I have to live. This part feels more like a balcony rather than a luxurious hallway.
My arms stand on the rail as the light is allowed to enter by the space between the marble and the eyes of Grima decoration surrounding the window. I hope this is the right way. I have lost way too much time trying to find this place, and it seems to be the only one I still haven't visited yet. At least I got a beautiful sunset as a consolation prize.
"Pelo menos alguma coisa boa nisso tudo, né? " I mutter to no one.
I stop gazing at the sunset and return to my incoming destination. The floor is painted purple, black lines converging into one sole direction: a badly-lit space where the light and shadow meet and mix in, while some other hooded people come near inside. I put on my hood in an attempt to conceal my identity. I guess the wish not to be discovered is something even greater than I can control. A tug in my heart tells me not to go, the aura creeping out, I gulp and set in the foot into the shadow.
Upon entering the place of darkness, it reveals a massive inner metal gate beside stairs leading down. A massive head of Grima painted on the top with the mark of Grima above the Fell Dragon. That must be it! The place I am looking for! I should have asked Tharja beforehand, even with her mood. But nobody stops her fantasy of Reflet. Nobody.
Stepping inside the place, my footstep echoed softly, the stalking sound alerting no one and upon entering the place properly. Nobody came to greet me, as there wasn't even a single guard, nor priest-like figure. Only the candles and a small gathering of two hundred people inside a chapel-like place. The ceiling was flat without any painting, beside one massive purple eye with a somewhat weak torch in the middle of it, spreading it through the roof like veins and arteries to a beating heart, the Fell star compassing the whole world to eat as a whole.
Despite some strategic candles, it is barely illuminated, barely allowing me to see what wasn't inside the well-lit area. All followers use a hood, making them indiscernible to the common eye. At least it makes it easier to mix with the crowd and not stand out like a sore thumb. There is no chair or place to sit, only the concrete grey rock serving as any place for sitting, without any tapestry to soften the rigid ground.
The area is as loud as ever, the people talking about the mundane and the indifferent.
"Did you hear about…?''
"Some of those weird dualists have been..."
The crowd crept onto themselves, serving more like a massive wall keeping me from entering, besides just staring at the breathing thing.
Holding my breath, I penetrate and fight my way in until I find one singular empty space between the mountain of people. There I found some places to sit while others were on their feet. Breathing against my sweat, I delight myself to find a place to sit. The cold ground is harsh and I turn my head… only to find Tharja blinking at me, as I keep staring at her.
"Why are you here?" She says in disbelief, still blinking to see if I was an illusion.
"I told you I would be coming here."
She frowns at my answer. Well, it could be worse.
"I didn't think you were serious, ugh… if that is the case, please pay attention and don't embarrass yourself".
"Noted. Is this going to be a normal prayer?" My voice lingers at the overwhelming number of people.
She only glares at me and returns to whatever she was doing before meeting me.
After this, our small talk ends. I look around to observe the architecture around the place, once my greatest past time when I was at church with my mother. Gazing at the monuments, the beaten-down Jesus Christ placed upon the cross and a piece of paper with the prayers, impatiently waiting for time to trickle down.
I chuckle to myself. I was never a man of God. I hated going to church, and heck I preferred one over another because it was more aesthetically pleasing to my eyes. I just find it a little bit funny that my first time going to a religious place out of my own volition is to one belonging to the sect that wants to destroy the world.
In front of us, a big altar with purple cloth stood imponent higher above us, unknown figures covered in shadows calling for us from behind it. A small statue of Grima's head is laid above the upper part, a red liquid dripping from the eyes as if it is crying, staining a small grail as bright as the night. On the side, there is a grey open vase filled with ashes.
Into the wall, the face of ancient heroes lays destroyed, the passage of time chipping away their details. The saffron paintings hiding little cracks seeping into the world as few candles rest at it.
"It will start now, pay attention." As you wish, but also because I want my head to stay where it is right now.
"OK, at what moment?"
"Shhhhhh"
...
Time slowly ticks away, the few seconds passing at a snail's pace to the point of being more of a painting. An agonizing lack of air takes hold of me, little spikes of anxiety surging through my body as I hold against their tide. My belly heats as the cold exterior shocks with me, the unpleasant feeling reverting into my body. The crowd amounting into themselves closes the world surrounding me, as I become part of a massive wall, almost drowning me in the sea of people.
A sudden bang explodes through the air, the talking and muttering ceasing. An imperative silence takes hold as the new king of order into the prayers. All devotees bow their heads down into the hard ground as silent prays were made. I gulp at what came next.
All light is snuffed out, the darkness takes it to hold in the world. I raise my head from the position, watching as almost no sound is made. Little breaths of air surround me, the cold wind singing its little song to the little trespassers.
"The one brought by the star," A lone voice rose, coming from the altar. I don't let it startle me, and I maintain my posture.
"By the whims of the lanced sky," A harsh male voice sings, unknowable, coming from all directions of the room at the same time, echoing into the fissures of the walls.
"By the one which abandoned us," A female intones the lonely line, coming from the top and the bottom at the same time.
"The cries of unborn children follow us," one sole light blazed through existence on top of us, as the three voices combined into one. The rays are too weak to even make a dent in the all-consuming darkness, the purple eyes staring at me.
"The sand laid into the shadow," we start to chant at that moment, and we follow like sheep in a flock to its pastor.
"By we which pray," every word is sacred and has to be spelled out right or else.
"The bones laying down to mother night," The candle weep, flicking and reemerging in its lamentation.
"The hunger of the barren land." To the desert I survived, and yet, the prayer is harder.
"The grail we consume." I would mingle with the locals, and I would survive.
"The dust we lay." But at what cost?
"The light in which we devour ourselves." Why am I here? No, why should I be here?
"The piety of the forgotten one," after all, is praying the most natural thing to a human?
"From the hollow earth to," this didn't feel right, my gut feeling tells me something wrong
"The unclaimed sky," the sole light in the room ceases to exist, and only our sounds exist in the vacuum.
"We lay bare to our crying." something isn't right.
"To the rebirth," I get a shiver down my spine. An unbroken gaze makes me it's focus.
"To death," no, no, no.
"To the broken sun," Why did I have this idea, why!?
"To the created moon," I shouldn't be here, the cold sweat outpouring from me.
"AGrima." I don't belong here.
The voices fade, and silence reigns. No one moves, and nothing changes. Only a static picture of contorted statues as my body begs to get out of there. I keep looking around, only the wind greeting me, little movements being caught in the air passing through without any interference, every single person falling down to the ground. I follow suit. I will survive this. I will survive this. It wasn't the first time I almost died, I will be just fine. I will just be another face in the crowd, and everything would be fine! This is only a church, there is nothing special about it!
My head touches the ground and I press it hard, the little rocks caressing my forehead, my eyes closed. A small chant emerges in front of us, indecipherable. Their guttural sound echoes through the room.
"Arise!" The people stand up as I keep my head down trying to avoid any eye contact in the moment of the "waking up". The room is slow at relighting itself, the purple light blinding us, only to return to a reasonable one. Nobody flinches as they stare at the altar.
"Out of Blood, we come," All chant in unison, without any order, chilling my spine.
"The steps towards the Cycle," The little word is being accented at the right times.
"Will be broken through," I contain my breath as my mouth shut itself.
"The cinders and ash of the Old World," I can utter no sound, only stare at the altar
"Will coat the newborn and the land," what can I do?
"The creation of new by the old"
"The revelation to all see"
" And unveiled the truth to be sought!"
"The Purification Shall begin!" Only expect the worst.
The altar reveals its shadow contents to the world to see, a hooded figure with purple robes, a figure of a dragon with a human head etched inside standing in front of the altar with the other two other tall figures on the back of it. They stood like statues, watching our every movement.
A line is made, people organizing themselves to go to the altar, a little stair leading the people to stare at the table and access its content, a spiral form as the clash of drums plays in the background and the mantra is shouted. " AGrima, AGrima, AGrima, AGrima"
I stood before Tharja, waiting my time to come to this singular furniture of fanatic devotion, the liquid and ashes staying untouchable until now, the ceremony starting as a gulped sound resonated through the room.
Tharja takes a glance at me and whispers "Do you at least know this ritual?"
"No"
"Huh, just copy what I do." Tharja grunts at my response, annoyed in her eyes, as she returns to watch the altar with bright eyes.
"Noted."
The line little by a little shrink, the members who already did their part of this ritual going back to their place, bowing and returning to silent prayers. At every single successful exit, my heart palpitated in agony, dreading what would come next. Anxiety controls me like a puppet to strings, as I keep tapping against my leg, waiting for the worst of all crimes: the wait until the final verdict comes.
Tharja stands in front of me. Unfortunately, I'm incapable of seeing her movement, the robes hiding what she was doing with her hands or head.
The only sure thing is the phrase she muttered at the beginning of the ritual and at the end "Ashes to blood, blood to ashes" and the strong audible swig of the 'wine'. Tharja got out and returned to her place, her eyes brimming with the warmness of the stars, and her hands pointing me towards the staircase.
Every single step made, a startling noise shooks with the air. My shoes stepping in the marble of the stair, a careful gaze looking down at me. The seconds became hours with the pronouncement of the silent wistful cries and expectation of failure pouring through the air.
"Welcome, children of the fallen moon," the harsh voice greets me.
"Ashes to blood, blood to ashes."
He shows the altar like a merchant would his merchandise, the tablecloth soggy with the splashes, and liquid coming from the material inside of it, tainting my clothes.
Where do I start, the wine or the dust on the other side of the bowl? Choose Goddamnit, dust, or wine? Wine or dust?
I pick up a little bit of the dust and spread it through my face, forming the mark of Grima, the two sides of the symbol connecting at the bottom of my nose. None of the three people gazes at me. Phew.
Without a single clue of where to go next, I submerge my fingers into the red liquid.
The drowned ashes mix with the 'wine', turning black as my robes. The substance doesn't feel right, it sticks like a goo, rather than a drinkable liquid of any kind. I spread the liquid through the mark I'd spread, the black suddenly turning into bright red, illuminating my hand while I spread through it. At that sudden moment, one of the figures keeps gazing at me, as I kiss the liquid but fail to gobble it up.
It tastes as bitter as sewer water. I want to spit it out and drink actual water to eliminate the foul thing out of my system. I hold against that wish, hold the substance from getting out of my mouth and I go back to my place. My head is sunken as I try to avoid everyone and not cough the revolting fluid, not knowing if I made a mistake or not.
"No comment," I comment while looking back at Tharja
The black fluid drips from my mouth. Tharja looks at me with confusion while I brush it with my hand.
"Why did you put the ashes on your face?" Oh great, just what I need to hear.
"Oh." Why do I keep failing at all things?
"Humph, you are completely clueless." Ora! Ora! Temos um Xeroque Rolmes aqui!
"Thanks," and I go back to staring at the same cramped and rotten altar.
After a while of nauseating wait, where it makes even the most patient of men crumble, one of the figures speaks.
"All arise and listen to the Great Priest," Aversa announces to the public.
Oh no, she must have seen me! But why is she isn't looking at anyone?
The hood reveals Validar's pointed face, a look of indifference to every one of us, just mere ants to his projects. Aversa recedes to the background as the man became the new prophet.
"Followers of the Fell Dragon, the ones who weren't corrupted by the forces against us, the ones who hold the teaching of the great Validae the correct way. One step closer we are to the Fell Dragon's ever closer return to its rightful place in the world! To take revenge against those who defied and defiled his name!"
"The sacrifice of the many will be necessary, but everything is close as the prophet has said, destiny ever closer to being fulfilled! With the end ever closer, the damnable Naga will pay for what she has done to us as the rightful destiny says!"
Validar left as the altar stood empty, and candles wrapped nobody, one sole figure left to be seen. The crowd exploded in celebrations as their foot taps in sole rhythm and hymns were sung:
"Oh, Breaker of Cycles, the new bearer of the new reality,"
"Shall bring us to ever-watchful end and peace, through the steel, and Faith."
"Shall leads Through the land and water,"
"Through the sun and the moon"
"Through ashes and blood."
"AGrima"
No, goddammit! It's close, isn't it? But, if they are this close, what could possibly stop them from doing so? Why do I keep having to wrap my head around lunatics? How hellish!
All listen and attend to the reveal of Validar, their chanting congratulations for the next step towards the damnation of the world. I give a false smile, as I try not to be seen, Tharja giving a graceful frown to his words, the sound of disapproval tasteful as ever.
The only one left goes towards the altar. Validar bowing as they enter the spotlight. Making a sign to stop the commotion as they went back to silence as eternal as the manifestation of evil. They take their hood off, revealing Robin's white hair. There is not a single smile or any type of emotion on her face, just the cold petrifying gaze of the Vessel.
"The world I gaze at is one of despair. The woes of the punished children of Grima being forgotten and ignored, left to pay for the unjust prices of the Creatures that betrayed us. The ones who betrayed the Grimleals will pay the due price for such unjust suffering."
"In my veins and body, I can sense the ever closer return coming to fruition. Every single day a part of Retungin is meant to be. Me, the sole Vessel, shall receive the power! We are only creatures meant to be returned. Our holy duty is coming near every day. Soon the world will be engulfed by the Righteous Path, the old world will crumble and rot away. As Grima and I are one sole being, I can sense the destiny coming to me to your glorious future!"
Oh no, why this? With the Vessel being a willing participant in the bloodshed to come, there is no simple solution to this! Why, why, why!?
Robin smiles in my general direction. Despite that, her eyes don't look at me, but rather something far away. On my side, Tharja's smiling ear to ear, almost giggling at seeing her idol from so far. I'm in the land of the fanatical and I don't know what the hell to do.
Keep praying. Nobody will notice you if you are a nobody praying away right? Right!?
The lighted room goes back to the darkness inherent for this place, where the fanatical emerged and prayed in peace, waiting for the next movement to dethrone the world from Naga.
"The one brought by the star," The reprises come, shaking anyone from their doubts.
"By the whims of the lanced sky", I can sense the salient gaze of being watched even more.
"By the one which abandoned us," Why does it keep looking at me?
"The cries of unborn children follow us," my hand taps against my body as I try not to twitch for every single movement within the blindness brought by the all-encompassing void covering me.
"The sand laid into the shadow," Why so afraid? There is nothing to fear but yourself.
"By we which pray," I'm going mad! That is the only reason, the voice was inside my head! No one was sending a message at that moment!
"The bones laying down to mother night," I could feel little pricks in my body. I can only stand as the perforating sensation took its hold.
"The hunger of the barren land." Please, tell me I'm not going mad! That it's only a trick of my head!
"The grail we consume." I don't even know what's happening anymore.
"The dust we lay.'' my teeth crack against each other to survive the immense cold surrounding me. Why is it so cold!?
"The light in which we devour ourselves." The chant so weak starts playing again, not a sole voice dominating the others.
"The piety of the forgotten one," little by little the voices start fighting against one another, trying to surpass the one another, to be the most praying, the luckiest, the most devoted to Grima.
"From the hollow earth to," Tharja, in contrast to everyone else, makes a quiet whimper of voluntary submission. There is the only person she cares for and would give her utter devotion.
"The unclaimed sky." The metaphorical gate is open, there is only the cacophony of sounds of the gaze, the unbridled chaos of the orchestra without a maestro, and the atonal screaming of the beast.
"We lay bare to our crying." What have you been doing here foreigner? To apostate or not?
"To the rebirth!"I would have never expected you to come here. Stop prying from my head, I didn't ask you to be here!
"To the Rebirth!" The phrase repeats itself like a broken record, as the sounds become the scream of a sole voice. So why come here in my dominion? You don't need to be here.
"To the Rebirth!" Stop! Get out of my head! My head strains as a powerful headache split my head in two.
"To the Rebirth!" Why would you even try to get out of here? The words stabbing me as the sole thing I listen to is 'Rebirth'. The neck strains, the urge to scream comes to me, stabbing me. The world cracks under its own weight!
"To Rebirth!" Gabriel, I see you. Robin says.
I scream at the top of my lungs as the world stops, The strident cries drowning it out.
Sweat is what I taste as I stay immobile. The events that happened are still playing on my mind like a movie. The room is well lit, there is only me through the massive crowd. I keep trembling, trying to process whatever happened. I keep looking at the altar, where Validar and Robin stay on, all the public focused on them, as the most important part of this world, nothing else compares to them.
I keep breathing, trying to survive after such an encounter. How am I still alive? The suffocating air from before is replaced with the brand new feeling of ash of candles. Robin looks directly at me, eye meeting eye. She gives me a cheeky smile while rotating her head like a cat. I just look at her in horror. I can't even maintain my gaze and I look around to stop seeing her at all.
"To the judgment, to the moon, and to the fell star!" Validar utters.
"AGrima'' Everyone says in unison.
I make a small attempt of shouting the word, my voice failing and a massive strain coming out of my body, almost making me fall to the ground. Little by little, the room empties, Validar and Robin nowhere to be seen. Probably returning to their private chambers to rest.
"You look wonderful" Tharja mutters to me, her typical snark coming back to her, thank God!
"I agree," Well if even Tharja is saying so, I wonder what the hell happened to me while whatever the hell was going on in that place happened.
I step out of the room, as the crowd disperses, leaving me ample space to breathe and not die. My every footstep staggers, almost like jelly. At any moment I can crumble away and hit the ground hard. Tharja in front of me as I keep my hand on the wall to not wobble away to the floor. What a pain in the butt.
Left and right mixing together to me, every single step an enormous sacrifice to be made, as the energy once residing in my body sucked out by the cursed prayer of the messianic sect. Is suffering this much really worth it? I don't know. I can't see Tharja anymore, she easily outran me, the consequences of being crippled by the lack of energy.
I meet the force with a brick. It is fleshy and veins are going out everywhere.
Oh wait, it is a person. Let's just say sorry and avoid the drama surrounding me.
"Sorry sir," I exclaim. I can only see dark muscles, then I lifted my head. Who could it be? A man with wild hair, a simple beard covering his chin, his pointy chin. Looking indifferent to me as if I am an insect or a rat daring to even walk on his path…
Validar
I keep myself from freaking out like an animal cornered with his predator, my every being saying at me, to get away from the man. I fight my body as it tries to tremble and stop. The thing looks at me unimpressed
"I came here to ask some questions. Are you the man known as Gabriel?"
Uh oh.
"Yes" I keep the stoic face, as I try not to flinch from his voice and what would come next from him, his voice is like a sharp knife stabbing at my wounds.
"Did you keep visiting my daughter?" He didn't raise his voice or sound boastful, it was just a very cold question to me. Well, that's complicated. Mas é claro!
"No." Validar didn't even react. O que você é!?
"Does the name Aversa remind you of anyone?" He stares directly into my eyes, looking down on me, readying himself to stomp or even kill me, one of his hands readying for grabbing me by my throat. Para! Por favor te imploro, não me mata!
"No." I maintain a painful stare. With men like him, I couldn't afford to look away for even a single second, they kill you the moment you step off the line. Droga! Droga! Claro que essa porra de resposta não é suficiente!
"Then, does the Name Reflet bring anything familiar?" They really like to dissect me, don't they!? Should I lie or not? Lie or not! Lie or Not!?
"No," I tell him, trying to maintain my poker face and my utter indifference to him. He only glares at me with, His eyes are empty as the starless night, a dead man upon arrival. I keep my breathing in check as I try not to tremble against the man. Por quê ele me escolheu!? Porquê, Porquê!?
"Sorry for interrupting," He says as cold as the Plegian nights, and indifferent like he would be to ants, and moved along with indifference, his steps going somewhere until I can only see him going into the shadow. What a creep!
I release my breath and fall to the ground. My breathing is the only thing I listen to. There is a lack of air in my lungs, the feeling of oxygen having been long lost for me. I couldn't feel the air passing through me, cold sweat dripping from my face. A strain to my muscles, caused by the ritual and Validar's cold eyes, hurt me as I'm incapable of turning my eyes away from him. I should have been more careful, the next time he would kill me for sure. I lift myself and wobble to my destination.
I wonder what to make of Henry's didactic work, as the broken ceiling greets me, and the broken floor punches my spine.
"C'mon, Get up! You will become a corpse sooner rather than later if you keep your guts too lazy"
Henry gives me a hand, that creepy smile still on his face. I give my hand to him, and he lifts me without any effort.
"Now let's start again!" Goddamnit, I never thought I would have to do 'Henry's workout program' if it can be called that.
"Let me rest for a bit" I already survived a weird ritual, can you cut me some slack?
"You are being too lazy"
"No, I cannot work anymore" here I go again
"What a shame! You will be gutted on the battlefield. Times are changing and will not be long before rivers turn red." His smile is sunken down as not a single happy word is uttered.
I go back to my training As always I return to the same position as two weeks ago, a punching bag for the mad man. He returns to his tomes and summons again his ruin, the same old attack from the same old book. I get the full blast onto my face, but thank god that they can fraction the attack, the attack came very weakly. Blame my body for being exhausted right now by that weird prayer thing, but as I am tired I decide to stay where I was hit for some minutes.
"C'mon, you can do better than being just thrown away corpse" Well I am thrown away corpse right now, so no.
" OK, but it is not me that is paying the price." Henry look at the door, the silhouette of Tharja with his tome ready."
"I can explain!" And here comes the next round of Curses thrown at him.
On the outside, chants are being sung and soldiers indulged in their feasts. Bandits are heard from rumors on the other side of the mountain, the Shepherds and clans ever watchful, but blind to Gangrel's ambition, The drums of war are beating ever louder. And as for the Grimleal, to pray is all they need.
And that was the 8th chapter of Detachment. I want to thank Cavik and TheBobcat18 for beta reading this chapter, I also to thank your continued support of this fic, as I always say I don't know how people like my text, but I'm glad nonetheless. I also participate in a discord server, here is the link: discord .gg/9XG3U7a
ARSLOTHES: If I am being honest with you, I don't what pairing it will be or if this fic will even have a pairing. Don't need to stop hoping for it, but don't expect for Robin and Gabriel to necessarily happen, it could happen or not, this will be mostly determined by how the fic will progress.
Sentinel951: Well, we are still quite far away from the war proper, not as far as the first chapter mind you. But that doesn't mean nothing will happen