I have learned only one thing with the siege of Themis: poets and writers will be lamenting its destruction. Or perhaps, as future historians might perceive it, the first sign of Plegia's fury against the Halidom and the coming calamity. A presage of future things to come. Or will the burning buildings only be a golden rise leading to the most repetinent and brutal of falls?
The duke's blood hangs in the air, the smell of iron coats the back of my tongue in a bitter aftertaste. The weight of my tome drags down my arm like an anvil. I let it drop, leaving sweat and a swift relief to coat my hand. A thud is the only sound heard in the aftermath.
Henry grabs the body of the dead duke of Themis, while the woman screams at the top of her lungs. The thing contorts his neck at hearing the shriek, coming closer to her and smiling ear to ear. She ceases screaming and he leaves in silence.
Reflet gazes at the scene with a serene. grin while the bloodriden clothing taints the air with its scent of iron. She licks her own lips as if there was a meal in front of her.
The duke's daughter remains still in the aftermath. Her features don't betray even a twitch, while she stares blankly at the walls and her arms tremble, the only sign she hasn't become a statue. Otherwise, she is just another corpse.
Shame stabs my mind when I look at the consequences of my actions. There it is, the city lying broken, its inhabitants dead and one of the survivors now quivering like a maniac, and I was responsible for some part of it. In the end, I have truly become a villain, but that is life.
I gaze back to the woman who breaks out of her petrification. Growling, she gets up from the ground and sprints at Reflet, her fists ready. Reflet turns to face her and almost sighs on the encounter, standing with a poker face. The moment the Duke's daughter gets to the Vessel, Grima punches her face, knocking her out.
I don't get close, as my guts feel cold after the act, whispering to me to get out of there before these two's actions become worse than just threats and punches.
I turn around in defeat. This is it, the city is taken and there is nothing else I can do at the moment. The battle is over, there are no more soldiers, only looters, onlookers and refugees trying to escape with their lives.
I get away from the scene, taking small steps backwards so as to not make any sound in the room, while getting close to the gates.
I turn my back, but not before Reflet runs in my direction and puts her hand on my shoulder.
"Where are you going, Gab? We won, Themis is no more! Come here, there is so much to be happy about! The battle is over, we showed what we are capable of! The Ylisseans now fear what we truly represent. So come, don't be afraid, Gab!"
Her chirping only makes my nausea even worse, her happiness becoming a poison. There is no glory in cheering for blood.
I stare back at her, my eyelids heavy as I barely contain my disgust at the situation. Reflet frowns and gets her hand away from me, but I ignore her. The thoughts weigh on my mind like an anvil. The battle may be over, but the war hasn't. On the contrary, it only has begun and looked at it. If this is already a massacre what is the next battle going to be like?
That doesn't even account for the blood still seeping and tinting my arm. Damn those lacerations, I need that along from my left arm being hurt by that stray arrow. The shock spread from my feet to my mind, as only the worst comes to my mind. I'm going to die, no doubt.
Beginner's luck. There is nothing separating me from other people. And there is going to be the lucky day where I receive an arrow in the eye, or Goetia destroys my body or some other amazing option. Truly, this day has been amazing.
Therefore, I can't help but try to get away from this warzone, from the upcoming rape and pillaging of the city, the destruction of monuments, or whatever culture belonging to Ylisse. The sight of a broken-down corpse of a child is something I don't ever wish to experience, but I have no doubt that is going to become more common than failing at my task.
So with my will in my mind, I ignore the bodies and surroundings. Daydreaming to keep myself from becoming mad. Trying to escape to my own Parsagada, where my mind can rest. Where time doesn't exist, where I can read books at my own leisure and peace. Here are the tunes from my world, the ones that keep slipping away from my mind.
But in the end, I just don't want this. I never wanted to, but here I am. Truly, you don't get what you want. you never get it. But after all, this is the crush of reality and I must bear it. What am I without it?
Before long, the palace's architecture is exchanged for the remains of the city. The smell of smoke fills my nostrils, bodies are piled up in every street left and right. Vultures fly down from the sky, chipping away bits of flesh, the carcasses painting a river as a result of it. I sigh and just try to sit among the rubble. The remains of a column, but a makeshift chair nonetheless.
This is the end of the day, but the sunset hasn't arrived yet. The sun still shines bright from his kingdom, watching our suffering with the uttermost difference. May war reign, may peace reign, may the world live again or be destroyed, The king remains the same. Stuck with the same duty as in genesis.
I put my backpack on my lap. What can I do to ignore all of this? I open it and look for some kind of book to help my sanity. Perhaps like the palace, literature is going to be my savior. Something to distract my mind.
But before I can grab it, I see the black mirror-gazing back at me and my physique, my sickly physique. The old smartphone, a reminder of how much I've lost, the furie of the past screaming at me. I put it back in its place and try to grab the cover of any book.
Cândido, Hora da Estrela, memórias… fleurs du mal. But from gazing at them, my body gets stuck and my hand trembles on them. It has been a few weeks, but I'm not the same person as the last one who read them. The titles keep banging in my mind about their contents. Pangloss, Rodrigo SM, Quinca Borbas, maldito Baudelaire e sua obsessão com o pecado! I slam the book back into the backpack and close it. What do I do…?
"Gabriel."
I look at the owner of the voice. That damn woman, that wretched person. I don't hide my frown, my frustration clear as day. That leaves my old master to gaze back at me with the same expression. Frustration spreads in my mind, making the blood vessels in the brain boil so much, my ear catches it. I sigh. Why do I keep throwing tantrums at the most unnecessary of times?
I reply while making clear as possible my dissatisfaction."Yes?"
"Lost?" She asks back.
I groan, but why lie when it doesn't matter anyway?
"Sim. Perdido para um caralho."
Confusion comes to her face. Damn, I have gone back to Portuguese.
"Yes, I'm very lost" I once again tell her. My gruffness doesn't scare her, but it leaves her with just standing and staring back at me. We don't trade words for several seconds, the atmosphere thick with the battle still stuck in our heads. Or at least, in mine.
"What do you want?" I ask her. She remains impassive.
"I wanted to check on you. Henry told me that you just walked away before the commemorations started…"
"You can tell him I'm fine." I would rather have this little moment of solitude rather than have the eponymous checking of the butcher. "You can go now," I reply while I still try to avoid her gaze, although she doesn't move. She's not stuck, just unmoving.
"I don't have much to celebrate with them." Tharja says back to me without much of a fuss, not a hint of anger, only a fact.
I think about my options. Do I stay with the person who betrayed me and try to find a way not to make my mind boil or just stroll through this broken city, seeing the carnage and the decay first hand? With a sigh, I open my bag and try to find something again.
Upon closer inspection… I still haven't found anything that I could lose my mind into. The day still reigned supreme, just a few minutes ago this city ended. Reading is something that feels... wrong right now.
Meanwhile, Tharja watches my frustration with a resting face, while I try to foray and search the bottom of my backpack. I don't stare at her. Perhaps apathy is on her mind. Or maybe not. I don't think there is much to do.
Perhaps I should read something, right? I try to pick up a book and open it, but the words get out of my mind from the moment they are read. Tharja's gazes shock me as if they are judging, I know that I'm wrong. I punch my backpack and complain "Droga! Não tem nada pra fazer!"
I sigh and begin to breathe in and breathe out. Stop being so dramatic, you don't have time or patience for the book. Don't complain or feel frustrated or throw a tantrum like a child.
"You are very much fine." Tharja says sarcastically. But instead of walking back or going back to the party, she closes the gap between us and sits a few inches away from me. I try to ignore it, but unwanted companionship is one of the worst curses since you always receive it.
"If you want to tell Henry, just do it already."
"not interested" Tharja rebuffs. I'm going to be stuck with her for the next few minutes. Yep, you never get what you want.
"Well, wouldn't you rather go to see Reflet then? Isn't she the Vessel? It's a better option for you to just go to her. This is going to be a waste of our time," I gruff, my voice coming out like a whisper, my throat drier than the whole Sahara.
A few seconds pass and she still doesn't move, hiding her face behind her hair, while at the same time looking down at the ground as if a question took over her mind. I switch back to looking in front of me. Cracks upon cracks of destroyed architecture, blood sprayed down on the floor and serving as a mirror to my own worn out reflection. What a future to behold. Why do I keep trying?
Tharja stands up from the ground and gazes back at me. "I-I have some other more important matters to attend to." She said as she still looked down on me, although her voice didn't raise or anything. She gags for a bit before concluding our little conversation, or whatever you want to call this encounter.
"You made the right choice," I reply, the melancholic feeling still dominating my thoughts and my utter boredom. She frowns and before long, she goes away, leaving me yet again alone to deal with my matters.
After very seconds of inner debate with myself, I come to the uttermost conclusion. I have already wasted much of my time trying to look depressed and do nothing, so therefore it is a better idea to just go back to my tent and do it there. Not much of a difference, but at least, there is a roof over my head.
I put my backpack on and stroll down the city. The smell of smoke had gone away, leaving only the ruins behind. Soldiers went punching down doors and rounding up children and women and then took them away. I would rather not think about their fates. Please, at least,... just don't do that, for love of everything that is sacred and holy.
But despite the soldiers - and other less pleasant matters - the city is silent. Only me, my steps and the carnage. Eerie is the only way I can describe it. The city was big, whole crowds walked in the street, merchants announced their products and kids played. Not very much different from Plegia's capital. The only difference was on an architectural and cultural level, but the rest was the same in essence.
Well, my ramblings once again strike back. I need to stop. But before I can think of anything else, silence. I observe a shop on my left and from there I can only see abandoned books lying down in the ground.
Stopping in my steps, my sense of curiosity tingled in spite of the morbid environment and I decided to check the covers. I looked down at the book and lo and behold, it was written in Plegian, stating the word "Flux".
I look at my sides. There is no corpse on the road and beyond all that. Searching the contents of the other books, they all turn out to be dark magic tomes, with their purple or black covers showing the words "Ruin" or "Mire" and others with runes beyond what I could comprehend. Wait a moment, could this shop have kept these tomes?
I ignore my surroundings and enter the building. The shop is vacant, with no sound coming out or soul trying to hide away from the invading army. It is only me and the multicolored library with greens, blues, reds and purples. This is a tome shop. Why did I not think of it before?.
The search begins. From shelf to shelf, I look at every title I can see. More and more runes. I guess this must be the Ylisse's alphabet, or whatever they use to write. I put them back in place. God may not exist, but books are sacred.
Red, blue… what does that even mean? This is Awakening, like it or not. It may have been months or even years that I didn't play the game, but it isn't like everything from it was wrong… so what did the tomes look like?
I come across a red tome that says "Fire" in Plegian. At least they have the translation as well. No need to get a translator for other languages. So purple or black, dark magic. Red, fire magic. What are the other colors?
I pick up each of them and see if I could read them or not. If I don't, straight back to the shelf it goes. Blue… wind. I remove the blues and reds from my mind. So what is the only color left to check? What are the yellows?
I every copy, even the most insignificant, of the damn yellow tomes. I stop picking up the ones who don't fit the criteria, skipping entire sections of the store that are blue, red and purple. One final shelf stands before me, and only a few copies of the yellow tomes in sight. I pick up the first one. Sadly, the runic writing is meaningless to me, and so I put it back in, I don't have the time to learn another language.
The scavenging lasts for a few minutes until I find the curvy letters in front of me, the so recognizable Plegian characters standing in front of me, almost begging me to catch and read them. Without much of a fuss, I put it in the backpack.
Yes, it is stealing. But when there is nobody and the place is abandoned, fetching some item for personal use isn't the worst of vices. Or maybe it is. But at this point, the day has already been long. Robbing is bad and all, but if the items are just thrown around without a single care, is it theft? If that is the case, then we need to resurrect Assurbanípal to tell him his library has been robbed.
I leave the place with anxiety still palpitating into my hands. I had finally got something useful out of this whole tragedy. At least, there is some final hope. Maybe I have found the solution for the problem I have had since the inception of my stay here, but I will be patient. Maybe I was too harsh with Reflet and it is a good idea to check her out. After all, my stuff is useless anyways.
Well, I will be honest: I should have bitten the bullet and gone back to the tent and resolved the problem plaguing me. But now, not only did I have to listen to one speech, but to a second one too, all while the duke's daughter is with her knees stuck on the ground ans Gangrel's laughter resonates from the throne room.
The madman's cackle doesn't hide his intentions or the bloodlust in his eyes, while he plays with a dagger around the woman's neck, always close to cutting it, but not actually slashing it The sickening spectacle only makes me prefer gazing at the destroyed city rather than this. Let her at least have a quick death or else... it's not good to even think about that.
Meanwhile, Reflet looks at the scene with a grin, even though she doesn't laugh.
I notice that the other woman, despite experiencing probably the worst day of her life, isn't making any scene, even when Gangrel tells her, "Squeal like the little bitch you are. Show how truly whorish and disgusting all Ylissean are."
Good luck to her, please just get out of this mess.
Meanwhile, Reflet turns to us, almost as if already preparing another one of her speeches, and then, for just a moment, my and her eyes clash. A large smile forms on her face.
I don't understand what you are commemorating.
Confusion comes to her, but she shrugs once she realizes the people are watching her. We all have standards to meet, but I think there is one worse than anyone else's here.
Reflet gazes at Grangel, releases her aura and makes us cower in fear, stopping Gangrel's little play, the king almost cowering as well, but never dropping the blade. He does stop with the torture, thank god!
The Vessel approaches him, snaps her fingers and points at us. Gangrel turns his head in disappointment and growls but still tries to recompose himself. Despite all of this, his speech comes out like a growl at us for keeping him away from his "distraction".
"Yes, my fellow Plegians. We eliminated some of the filth that stains this fucked up place called Ylisse. Its pathetic and stupid people lay dominated, put in the place they truly belong. Don't fear everyone. Their punishment for their insolence will be swift. Anyone who dares defy my rules shall have their neck cut open."
"This is only the beginning of my- our revenge against those who have denied me- us of our lives. I will not rest until this entire country burns from west to east and south to north. They shall taste their own medicine and pay for what they have done to me tenfold. I don't need to say more, only the death of this bitch."
His anger made it unbearable to be in the same room as him. The king turned into a savage monster, growling, kicking at the ground, grabbing her by her hair. It makes me cringe and revolt my stomach, as the scene gets stuck in my head and makes for another headache to endure.
Gangrel leaves, allowing the woman and the Vessel to be the center stage. Despite the earlier brutality, at which part of the crowd vomited, Reflet remains static, showing no emotion after Gangrel's tantrum disguised a speech.
"Fellow members of the messianic sect. A part of our objective has been achieved. The dawn of a new era begins here. With the dust of previous eras we shall build it. We shall destroy this whole cycle and bring a new end to all things. No more shall the sun destroy the moon. No more shall we need to cry. The new shall eliminate all that is impure or spawned by demons. Children of Plegia, let us follow the path we have begun and do our sacred duty. Agrima!"
It is done. The plans are coming to fruition. Crowds smother the air, robbing my lungs while the energy prickles on me, making me tap my feet and grit my teeth.
I get out of there, needing to take a breath of air so as to not let my nausea take over. As I lose track of time, I gag the contents of my stomach as they arrive at my tongue and run to my destination. Is there any future left?
The sun settles and only the moon gazes at lonely me.
With only the smallest of fires alight, I read through the contents of the tome. The only thing I care about in the massive world of magic, tomes and whatever the people of Plegia and Ylisse want to classify with magic words. There are diagrams and other forms of explanation on the book, which reads more like a science article than something you could call "esoteric".
"What we call thunder in this tome is only one of the simplest reactions of the air around us. Remember when the clouds are up in the sky is because the matter materialized to its will. it is fair to say, any of thunder's spells is a brief, but potent consequence of this materialization and from there we want to achieve the potential that lies behind. We need to sense this matter in the air…"
After a few pages, I go over the possible applications and read some incantations or chants we have to do before doing it mentally. Instead of inner energy spreading through the little cracks of flesh, the air thickens and forms pressure on my hands, as if I was a satellite to it and not the generator of the reaction.
When I sense it, I run outside, not wanting the tent to catch fire, stop the incantation and let the pressure be released outside. Electricity comes out from my fingertips and discharges.
Mind you, it is only little sparks, but more than enough what I want in my mind. I get back in the tent, grab my backpack and take my cellphone. One of the few links I have left to my world and the thing I was planning to use.
I breathe in and breathe out and ready the discharge. So lithe so small. And yet, the percentage appears, going from 0 to 70%.
Did I actually do it? After all this time, it was possible!? I need to confirm this.
I push the power up button and the company's logo appears on the screen, the bright blues burning my eyes. But even then, I couldn't care less. The thing is working! My cellphone is alive!
Never I thought that I would have a day where seeing the photo of a red figure making a prayer sign above his head would be so comforting.
Wait, maybe I can-?
I hastily open the music app and choose the song. The little hopeful melodies begin, the joy overwhelming me. It is all I needed.
With glittering hands on collapsible land
We're praising the sun for the damage he's done
A ruinous eyesore, oh what is a mind for?
Just a knife in a lake, just an arrow in space
All creation is hollow, and a picture's a shadow
Just a symptom of love, with a lack of a cause
Now the city's dissolving, and heaven's inhaling
While the ocean is thinking of a surface reflecting:
Your glorious mind, your glorious mind
Your glorious mind, your glorious mind
Your glorious mind, your glorious mind
Your glorious mind, your glorious mind
Your glorious mind (Your glory is mine)
Your glorious mind (Your glory is mine)
Your glorious mind (Your glory is mine)
Your glorious mind…
…
…
…
…
Why is my vision so blurry? Little droplets come out of my eyes, my mouth dries out and only one left is left in my mind.
Finally, peace.
The chapter update was faster than expected, huh? anyways, hope you have liked this chapter. For the time being, the fic will not update until December(like usual to be honest), because I need to focus on my finals right now.
Although the fic will begin updating after that is done since I will be focusing my vacations on finishing writing this fic. Don't worry, I will not try to rush, if it is rushed, well… we have editing to solve any problems with awful pacing.
Well, immense thanks to Cavik for beta reading this chapter. And for you people for reading the chapter, I was surprised by the reception of the last chapter, I seriously didn't expect that people would comment much on it. But alas, I was very wrong. Thank you for all the reviews you have sent me so far, it was very much a motivator booster. Therefore, reviews are much appreciated, but you don't feel comfortable writing, that is fine.
Lastly, I participate in discord with other people, feel free to join if you want. Here is the link: Discord .gg / 9XG3U7a
Crowbars357: It wouldn't work, before anything, it would only entice her more. After all, it is easier to cause mayhem when there is no watching you, right?
Ascandas: Really glad you liked it! And that is a very nice analysis of him, and yeah, you are pretty right about him and his problems, although you are missing a part of the puzzle, a little detail that impacts him a lot. And lastly, I hope this chapter answered a part of your question. Hope you liked the answer
VGBlackwing: ok, so this is an alternate timeline where Robin, in this case, Reflet, never went or lived in Ylisse and was raised by the Grimleal(to be exact in the fic, messianic sect). Therefore, there is no future timeline and Chrom and Shepards have no relations to Reflet. Hope this help sort it out where the story takes place
Vigriff: Poor Gab indeed. At least he had some rest, even if it was on the worst day of Themis
2010si: Well, I would say more Soul for Grima(although, I got the reference). Reflet being reflet in this case, really random and unpredictable. Yeah, I made this because I always found it weird that fiction it seems that everyone speaks the same language, so I wanted to avoid that(I understand why this is made in the first place, try to make a story where the main characters understand complete different languages and more often than not, it would fail). Well, she didn't die… so yeah, we still have to see who is the Shepard who is going to die. Thanks for the kind words.
Cavik: Well, thanks Cav. To be fair, It could be gone way worse as you said, but it seems it went well. I always appreciate your help