In death, Saint Urbain, Teacher of Miracles, Spreader of the True Faith, no longer seemed deserving of those or any other of his titles.
In death, he was simply dead.
His pure white robes were stained with blood. His holy symbol no longer shimmered or glowed. His eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling of the Nexus, and his mouth gaped open. It made his face look as if he were desperately trying to reveal the identity of his murderer, but could not.
The crowd stood around, and The Champion stood within them. Taller than the rest, his body easily craned over the small mass of people, and he saw all the details of the Priest's body vividly.
"Stand back-!" Said a blonde-headed woman, one of Urbain's most devoted followers, who stood before the crowd and stretched out her arms. "You mustn't look upon him like this! You mustn't!"
Her eyes watered. Her arms stretched so far that they looked likely to pull themselves right out of their sockets. She faced the overbearing, murmuring group with fear, but determination.
"I said stand back!" She repeated. "If you truly considered this man sacred, then by god do not badger his corpse!"
There was a hesitation, a few members of the crowd pulled away. Most others stepped slightly back, but did not abate.
The Champion stepped forward, then, and stood next to her. He looked upon the crowd, "Have you not respect for the dead? Back off!"
The followers of God looked at him, blankly, and then started to back away. They wandered off into their separate corners, hard as that was to do within the Nexus, and were left to wait for the body to be cleaned while trying not to gawk at it.
"Thank you…" the woman murmured, and looked up toward his face. "You always manage to keep people here under control."
It's because they're afraid of me. He thought, but didn't say. He was a man who killed powerful demons and freely walked between life and death. How else were they supposed to feel?
"I…I just can't believe that someone would do this…" she murmured, turning back to Urbain. "Oh…oh god, he's gone. He's really gone…he isn't coming back."
He didn't know what to say to that. She fell upon the body, sobbing.
"He was our one hope! This world is so dreadful, and corrupt, and he was the one light that god gave us…and now he's gone." She spoke the last few words in a whimper so high that they could barely be heard.
He stood there, as she wept. Turning away to give her as much dignity as possible. When he did, he saw their eyes, looking from behind corners, around pillars, and he realized that what he had seen in them was not fear. No…those eyes were the same as those of Saint Urbain. They were dead. Anything resembling hope was gone.
The Blonde woman spoke again, interrupting his thoughts, "…could you…please help me clean him?"
He turned, and looked down at her, as she helplessly cradled Urbain's body.
"It's not dignified, to leave the remains of a Saint like this…it just isn't," she said. "But…I think everyone else is afraid to touch him."
"I understand," he said. And he bent down, placing his arms beneath Urbain's body. "We'll take him to the island of storms, and wash him in the ocean."
"Isn't that dangerous?" she asked, mystified.
"No…it was, but I've mostly cleared it out. And don't worry, I can protect you."
She nodded. Then grimaced as he started to pick up Urbain.
"Please…" she said. "Do not put him over your shoulder. Cradle him. Treat him...like a revered infant."
It was a strange phrase, but it made sense. He held Urbain and looked down into his blank eyes.
"Close his gaze," he asked her.
"Oh…certainly," she said, and did so.
They took Urbain away, and cleaned his robes, and his wounds. And by night they brought him back, looking only as if he were asleep. They had a funeral, then, and the followers of Faith wept openly. Across the Nexus, everyone heard. The Maiden, still lighting candles, Yuria, frowning, Freke, scoffing.
And above them all, Yurt, who simply crossed his arms, and watched.
-
"It's dreadful," Yuria said. "If there is a murderer in the Nexus you must find out who it is before you go out again."
"I have my suspicions," he said to her.
"Are they the same as mine?" she asked, softly, and nodded upward even softer. It was just clear enough.
"Yes," he said. "But I'm not sure how to handle it."
She blinked, "You aren't sure how to handle it? Do away with him. If he's going to kill us, he shouldn't be here. Lock him back up in that cage!"
"It's not that simple," he said. "He thinks that people who practice the Soul Arts should be treated the same as Demons. He wants to remove knowledge of them from existence."
"And then, as a user of the darkest of Soul Arts, what am I?" she said.
He looked up at her, and he felt his body quiver. It was true.
She kept going, "If you want me to be honest; I'm surprised that I wasn't his first target. You would think that he'd hate Witches more than anyone else."
"Some called Urbain a hypocrite…" he said quietly. "Maybe he was more offended by that."
"None of it changes the facts, though," she said. "How can you not stand against him in this? He killed your friend, he'll kill me."
"I do stand against it. It's wrong, but I don't know how to react. I don't know if he's too far to be saved, or if we can reason with him, and I don't want to kill him. Bloodshed leads to more bloodshed, and soon we're all killing eachother."
"Not if the bloodshed is preventative," she said.
He shook his head, "…I don't know."
"But how!?" she asked, impatiently. "How can you not know?"
"Because I don't know anything!" he said, and stood, pacing furiously. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a person anymore! I'm losing myself…I'm sorry, but I am. Do you think that's what a reasonable person would do? Kill him? Do you think it is?" He asked her with genuine desperation.
"You…you should know that…" she murmured.
"But I don't!" he said. "I'm fading away. As my soul is more and more exposed, without any body to hold it together, pieces of me keep floating away. My convictions, my emotions, my conscious thought is all fading, more than it was yesterday. I'm losing it, and I want to hold on to the things I have…I have a friendship with him, Yuria, do you understand that? It's a part of me. It's a thing that is still within my soul." He looked away from her now, he placed his hands on the wall and braced himself. "The things that I'm losing…those emotional ties…they're making me drift apart faster. If I keep letting myself lose them…I'll dissipate. I won't even be dead. There will be nothing left of me."
Then he felt her against him.
She whispered softly, "Listen."
He listened. There was silence.
"I don't hear anything."
"Listen harder."
He did. Around him he could hear the candles burning. He could hear a follower of Saint Urbain weeping. He heard Freke turn the page of a book.
"What do you hear?"
"…I don't know."
"People," she said. "People. They all depend on you. Even if they're afraid to say it. They're all grateful…I know I am. Now listen: as long as one single person who can remind you of yourself is here…any one of these people…you won't fade away."
"I hope that's true," he said. "But…I might forget them." I forgot my own mother.
"Would you forget me?" she asked.
"…I hope to god that I don't," he said.
"You won't," she said to him. "I won't let you. If you start to forget me…if you even start, I will be there, do you understand? If you start to forget anyone here, I will come for you, and I will do everything I can until you are yourself again."
"I don't think that there's anything you can do," he said.
"Give me some credit; I'm a Witch. We figure these things out all the time. And the best part is that we don't even have to follow the rules," somehow, he could feel her smiling against him.
"Why…" he said. "Why are you doing all this, when I'm already broken?"
"I don't see you as broken…but if you are, perhaps I have a tendency to love broken things."
"Love…?"
"Love," she confirmed. "And listen to this, because even Witches know it to be true: if there is one thing that will mend even the most broken of souls, it is love."
Love.
"But first, you have to stop Yurt. You can't have him staying around here murdering people. It won't be hard for you…you can't die."
"No, it shouldn't be…" he said.
"So go. Please, go."
He nodded.
"Alright," he said. "Not to worry you…but, if there's one person who can figure out how to kill me, it's Yurt…and if death is something I'm going to risk, there's someone I have to talk to, first."
She seemed worried at the very mention of his death. "I can come with you, if you like."
"No…I might be able to reason with him, but I have no doubt that he'll try to kill you. And you aren't bound to the Nexus like I am. I don't want to take that risk."
"Alright," she said. "But I'll be with you in spirit…who is it that you need to talk to?"
He moved away from the pillar, and faced the row of lit candles along the stairway. "Someone important."
-
"Hello," he said to the Maiden in Black.
She was so startled that she almost dropped the rod she was carrying. He immediately felt terrible.
"I'm…I'm sorry," he said.
She turned, and her face blankly watched him for a moment, as if she actually could watch. Then, she went back to lighting candles as if nothing had happened.
"Maiden," he said. "I mean…if that's a good way of referring to you. I honestly don't know if it is…it has been too long since we talked."
Still, she remained silent, just as she had that first day he had talked to her.
"I feel I may have done something wrong…I just wanted to see why you weren't speaking."
She murmured something.
"What?" he asked.
She just shook her head, and started walking up the stairs.
He pursued her, and angrily growled, "Now wait, if you have a problem, I want you to say it. We don't have time for silent grudges here, I would think you'd know that more than anyone."
She turned down toward him, and just said quietly, "Thou thinkst I hold a grudge against thee? Truly?"
He shrugged, "You…you act like it."
She turned her face toward the center of the Nexus, and shook her head. "No…nothing ist further from true. I findeth thee quite acceptable, in every circumstance. Anger ist an emotion wasted, rarely ist it not petty."
"Then why don't you talk to me?"
"For thou hast found a better lady; one more serviceable than I."
Beneath his helmet, his eyes widened. His entire body jolted.
"You're…you're jealous."
"If thou wisheth to call it envy, thou mayst."
"Yuria…okay; it's different. What I have with Yuria is not what I have with you," he said.
For the first time, the Maiden in Black seemed…confused. "She ist thy lady, ist she not?"
"Uh, in a way, yes."
"Thou wouldst fight for her, correct?"
"Yes."
"Then she ist thy lady, and thou dost need me no more."
"No," he said. "No, it's not like that. She's with me. I love her. I would fight for her, and I would die for her, but she is not my lady. Not in the way that you're thinking. Like…I would marry her," he said, and then regretted it as he said it.
"Thou wouldst take her to wife?"
"Yes, yes I would…I mean…" he looked around to make sure no one was listening. "Maybe…in the future."
"Why wouldst thou court her if thy answer ist only 'maybe'?"
"Because…" he tried to answer, and couldn't. "Well, fine, maybe that doesn't make sense. But it's still beside the point. I love her, but she isn't my lady. I'm not her Knight. Those are very different things."
"Differences, there are, or so thou sayst? I shalt inform thee when I spot the first."
"Fine! I don't care!" He said, throwing his arms up. "I wanted to talk to you more about something else. Something actually important."
She turned from him, "I hath told thee all that thou needst know."
"You haven't told me why you're blind."
And just like that, she went silent again. He regretted his approach at once. He'd been too direct.
Still, he had to keep trying. "Listen: I know that you're powerful. I know that you don't have to be blind…I just want to know why. Please, tell me that, because the way it looks right now-"
"Thou needst know nothing about me," she said. "My life is that of a Simple Candle Maiden, and I hath no story of interest to thee."
"I highly doubt that," he said. "You're a Demon."
"A Demon that ist nothing more than a Candle Maiden," she repeated.
"I'm just asking-" he started. But paying no heed to him, she walked away.
He just stood there, sighing. It probably wasn't worth trying again.
-
When he got to the top of the stairs, Yurt was gone, or at least wasn't immediately visible.
"Yurt…?" he said, as he walked into the area where they'd shared so many conversations.
"Yurt," he said again, glancing around. Somehow, it had gotten dark in here. He realized that the candles were out; Yurt had extinguished them himself.
"Yurt, I just want to talk. Are you in here? Are you willing to talk to m-"
And then something grabbed at him from the darkness, and in an instant, he was on the ground. He looked up, and he assumed that it was Yurt, but he couldn't see anything. He prepared for a blow to come, and put his shield up in front of him.
But instead of attacking him, Yurt pulled off his left boot.
"Yurt, what the hell are you…?"
Without saying anything, Yurt reached down to his ankle. There, wrapped around his flesh, was a sacred garment: The Nexial binding. It was that which bound him to the Nexus. The enchanted object that kept him coming back; the thing that he had told no one, not even Yuria, about.
Yurt placed his hand on the Binding, and his other arm easily swept past the Knight's shield and stuck a knife to his throat.
"Listen, and listen well, friend," Yurt said. "I do not want to kill you…but let it be said that I know how. And at this moment, I could. You have three options, in order of my preference: You will assist me in my mission, you will let me leave the Nexus peacefully, or you will die."
"Yurt…stop this…I'm the only hope for Boletaria, you know that," he managed to murmur.
"You?" Yurt scoffed. "I'm sorry, but once you succeed in your quest, this corrupt Earth will go back to exactly what it was, and the Old One will return, worse than before. No, you are delaying what you see as inevitable. The Soul Arts must disappear entirely. It is the only way."
"I understand Yurt, I understand…and we can figure out how to do that together. But we can't kill eachother!"
"You're naïve!" Yurt said. "Do you honestly believe that everyone here who knows the Soul Arts will just keep them secret? What if they're interrogated, tortured? All it takes is one person to spread information! But I'm done. I've given you my reasons. You help me or I leave, choose!"
He tried to see Yurt's eyes in the darkness, tried to see what expression his face showed…but it was too dark. And the knife began to press harder.
"I'm sorry, Yurt," he said. "You're an extremist. I can't join you."
He thought he saw the figure in the darkness frown, but he'd never be able to say for sure.
"Very well, then," Yurt said. "I will purify this land…and in order to do so, I'll need this."
And then he felt the binding on his ankle loosen.
"Yurt, what are you doing!?"
"I am taking the measures necessary to save this world," he said. "I assume that this garment is as simple as it seems? Your lady enchanted it…am I right?"
"It's…It's a piece of her dress…" he said, trying to speak despite the knife against his throat.
"How fitting," Yurt said.
He gave one last desperate kick as Yurt removed the binding, but it was to no avail. The knife slipped against his neck and cut him slightly.
"Careful," Yurt said. "You aren't immortal anymore."
And he felt it. He felt himself lose the connection to this place. He no longer felt the energy swirling around him and through him. Yurt held up the binding, embroidered with tiny golden symbols, and then bolted away.
He pulled himself up as fast as he could, putting his boot back on and standing.
"Yurt…!" he called. He considered yelling give it back! Like a child being picked on, but saw the folly in that. As he reached the stairs, he saw Yurt bolting down them, three at a time. He passed by the Maiden and shoved her aside, into one of the candles she was trying to light. The Champion took off after him, screaming his name, but one of them was wearing armor, and the other was unencumbered. Yurt bolted until he reached the monolithic archstones, and placed his hand on one of them: the portal to Stonefang.
And just like that, he was gone.
No! NO!
Yuria was right. She had been right. And now everything was in peril…including him. There was only one thing to do.
Without hesitating, he sprinted down the stairs and to the archstone, and pushed his hand into it. He didn't know which node Yurt had come out on. He'd just have to guess. He concentrated, focused his mind, and within a moment, he was gone.
And until he got that binding back, there were no do-overs.
-
Alright, I wrote this despite being sick, and I have a few promises to make:
1: The next few chapters are going to get progressively more intense.
2: There will be more of the Maiden in Black.
3: There will ALSO be more of Sage Freke. He's important to this plot, actually, very much so...but I couldn't find a place to fit him in here. All will be revealed in time.
4: Up until now I've stuck very closely to the game. I wouldn't say to expect some divergences, but I will admit I'm going to be playing a little looser with it for my purposes. Just a heads up on that.
Hope you enjoyed. Is Yurt an asshole? (well, yeah...) But despite that, is he in the right, here? What the hell is up with the Maiden in Black? Should Yuria have insisted on helping out? Is "I am completely losing my identity" a valid excuse for being a flake? Did I write it too mushy? Maybe. My brain's mushy right now. I'm going to go sleep.