888 DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL 888

【Content Warning: Violence. I don't usually believe in these. Normally I think that life is life, and we shouldn't go around bubble-wrapping things for some people, but just letting you know this is where the story's rating changes from T to M. If you're sensitive just don't read.】

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The expatriation never lasted beyond the second month. On the night of week eight it was a new moon, hanging black in the sky. The moon dared not peek below, it hid and in its shade sin festered. The greatest of evils plagued the lands like a curse. For the rest of her life, Violet would despair over that blackest of nights. She'd sporadically recount the amalgam of horrors whilst alone and in her final waking moments before sleep.

There were three choices that day that she'd always reminisce and lament. They were three mistakes on her part, critical enough that without them innocent lives may not have been lost….

The others' response to Violet's return from her solo journey was exactly as she expected: Chief Herkel was first to show worried relief and then shared some cross words. Testificate villagers were more predictable than anything else, and Violet was quite familiar with how they thought. She apologised to everyone in the village for worrying them. Even Meliora was put out, though frowning as she gently rocked Allium against her chest, she remembered herself not explaining things in the past. Violet shared what she'd acquired and she was forgiven within the day. It wasn't until one evening the week after that Violet met further negative repercussions.

Violet had managed to get the oak sapling to grow under a shelter she'd built that day. The desert sun was too harsh, but with the aided magic of the bone meal it had sprouted up to her knee. She'd need a lot more to get it to the size for bearing fruit. Even then, she wasn't sure what the magical enhancements would do to the taste of the apples. It was getting dark now, so with the thought this task was still worth working on in the coming days, she aimed to retire to her house for sleep. She was walking with these thoughts, between the fishermen brothers' workstation and the carrot farm.

And then she heard the urgent ringing of the bell: Emergency, danger, pillagers.

There were sounds of a furious charge: squeaks of many feet scuffing sand, snarling voices and arrows loosed. Violet panicked, her first thought was she had to get to Meliora and the baby right away. She ran for the library, and that was her first mistake. If only she'd rushed to get her crystal ball instead some of the coming deaths may have been prevented. If only, was a thought Violet would have a lot that day, and for the rest of her days...

Meliora stood terrified in the doorway, unsure of what to do. The pillagers were attacking the buildings on the far side but like a flood of violence they began spilling into view and chasing the residents. The savages were grey-skinned in tattered leathers with crude weapons: she saw axes, curved blades and crossbows. The regular villagers were unable to defend themselves. Like Violet they couldn't fight; it was a helpless slaughter. While running, Violet turned her head and saw an iron golem struggling against rope bindings. They'd been targeted first and both golems had teams of illagers trapping them with special nets. The golems resisted while many hands fought to hold them still as others attacked. They were incapable of defending right now. Under the bombardment, the one Violet saw was already riddled with cracks.

Violet pushed Meliora back inside, then pressed the door shut with her back. Pale and still for a second, one hand had a death-grip on the handle and with the other she pointed to Allium's crib and Meliora went to pick her daughter up at once.

"I have to call for help," Violet realised. Help might not get there in time but it was their only option. "I have to get to my room-"

Glass from a window shattered and they shrieked. Violet yanked open the door and saw her house across the way. Someone in there was smashing her bed, desk and possessions. She watched an illager walk out with her crystal ball in his hands, turning it over. Fire caught her gaze, the cartographer station was getting scorched from inside and there was weeping nearby.

Violet saw Berthar falling into view then. The burliest illager Violet had ever seen loomed over with an axe. Berthar seized the lower half of the strapping and pommel, his attacker responded by pressing down. The shepherd fought to keep the edge away but he was being overpowered. Violet ran to him and put her hands over theirs, adding her resistance. The huge illager chortled, the sound like a bubbling bog. Violet was too weak, they were all too weak. Even two against one, Violet's hands remained uselessly on the weapon as it slowly sank into Berthar's belly. His expression went from terrified to agonised to near-comically goofy when his blood and guts poured out. It stained Violet's hands and finally she let go, falling back while crying. The illager raised the weapon again and Violet scrambled away, running back to Meliora. Behind her came squelches she couldn't block out.

Meliora was trembling with the baby in her arms. Violet grabbed her and they ran, somewhere. Puddles of blood were blooming. Ovals of dark red like gaping mouths, and of course there were effusions spraying far and speckling the sandstone. A decapitated villager head lay by the corner of a building. At the opposite corner was little Everard, standing hunched and confused, just trembling. Every way they ran they were presented with more murder.

"The dunes!" Violet thought desperately, pulling Meliora with her behind a building and they ran around.

They meant to run by the backs of the buildings but up ahead came screaming. Ansel staggered backwards into view, clutching the stump of his arm while blood shot from the arteries like a sprinkler. He was followed by a smirking, dual bladed illager who took pride in spearing him through the neck. Ansel fell to his knees, gargling, and the tendons pulled like rubber as the killer yanked his sword back out. Violet could've fainted, or thrown up, but Meliora pulled her in another direction. They entered the tower house but not before other illagers who finished with their recent kills saw and followed.

Somehow Violet hadn't locked the door. That was mistake number two. Perhaps if she'd locked it, she'd have precluded the pursuit long enough to get to a window and jump, crawl back up and they might've made it over the dunes. Instead the door was kicked open while they took the first turn up the stairs and Violet cursed, realising her fault too late.

They only got maybe a quarter of the way up before Violet was grabbed. She screamed as she was thrown off the stairs. Her ribs bounced against rock and she hit the ground in a sprawl. Her head cracked against the hard floor, she wheezed while caught in a heady haze.

Meliora, no… please no…

This wasn't extortion. Why were they being outright massacred? What was even the point? Savagery for the sake of killing? How could Violet be absolutely powerless right now? She didn't even have her sword, nor her invisibility potion. After an epoch, the boots of their pursuers hustled down the stairs and passed Violet out the door. Violet finally managed to force herself up, and then staggered up the steps with drunken desperation.

She found Meliora almost halfway up the tower and not far from the window. She was slashed open from her right hip to her left shoulder. In her arms baby Allium was protected and crying. Meliora looked up, she was on death's door.

"Take her…!" Meliora garbled pathetically.

Violet felt her body balance more with resolve, and she took the crying baby from her mother.

Meliora stared. All the fight had left her body, except for her eyes, "I love you." She'd meant them both and then her neck fell with a fleshy slackness.

Oh how Violet wanted to get help for her friend, or at least kneel at her body and break down. She couldn't spare a second after being entrusted with a bundle this precious. Violet looked out the window and then behind her. The tower house was empty at that moment. If she jumped out the window she'd break her back protecting the baby. Violet ran down the steps. Outside she saw the mangled bodies of the dead and dying. Petra's neck was broken. Otto had a knife in his back and was still trying to crawl… somewhere. A few illagers were stalking about, culling the injured as easily as cutting grass. Nickolai was shaking against the side of a building, the one pinning him there started carving into him, and the pitch of those screams - the screams of a dying man was something Violet wished she'd never learned. Many buildings were ablaze, all furniture was smashed to bits and scattered across the path. Hell was real and it was happening here.

Violet was grabbed by the back of her neck and she screamed. She thrashed in blind terror, her feet left the ground as she was carried to the gathering site.

"This one doth appear human, Zann." The one carrying Violet spoke in their natural snarl, and he pushed her to her knees.

"That be 'cause she is, fool."

The person behind Violet grumbled and turned away for more pillaging. Violet noticed Herkel kneeling beside her similarly. Next to him was Idalia, then Dunstan and then Arbell. All were quivering in terror with their gazes lowered. Then Violet looked up at Zann who was half-sitting and half-leaning against the edge of the well. He looked cold and absolutely terrifying. He was definitely their captain. He studied Violet and she felt locked by his gaze as much as by the fear. Allium was still crying, and Violet was able to tear her eyes away from the gravity, and try to calm the baby so she wouldn't aggravate these violent men.

"We count fifteen dead, Sir," reported an illager woman with a serrated rapier. "Three children ran up the dunes." At hearing that Violet closed her eyes in loss. Illagers didn't normally kill children, but on their own they would die overnight. They'd never make it to another village, it was the same as if they had died. The woman finished with, "Just these four are left, and the baby."

The other illagers started to join them in surrounding the prisoners. Among them was the huge muscled one that killed Berthar, and the slender one with dual swords that killed Ansel.

A man who looked identical to the latter joined his side and reported, "Both golems hast been destroyed, Zann."

The one known as Zann finally shrugged off the well and took steps toward Violet. She instinctively held Allium closer.

"A human 'i Enim, where dost thou hail from?" His voice was more imposing than the other vicious tones she'd heard. He wasn't as big as the giant, but he looked physically strong.

"A-Arcacia…" Violet stuttered, shaking like a leaf, "I'm a researcher from Lan'Tim…"

"A researcher?"

"Yes, Sir…"

The woman barked a cruel laugh, one hard syllable. Violet couldn't help turning servile, terrified as she was of the monster before her.

Zann leaned over and she felt his breath, "The intent of keeping some unharmed is to question 'em for aught unusual. But thou are all we want." Zann then straightened and ordered his men, "Keep the human, dispatch the rest!"

Then horrendously the illagers converged on Herkel, Idalia, Dunstan and Arbell. They were skewered where they knelt. Violet froze again and reacted too slowly. There were shrieks, squirming and gargling. The woman illager laughed again. Shocked by the heartless brutality of that moment, Violet turned to the woman who was in her sights.

Her words were shrill like they were coming out of a wound, "What's wrong with you!? Monsters!"

It was her third and most deeply regretted mistake. Oh how Violet wished she'd simply stayed silent.

The illager woman stared. Then she walked over and Violet felt her throat close up. The woman wrestled with Violet for the baby and Violet shrieked, crying and begging as Allium was torn from her hands. Her pleading only amused them.

One of the illager men to the side shrugged, "Jarmila is quite heartless after all."

Zann did nothing.

Jarmila carried Allium to the well and held her up. She allowed the blanket to unravel and the baby tumbled out and into the water.

It was like something wide was plunged through Violet's whole chest. She couldn't take the shortest breath, she had no lungs to breathe. She knelt there in the most supreme horror. Her blackening soul was utterly vanquished in that moment. Around her were pointed blades, daring her to take a single step.

The horrors of that day kept stretching into new dimensions. Every time she felt like she was at rock bottom, this endlessly descending cavern found a new space, a new level of darkness. This was so beyond what she'd experienced during the zombie horde. It had destroyed her, and what ripped through next into every cell of her being: agony. Above the nearest building the new moon reigned. Violet wailed and lurched downwards.

"Let's take her back," someone said, probably Zann.

Violet may have been lifted up by the strong one, she was too beside herself to notice. She'd cursed the villagers with her arrival, and now the population had dwindled from twenty-two to just one. Only Violet was left, the sole survivor. The illagers finished packing the stolen wares into baskets and a line of camels began plodding out. The buildings were burning, wrecked and bloody.

When they passed the decapitated head Jarmila giggled and kicked it. It flew and bounced off a wall, leaking spinal fluid. The awful unmoving expression on its face belonged to Wendiah. Violet hung there and vomited, no one acknowledged it.

At some point Violet felt firm hands grab the back of her neck.

"Drink," came the order. Violet fought at first but her chin was seized. She was made to painfully gulp an invisibility potion. Her wrists had already been bound without her noticing. Then she felt the familiar tingling as she vanished from the inside-out. As the stars brightened at night time monsters began appearing. Violet was made to walk, getting dragged forward on faltering feet. She was amongst a travelling party too corrupt to even be a target for monsters. She was convinced that everyone here were devils from the most accursed nether realm.

In part, she disassociated. Physically she was trapped, mentally she couldn't compute all she'd seen and emotionally there was no trace of her heart left at all...

It would take three days of trekking north-west before the illagers would arrive at their camp. In all that time Violet was out of her mind with misery. In the day her captives would feed the camels, then look to her with nasty smiles and not throw so much as a scrap. That was fine because Violet still had some food in her inventory and she rationed it, sneakily eating pieces of bread at night. On the first two days she was made to walk by her leashed wrists and several times was so tired that she was pulled off her feet and dragged through the baking sand. The pain would overcome the tiredness in her legs, compelling her to grow more alert and fight to get back up. Her kidnappers avoided a similar tiredness by taking turns riding the camels but Violet was afforded no such kindness.

At night she was made to guzzle an invisibility potion so her captives wouldn't have to defend her from the monsters. They didn't need it, which made Violet wonder why they had it. Perhaps it was used for spying, Violet was probably followed back from her last journey after all.

She still had her stone pickaxe in her inventory. While dicey, in this situation it was as good a weapon as any. But even if Violet freed herself and raced across the desert, what then? She was so exhausted from walking throughout the day, and she'd never happen upon another village before night-time fell once more. The invisibility potions seemed to be stored in Zann's inventory, which Violet couldn't access. And besides, what she really needed was her crystal ball. She couldn't recognize the illager she'd seen take it. Her best bet was to tag along until she knew where it was, then she could steal it and message for help and be saved. Hobbling off without it would mean her colleagues at Lan'Tim wouldn't realise something was wrong for months. For these reasons, Violet didn't attempt breaking her bonds when everyone slept. She sat against the back of a lying camel at night, and on the outskirts of their circle monsters ambled about at a seemingly respectful distance. Her misery remained unchanged, and she only had a series of micro-sleeps where she was always confronted by images: red pools and scattered bodies in the burning village. A part of her was still standing frozen in that place, where time had stood still.

"Zann, what value doth thou regard she hath?"

Violet overheard that on the night of the second day. She was just made to drink another potion and so was having a lucid moment. The effects of the vanishing left tingles in her fingers and toes. The big one had forced her to drink it, and Violet turned her head to see him waltzing over to where some illagers were discussing with their captain. They were crouched by a campfire, the flickering flame playing on their grey complexions. As dusk sank rapidly into night, the colours grew more stark.

"To us she might hast little value," Zann admitted. While sitting on the cooling sand Violet strained her ears to listen. "To a mage, she could hast insights. I would to wot about this college she speaks of."

"Methinks we should'st kill her," it was the biting voice of Jarmila.

"I too receive there's no reason for us to take her back. We've never done so hence," spoke the baritone voice of the giant.

"Thou lack aforethought, Nedi," said an illager to the giant. He had his back to Violet, but she saw the dual scabbards on his belt. His face turned, "And thy viciousness blinds thee to the value of things, Jarmila."

"I agree with Sagan. Our ally hath been of great help to us so far," now said the one who looked similar to him.

"Aye, Bronis."

Sagan and Bronis looked a lot alike and had to be brothers. With a pang Violet was reminded of Otto and Derg. The way they'd snicker together while fishing by the waterhole Violet built. It was still hard to accept everyone there was gone.

"Our ally is not our leader," Nedi the giant pushed. "Zann leads us. We shouldn't risk the where of our main camp towards the imagining we might hast found something useful to him 'i that wench."

"Whom exactly are ye both loyal to?" Jarmila joined in criticising the brothers. "Our captain or some off-worlder mage?"

Unfortunately, Nedi and Jarmila seemed to be making the most sense to Violet. She sat very still and invisible, only an imprint in the sand. If the captain was swayed, she'd have to free herself and escape that night after all. Though her water pouch was near-empty….

"I be merely thinking of the good of the tribe," Sagan replied.

"Our benefactor hath not wronged us yet," Bronis tacked on.

Before the other two could retaliate there came a grumbling from their leader. They all fell silent. Zann adjusted his sitting for a moment as the fire crackled.

"We failed to keep the last curiosity we found for him. Hence that he knows we intend to make good on our word, 'tis important we keep the wench alive. We shall find out all she knows, and should our friend hath no interest, we shall dispatch her in time."

His word was final, the matter settled. It was terrifying, but no more so than every waking moment Violet had spent travelling with these beasts. She leaned back against the lying camel and willed her exhaustion to take her under. It was as if sleep were held back beyond an invisible line. Instead fitful flashes befell her, time lurching at sudden moments.

Violet had done her best to ration her water pouch but it ran dry. That last day Violet did pass out from heatstroke and was strewn over a camel. She wasn't conscious of being moved there, but one moment she was stumbling and choking in heat, the next she was hanging and blinking weakly at a camel's legs. Someone kept giving her water, enough to keep her alive it seemed.

It wasn't an outpost tower they reached but their main camp: a cave beneath rocky bluffs that protruded from a dune, lit up inside by many torches fixed to the walls. They stopped at the entry and Violet was given enough water and carrots to eat, inducing her to wake. Blearily she raised her torso and gazed at the sandstone that blended into grey rock. She was pulled off the camel and led along the downslope on foot. Her body hurt from ceaseless walking and malnourishment, her lips were cracked and throat dry. She saw other illagers, a lot more women and children peering around stalagmites and outcrops. Some were scrubbing clothes with washboards in wide bowls. One child was eating a baked potato. They all gathered to greet the pillagers who were welcomed back like heroes.

Violet heard more names and was reminded again of the ones she'd learnt. Nedi was well over six feet tall and wide too, his grey arms were like trunks and his body was a wall of muscle. Sagan and Bronis both had the most unique-looking weapons and fighting styles, those sabres were not for artless swinging. They were brothers if not twins, and Violet wagered they were blacksmiths who built those weapons themselves. During the journey she'd seen them both cleaning their swords with loving care. It disgusted her how violence was the driving force of creative passion for all of them. But what could she do? After all, their violence had proven superior and Violet hated it because she'd lost pathetically and been taken prisoner. When contemplating hate the woman illager Jarmila came quickly to her mind. Not just because of the unforgivable infanticide, but even among a people who seemed to always think of fighting, she was notably twisted. Then lastly, Violet was most frequently reminded of the name Zann, belonging to their serious and imposing captain. Many spoke to him and then listened intently. He sported a jutting brow that made his features all the more gaunt.

Their rampage was recounted to the welcoming crowd like a fun weekend outing. These were beloved soldiers who'd marched back to their country after war, idolised in the surrounding young eyes. Barbarians. Violet hated them all. After some chatting they continued on deeper, the spacious tunnel now underground. Violet tried to block out the surrounding awful conversations until the leader turned to her.

"And allow us not to forget thee, sweet." Zann smiled in a way that made Violet's stomach twist into knots. "In time thou shall say to us all about Arcacia. Hitherto, thy home is the pit."

Eagerness spread through his contingent. Violet panicked as multiple hands grabbed her from all directions. They dragged her up a mound of rock and to a dark manhole.

"No no no!"

Most of all, she hated being this helpless. She squirmed and they pushed and she fell. The hole opened up immediately and Violet screamed because she could see nothing. Soon the hard ground met her feet and her next cry was deeper from pain. She fell forward into damp, hard ground. She ached and started to cry. Above her echoed laughter that was carried away.

After a solid minute of crying, Violet lifted her head. There was no light. This darkness was perfect for spawning monsters but she could hear none. Violet started to grapple around blindly. Faint light came from the hole she'd fallen through but that was all. She touched uneven surfaces and soon came to the end of her rocky enclosure. Above were stalactites and one was dripping. Running down the surface of the far wall was water. Violet leaned into it and slurped, it tasted clean enough to possibly be coming from a source cube.

Aside from that sustenance, there was literally nothing in this hard, cold and dark prison.

That night she spent alone was the darkest of her life. Above, the lofty beasts celebrated. In near-total darkness she was forced to confront her very soul. She mourned every villager she'd gotten to know, and in her mind she apologised to each one and begged them to forgive her. Meliora upset her even more, like a fresh stab wound each time she pictured her. Then of course there were the children, who by now would be long dead. Violet saw the three standing side-by-side and still. They'd hated being still when alive, always fidgeting and wanting to continue their unending play. Now they were like sad little ghosts. Then there was baby Allium, abandoned cold and waterlogged in the well. At that Violet was knocked to her knees by physical agony. She sobbed that whole night, and when she finally did curl up pathetically to sleep she likely did so sobbing still. There was no comfort, not that she wanted any. The hardness pinched at her. Her emotional wounds sawed at her, like every nerve lay exposed. It was a worse heartbreak than she could've ever imagined.

What compounded her grief further was that she was fairly certain she was going to die.

Of course her biggest mistake in all of this was being too stubborn to leave at the first sign of trouble. Also, she'd never had the discipline to learn how to fight properly, even magic would've been useful. Instead she'd had to go a peaceful, academic route and so when it mattered she had no way to defend herself.

It was impossible to tell time in the pit. The coming imprisonment may have lasted centuries. Every now and then she was thrown scraps of food and she ate them because she was always starving. It never got easier, and Violet learnt many tumbles ago that rock bottom didn't actually exist in the mind. She was never going to hit bedrock, there would always be more levels of suffering.

Still, in the constant dark her eyes grew more sensitive. The pain never lessened, but she started to grow strong enough to handle it, sort of. She didn't believe she had the mettle to recover, and yet the pit became her cocoon. The woman she'd used to be was dead and gone. She'd been destroyed. But Violet didn't physically die, even when she was so scared of dying that she wanted to die to be rid of the fear. She didn't actually die, and in remaining she had to transform as a natural consequence. A rebirth into what…?

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【AN: So what comes next will be like a part 2 for this series. I also want to say thanks to lalez and zanganito who found this through the review game and left some awesome feedback!】