Ch.88: Darkest Times! Wendrake Vanderhart: Origin!
Things have been quiet for the last three days. Whether it was because of the miserable atmosphere of the Snow Zone or the attempted assassination on the traveling circus, things just weren't as lively as normal. For most, it was getting over the shock. For others, it was the boredom. For one Medicham…
It was the dread.
It was around noon as the circus traveled through the open snow. The ride was bumpy and difficult, but they were more than equipment to brace the weather. Ava was taking this time to make a lunch, consisting of a sandwich, a side of fruit, and a bottle of whiskey.
It wasn't for her, though. It was for someone else…someone who had to be kept sequestered from the others until they got things sorted out.
Ava sighed after she finished making the sandwich, then picked up the tray. She didn't move from her spot for a moment. 'It's been three days, Morgan…when are you going to talk to me?' She bared her teeth, unsure if she should be feeling betrayed, angry, or concerned. It's been a rough couple of days trying to sort her emotions out.
That tattoo wouldn't stop repeating through her mind. She felt like it was branded into her eyes. She couldn't look anywhere without being reminded of its ghastly appearance.
The tray shook her in hands. The vibrations sent the whiskey bottle over the side, but it was caught in time by Ava's telekinesis. She calmed herself, taking deep breaths, then brought the bottle back onto the tray.
"He can't avoid the topic forever…" She turned and made her way through the connected trailers.
She barely muttered a 'Hello' to anyone she passed by, with her mind still swirling in anticipation. Not one word was uttered from Morgan after he revealed his secret. He silently barricaded himself in a storage room found at the end of the trailers. Ava only ever came to bring him food and attempt to pry answers from him. His lips were sealed, whether for secrecy or regret, she wasn't sure.
Lost in her own world, it took a couple tugs to the robe for her to realize someone was trying to grab her attention. She looked over her shoulder and was greeted by Cheri, her daughters, and her son, who was sound asleep in Abby's arms. While her own children were mostly acting the same, Cheri's mood had dipped after what happened with Morgan.
Ava wondered if the Pikachu knew the full scope of the issue. How do you even explain that to someone, especially after was almost killed during the event? It didn't take a mind read to figure out what she wanted to hear.
Ava held the tray up with her telekinesis, then bent down to be closer to the Pikachu's level. She took a deep breath, then touched her shoulder. "…Everything's fine, sweetheart. Just go hang out with your friends."
Cheri's frown worsened. "…Why is Mr. Morgan avoiding us?" Barely knowing anything about the shadows and heralds, yes, but she had a lingering suspicion based off what she overheard from the fight.
Ava closed her eyes for a moment. What made this all worse…how were they going to explain it to Team Ravenfield…especially Tony? Sometimes Ava hated being the responsible one.
She tried her best to put on a smile and patted the young one's head. "Just…give it some time. Everything's alright, trust me. I'm…sure your mom can better explain this to you." She stood up and retook the tray in her hands.
"Ms. Ava?"
"Yes Cheri?"
"…Can you tell him I said 'hi?'"
"…Of course, sweetheart."
After their exchange, Ava continued down the trailer carts, now unsure if she was feeling more or less uneased. Cheri had similar thoughts as she turned back to her friends, who did their best to comfort her through small hugs. There wasn't much to say. Silence, for now, was preferred.
Nothing but darkness and bumpy roads. That's all the Hypno saw for the last three days. Not one word was uttered from him in that time. He has been silent, contemplating everything. His life, his choices, his actions…and it would all circle back to him feeling silently miserable, though his face never showed. Emotionless and numb. He just didn't have the motivation to express how he felt.
Right on schedule, as he predicted, the door to the storage room creaked open. Not a glance had to be given nor a sense of the magical aura. He knew it was Ava, not even having to look at the hands that presented the tray of food to him. He didn't look up to her, only staring at his lunch…or dinner…or whatever, he lost track of basic time.
Ava sat down in front of him and rested her arms in her lap, staring firmly at the silent Hypno. Without looking up, he reached for the sandwich and curled his fingers around it, not immediately picking it up. Ava's brows furrowed. Morgan could feel her silent disappointment…perhaps hurt feelings. He didn't blame her.
He lifted the sandwich and took the first bite out of it. It was so silent, Ava could hear his chewing with near perfect clarity. One could drop a pin and it would be treated like a siren went off. There was nothing but the tension in the air between them.
"…You're gonna have to say something eventually."
"…" Morgan took a second bite of his sandwich.
Ava glared. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, Morgan? Anything at all?" She paused briefly. "…Is Morgan even your real name?"
Morgan stopped eating, subconsciously reaching for his arm. It was wrapped in bandages again, now seen since the eradication of the left sleeve. His middle finger scratched at the bandages.
Ava huffed and pressed her hands against her eyes. "…I can't believe this…I just can't. Of all the secrets you kept from us, I would've never believed you to be in league with the shadows." She glared. "And I didn't expect you to be the Assassin of Darkness."
That was the first time she outright said it to his face. He wouldn't say a thing or make a reaction, but it was true. That tattoo was different from what a worshipper bared. It was a mark from the Shadow King himself.
Ava slapped her hands down. "How can you go on without saying anything?! Do you have nothing to say for yourself?!" She panted quietly, while Morgan's grip on his sandwich tightened. She eased up and pinched between her eyes. "…I don't want to be mad at you, Morgan…I really don't…I can't…but…do you realize how…infuriating this is? You were a mass killer during that dreadful war…you killed soldiers, respected generals, and did the bidding of that monster. A monster who took Garret and Alex from us…a monster who tried to kill Willow…and you have nothing to say for it?"
Nothing was said. Just an uncomfortable silence. He hesitantly tried to keep from eye contact. Ava sighed and rubbed her temples. It was too much for her to process. A part of her wanted to believe this was an elaborate nightmare that's been going on for what felt like three days. She couldn't believe a friend of hers…was a monster like the rest of them.
It was about now where she gave up for the day. She made a motion to get up and turn herself to the door, but a hand snatched her wrist, surprising her. She felt the Hypno's hand trembling against her. She only remembered one other time she felt this kind of shakiness from his person: whenever the Shadow King was involved.
He pulled her back down, then retracted his hand. Curious, the Medicham rested her arms in her lap while Morgan took another bite from his sandwich. He then went for the whiskey bottle and opened it. He lingered for a moment before chugging half the contents down in a single chug. Something about the way he was drinking, in his eyes, made him look sad…and desperate.
He set the bottle down and wiped his lip. Finally, he locked gazes with her. "…I have made more mistakes in this world than anyone else." He smiled, though it was a very distraught smile. "I remember telling that to Tony a while back, before Ravenfield and his friends showed up. When I said that to the boy…I couldn't have been more literal even if I tried." The smile fell, now dry of emotion. A solemn glare piercing at the floor. "I am a man who has kept secrets from everyone. No one knows who the real me is.
"Morgan Tenebris, Giancarlo Clanarrow, Alonzo Aurum, Valentine Terras…I've gone by many names. Different identities, professions, homes, etc." He closed his eyes. "Because, then and now, the true name of Morgan Tenebris is stained with sin that can never be washed away…
"My true name…is Wendrake Vanderhart."
"Wendrake…Vanderhart…" Ava mumbled.
Morgan pulled out his flask, then carefully poured the whiskey into it. "You've always wondered how I still manage to look youthful after so long. In truth, I've had a lot of practice. Thanks to some practice from my string magic, I can subtly alter my appearance to look just a little older than I am." As a demonstration, he showed his hand and wrapped it with string. His skin suddenly looked a bit wrinkly. Another shift and the skin was baby smooth. "If I'm remembering correctly, I might be five-hundred twenty-seven years old…give or take a few years."
Ava narrowed her eyes as he dispelled it. "And we were none the wiser. There was always something about you that felt particularly specious." She raised her brow. "Would this also have something to do with you never getting drunk?"
Morgan forced an uncomfortable smirk. "Who knows?"
"What does that mean?"
"From birth 'til I turned twenty-five, I never had an ounce of alcohol. Not even wine." He closed his eyes. "I've never gotten drunk before. I heard that most alcoholics go through drinking because they hit a crisis in their life. Lost job, death of a loved one…all that horrible stuff." His throat tightened. "It's the only sense of relief you can get away from the pain…I pray sometimes that, one day, I might lose myself to my liquor…"
Ava's eyes widened. "Morgan…what?"
Morgan held his face. "Ava…I want to make something very clear to you. I don't align with the Shadow King anymore. I denounced my loyalty to that monster centuries ago. I'm on your side."
"Morgan…I'm willing to believe you on that much…" She narrowed her eyes. "But why did you have to hide this from us?"
He sighed and pressed the back of his head against the wall. "Don't get me wrong here…when I first met you guys, I wanted nothing more than for you all to leave me alone. I've worked my whole life without relying on others…and I wanted to keep it like that." He clutched his wrist. "I've had these…urges that I had to control for the last five hundred years." He gritted his teeth. "A part of me wanted to kill myself so I never had to harm a single soul again…but something kept me from doing it. Maybe my own sanity…or my regeneration.
"But each failed attempt to end it there furthered my realization…I was living in a world directly affected by the actions I took to serve a man I deemed God." Morgan held his head and growled. "He used me…I was swallowed into the darkness of his flattery. I couldn't see I was walking straight into the abyss, with him guiding me. He prayed on my state of weakness…and I became the monster I wanted to reject."
Ava understood why he didn't say anything. It was a habit after five-hundred years. She betted he never had any personal contact with anyone. Maybe a coworker here and there, a neighbor perhaps, but his early behavior made far more sense now. He wasn't some antisocial bounty hunter. He wanted to stay as far away from the world as he could, so his past could forever be burdened on top of him.
…And all that changed when he met Garret.
"You've been alone for so long until you met us…" Ava looked down. "…For five centuries, no less."
Morgan sighed and scratched his neck. "It was rough at first…but I managed somehow."
"…What was it like?"
"Hmm?"
"Your life? Who was Wendrake Vanderhart? The person…the herald…who was the man that became the one sitting before me today?"
Once again, a question he was thoroughly expecting, and thankfully one he was prepared for. Three days gives you a lot of time to comb over some of the important aspects of your life. "The story may seem bare…but mine could be the downfall of a man and him trying to atone for all his mistakes." He rubbed his eye, then leaned into the wall.
"…Life was good for me. Nothing spectacular, but…wonderfully average." He closed his eyes. "This was a time before magic became a known thing to me…I wasn't aware I was the few who had the hidden potential to learn magic. I was just a normal Hypno back then. I worked a mail delivery service, where people gave me their letters and packages and…well, deliver them, obviously. It was busy work, but one I didn't mind.
"I didn't have too many friends…maybe a couple, though I hardly remember them." He frowned. "I do remember her, though…"
"Her?" Ava asked.
Morgan sighed and hugged his legs. "…You have to understand something first. I spent five hundred years rejecting the kindness and friendship of others. I never loved anyone with my heart…then I met Clara and…I had second thoughts." He held his face. "Five hundred years, not feeling anything for another woman, yet Clara was the second woman to ever make my heart skip a beat."
"Who…was the first?" Ava asked with a raised brow.
"…My fiancé, Senara."
Ava's eyes nearly bulged from her skull. "F-F-F-Fiancé?!" She flailed her hands around. "Hold on! You were engaged?! Seriously?!"
"Is it really that shocking?" he asked, not so much offended, but curious.
"Don't get me wrong, but…you weren't the biggest people person back in our old days. And…wait…you mean to tell me no other woman has ever caught your attention except for Clara?"
Morgan rubbed his head. "My heart yearned for Senara…I spent five centuries trying to remain loyal to her. Clara…snuck into my life, I guess." He sighed. "I'm sure she would've understood…"
"You poor thing…"
Morgan glared. "Though…I kept her memory in my heart for so long…because…because…" He held his face. "…It all started in the spring, three months before the Grand Imperium War was officially declared…"
"Wendrake! Wendrake, where are you?!" shouted a Garchomp, stomping through the mailroom.
"Over here, Britail." The mid-twenty Hypno walked out from the back, carrying some wrapped packages in his arms. He wore a linen shirt under a red doublet that was undone with blue breeches black flat shoes. He set the packages on the table before massaging his wrist. "What is it?"
"What is your schedule like?" Britail asked.
"You mean aside from traveling halfway across the region to deliver mail?" Wendrake asked with a raised brow. "I would say pretty open."
"It better be. I need you to deliver a letter for Morcant Angwin."
"Angwin? Is he the blacksmith a few buildings from ours?" Wendrake asked.
"Yes. He had a letter delivered to him two weeks ago due to a pressing matter regarding a family member. Or…rather, the safety of a family member. I do not know much on the detail, but this is something popping up in Cotton Field Town. Something about a string of murders taking place."
"Murders?" Wendrake flinched at the thought. "Oh my…my regards to Angwin's relative's safety." He sighed. "I do not think that is the first time I have heard about murder recently. It feels like crime all around has been going up. Could it be a plague?"
"It could be. Some of my associates from across the region told me of their observations. Criminal activity has jumped significantly. It is almost like something in the air…or maybe something that can be felt…is affecting this bad behavior."
"What? Like some sort of omen?"
"Pure evil. Have you ever heard the legends of the grudges of Pokémon that have never been let to rest? They say that when a Pokémon's grudge is at its strongest, it can affect the will of others to make them as twisted and vile as the feelings buried deep in their heart. Pure, uncontained evil intentions that us normal folk have played in our thoughts."
Wendrake rolled his eyes. "Exaggerating much. It may as well be a plague."
"Regardless, Angwin is giving confirmation for his relative to come live with him. Since this just came up in a couple weeks, he does not know the state of his relative. It is best you get this letter out to him quickly. We cannot do much for anyone else suffering from these murders, but at least someone might live through it."
Wendrake leaned against the table and thought it over for a moment. "Err…Cotton Field Town is three weeks away, even by Rapidash."
"Is that a problem?"
"Not necessarily, but…" Wendrake sighed and scratched at his neck. "See, uh…the thing is, Senara and I have been engaged for the last two months and we were…planning on getting married pretty soon."
Britail's eyes widened. "Oh…oh, I see." He sighed. "Sorry I asked. You are normally the most diligent about getting the deliveries made. It was only logical to ask you first. I could ask someone else and-"
"Hold for a moment," Wendrake firmly requested, raising his hand. He sighed and tapped himself on the forehead. "Look, I do not want to delay a letter like this, so…I will talk it over with Senara and have my answer out to you by tomorrow at the latest."
Britail smiled. "Ah…and this is why I like you, Wen."
Wendrake smirked and brushed it off. "You know this means you owe me one hell of a wedding gift, right?"
"I will be sure to bring you the biggest bottle of whiskey I can afford!"
Wendrake shot him a deadpan glare. "Must I keep reminding you I do not drink?"
"No, but your future wife does." Britail smirked. "Maybe you should reconsider since you two will be living together."
"I have seen what Senara acts like while drunk. I prefer keeping some level of awareness." He rotated his shoulder, then patted Britail on the arm. "I will go speak to her now. Mind if I take an early leave?"
"Given you will be getting this letter out tomorrow, why not?"
"Potentially, Britail," he reminded firmly as he left the building. The Hypno sighed and held his forehead. "Why do I always have friends who are daft in the mind?"
The sun was setting as Wendrake set up the dinner table for him and his fiancé. Senara was a Mienshao, dressed in a blue and white bodice with sleeves that allowed her long whips of fur to hang out. She was writing in a journal of hers as Wendrake set down her plate.
"…So, you will be gone for at least six weeks," Senara concluded after discussing the matter with her fiancé.
Wendrake sighed and sat down in the chair opposite to hers. "Afraid so, my darling. They want me to get that letter out as quickly as possible before Mr. Angwin's relative meets any demises. A might shame what is going on in Cotton Field Town, but none my concern."
Senara sighed and poked at her food with a fork. "And we were planning on getting married soon. I did not expect you to make a run that far away. My fault for not foreseeing this."
Wendrake raised his hand and brushed it off. "No, no, I should have realized myself." He looked down at his food. "It would be a long ride there and back, but…"
Senara reached over the table and rested her hand over his. "Wendrake, if you must, I will not stop you."
He cupped his hands around hers. "I do not want to make you wait."
Senara smirked. "I had to deal with you running off before. I am more than willing to wait. Besides, I could always visit my sister in the next town over. She would keep me company until then."
He sighed. "You are an angel." He kissed her hand, then leaned back into his chair. "I promise not to hinder in my run. As soon as I get the letter dropped off, I will come back for you."
Senara smiled. "Take your time, Wendrake. I mean it." She chuckled. "Although, since I will be waiting so long for you to return, I do have a little something for you."
The Hypno raised his brow. "Such as?"
She stood up and walked to a cabinet. "I was planning on giving it to you the night before our marriage, but I cannot put off with not giving it to you." She pushed some jars out of the way and pulled out an item wrapped in paper.
It was small, probably no taller than a standard glass. It was flat as well. It could be a small pocket notebook. He has been meaning to get one of those for himself. Or perhaps it was a case for a pocket watch. That would be nice. Never had the need for one, but it would make it look quite dashing.
Senara handed the wrapped gift to him. "I hope you like it," she said with an odd smile.
Wendrake was now suspicious as he pulled the paper apart. It became clear from what he was holding, it was some metallic object. There was something at the top that felt different from the rest of the body. It felt like…a cap.
Once the last of the paper was discarded, he looked to his gift with a mix of curiosity and deadpan amusement. It was a silver-colored flask with his initials etched into the front. 'W.V.'
Why wasn't he surprised by this?
He pinched between his eyes. "Seriously?"
Senara hooked her arms around him. "Come now, Wendrake! At least join me in a drink before you have to head off tomorrow! A little wine, I promise!"
He pushed her off gently, with a small smirk showing. "For the hundredth time, I do not do alcohol." He waved the flask around. "Was this what you had planned before our marriage? Trying to entice me the night before? Make me break my oath through temptation of liquor?"
Senara hid her laughter behind her whips of fur. "I have not the foggiest idea of what you mean. It was only a present I thought you might like." She waved her hand at him dismissively. "It is not like you cannot put standard water inside. Although…" She smirked. "There would be nothing wrong if you break your oath for just one night. The wine I bought is simply divine."
"Tsk. You are horrible, you know that." Wendrake stood up and walked away in a playful fit. "I have important business to take care of tomorrow and all you can think about is getting me drunk? How could you!"
Senara laughed and wrapped her arms around his. "Oh, do not be a prude. You would very much enjoy the taste of line. Perhaps some gin or whiskey would suit your palette."
"I am beginning to think you and Britail are colluding against me."
"Oh, you know about that already?" she joked.
He grabbed her shoulders and smiled slyly. "You make me mad." He pressed his lips against hers, which she happily melted into as her arms snaked around him. He pulled back for a moment and gazed into her eyes. "The moment I get back, we'll get married. Try and hold out for me."
"Of course." She hooked her arms around his neck. "…Not even a sip-?"
Wendrake abruptly dropped Senara, who yelped on impact, and walked back to the dinner table. "The food is getting cold."
Senara shot up and dusted herself off. "You uncouth fool…cannot even test the waters and see to it that your taste buds actually accept the experiential taste of a fine wine." She smiled coyly. "I cannot tell if you are playing hard to get."
Wendrake chuckled. "Just getting my fun out before I leave you to suffer without me around."
"You break my heart, my beloved!" Senara spun around and leaned against her chair. "Why must you torture me so?!"
"Because it gets you all dramatic and I love that about you."
"You want dramatic?" She pointed at the cabinet. "Fetch me the wine! I will SHOW you dramatic!"
Wendrake walked back to her and took her in his arms. "…I cannot wait until we are wedded…"
She eased and held his arms, snuggling her cheek into him. "As do I."
Wendrake recalled what Britail said about the rise in aggression and…evil intentions. Bandits and criminals. He shouldn't be too worried facing them himself, but…Senara…
"Senara…can you promise me something?"
"Hmm?"
"…Please be careful while I am gone."
"Always."
"That is all I ask."
They faced each other and shared a passionate kiss, holding one another close to feel the full experience.
Things…Things were looking alright for the time.
Wendrake never saw anything like it. He couldn't believe what he had witnessed. He and his Rapidash companion were racing down the road, back to town, with the memory still fresh in their minds.
There was nothing like it that could be explained. An entire town razed to the ground, everything totaled and burnt to ash. He remembered the number of corpses hazardously thrown over the town. Blood was painted on the buildings and ground. There were no survivors he could see. The man he was supposed to deliver to was among the slaughtered. He doubted anyone could've survived.
Wendrake gripped tighter on the reigns, aggravating the wound he sustained on his left hand. He got that when he examined the carnage and came across an unusual sight. Evidence suggested a fire broke out during the mayhem, a particularly strong one. He happened to feel heat coming from a source and investigated. What he saw was not natural flame.
He has seen orange, red, blue, even purple flames in his lifetime from various different Fire-Types. What he saw, though, was a flame devoid of light. Black flames. A flame that gave off no illumination. A pitch black as a starless sky. There was nothing he could explain about it, other than it hurt worse than any other flame he touched.
Something about it did fill him with an odd sense of dread. It was like being near it not only burned his physical body, but also burned into his mind. It felt like his confidence was being eaten into it. What he couldn't explain, aside from that, was how that fire was still burning. The raid didn't look like it occurred recently, based off the dry puddles of blood he crossed.
'Is this…some form of wizardry?' he thought to himself. He held his head and sighed. 'I have been away from home for too long.'
Wendrake just wanted to forget about everything and go home to be with his soon-to-be wife. He wished his Rapidash could go faster. Speaking of which, he noticed the horse was galloping less and less until that of a mere trot. Wendrake whipped the reigns. "Hey. Why are you slowing down?"
"Pardon me, Mr. Vanderhart, but…" He saw the horse sniffing the air. "It is just that I am detecting something in the area…I could be wrong, but it smells like fresh blood…"
"Fresh blood?" Wendrake hadn't noticed the storm clouds rolling in above him until lightning struck thunderously. The Hypno looked around cautiously. "We are only twenty minutes from home…" He glared and slid off the Rapidash. "There must have been an accident. Where is it?"
"This way." The Rapidash trotted in the direction of the smell, with Wendrake following behind.
They parted some branches from their faces as they came closer to the site. As they got closer, Wendrake spotted the wreckage to a carriage. The smell of blood also caught inside his nose. His eyes widened. The smell was strong. Even if the transporters were drunk off their minds, he should not be smelling this strong a smell.
Wendrake raced through the bushes until he stopped before the scene. To his horror, it wasn't the site of a crash. The two Mudsdale that pulled the carriage were sprawled on the ground, laying in a pull of their own blood. Knife wounds were seen over their bodies, along with scratches and bruising on their hooves. They were fighting back.
A look at the carriage also suggested this was an ambush. The wheels were blown apart by, what he could assume to be, a Shadow Ball or Seed Bomb. The damage done to the bottom half of that side but not the other suggested someone was waiting for a carriage to pass by and took out the one wheel.
Wendrake curled his fingers. "Bandits. They were staking out any carriages that were heading back into town."
"You mean they were not leaving town?"
"No. Based on the direction this carriage is facing and the wheel that was taken out, it is likely this was someone that was heading into town. Visiting or maybe returning from somewhere." Wendrake bared his teeth in disgust. "How sickening…for someone to take a life for valuables."
The Rapidash trotted closer to the carriage. "What a disaster to return home to…"
The clouds rumbled as the first drops of rain started to come down. Wendrake examined the dead transporters while Rapidash looked inside the carriage, resting his hoof over the window. He breathed a little bit of fire to get some light inside.
"I see the dead vic-" All sound escaped his mouth in a long, drawn out gasp of horror. It was strained, trying to hold back the scream he wanted to so desperately get out. His eyes flashed with terror as he stumbled back from the carriage, falling onto his rear.
Wendrake whipped his head around. "What happened?!"
Rapidash turned to Wendrake with bared teeth. Wendrake narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The way he was looking at him, as tears started to leak from his eyes…they were eyes of sorrow and sympathy. They were telling the Hypno 'I am…so sorry…for you…'
Wendrake glared. "Who…is in the carriage?"
Rapidash couldn't speak. He covered his eyes, crying into his hooves as he fell to his side. Now fear stirred inside Wendrake as he turned to the carriage. Someone in there that could incite so a reaction from his steed AND for his own friend's sake…
Wendrake didn't want to move or look, but he had to know who. His legs, wobbly and hesitant, crept towards the ruined carriage, baring a fist that dug his nails into the skin of his palm. A shorted breath passed through his clenched teeth.
He placed his hand atop the carriage door and pulled it open, eyes sealed shut as he had second thoughts upon looking. He felt his heart racing wildly. The apprehension killed him, as a voice in the back of his mind was telling him the worst possible person to be sitting in this carriage.
'She said…she'd be gone…to visit her sister…'
A moment passed after his eyes opened. He fell to his knees. Hands were shaking. Breath was shorted into consecutive gasps. Eyes were shaking, the size of pinpricks, with tears pouring out over his cheeks.
"No…why…why did this happen…?"
He couldn't look away, even though he wanted to. He wanted to believe the body in the cart wasn't the Mienshao he knew and loved. He wanted it to be someone else. Anyone but her. He didn't want to recognize the face. He didn't want to know who this person was. He wanted this to be anyone but her.
His knees got weaker, forcing him to drop forward and support himself by his hands. His body shuddered with agony and grief. The Mienshao was seen sitting slumped in her seat, with only a single knife embedded through her heart. It was a throwing knife. Whoever…did this…must have thought she was coming out to attack. She had fallen back into her seat right as the knife hit its mark.
Tears dripped from his eyes and to the ground. He couldn't speak. He couldn't make a sound through his voice, which was likely cracking from strain. His throat felt tight. His body felt hot, cooled only by the rain pouring over his body.
He dug his fingers into the soaked dirt. His teeth were clenched so tightly, one feared they would fracture. He took deep, shuddering breaths, filled with a storm of emotions that he couldn't properly handle. The worse possible things can happen to anyone without them even knowing. Wrong place, wrong time. That's what Senara was the victim of. A bandit raid that she got unlucky to be in.
Wendrake threw his head back and screamed out into the sky, with thunder drowning out his wails. The tears flooded from his eyes as he screamed, the only sound he could make. A cry of agony that left those who could hear chilled to the bone.
Five days. Five days have gone by for Wendrake since Senara's murder. In those five days, he hadn't once left the house. He would be found sitting in his chair, alone and broken…just like the rest of the house.
A violent five days had taken place for him. Consumed with never ending anger, he had destroyed every item in sight. His table was in pieces. The cabinets were ripped from the walls. Almost every bottle of liquor in the house was smashed to pieces with the alcohol soaked into the floorboards, which were punched with holes. A decorative couch the two would sit on was now sitting nicely through the window for everyone to see. The only things not to get torn up was the one chair he was sitting in—although, that may get destroyed later—and all the food in the house.
Wendrake had his face buried into his tear-soaked hands. His doublet was thrown to the ground while his shirt was stretched and wrinkled. His mane was disheveled from lack of care. He barely moved from that spot. He couldn't sleep…he wasn't able to. Born with the ability, Insomnia, he wasn't able to drift off to slumber like most. Most days, it was a natural part of his life. Days like these, it was a curse, suffering through his own pain.
The constable wasn't able to track the location of the bandits responsible for Senara's murder. Even if they were thrown in jail, Wendrake would forever be left unsatisfied. They'll eventually escape and harm some other poor soul. He'll never be at rest if they continue to live.
Wendrake removed his hands from his eyes and turned to the lone bottle of whiskey sitting on the table. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the flask given to him by Senara. Droplets dripped onto the engraving. The flask shook in his hand before he shot up and marched to the bottle.
He ripped the cork off and messily poured the drink into his flask. Once it reached the top, he slammed the bottle down and guzzled down the whole content of his flask as his reddened eyes let out more tears. He couldn't make the pain go away. This was all he had left.
Once he finished the flask, he stuffed it back into his pocket and downed the rest of the bottle in one chug. He threw the now empty bottle across the room, smashing into a wall, and slammed his hands down on the table, violently shaking with sadness and fury.
"Th-Th-They'll pay…they'll…PAY…" He gripped the sides of the table, straining his fingers. His nails dug into the underside, carving out wood shavings. "My poor Senara…my…darling…Senara…" He fell face first onto the table and cried. "Why…Why…Why…"
For the moment, all heard within the dwelling were his soft cries. Nothing but him and his misery. He didn't know why, but he felt especially bitter about everything. Last few days, it never got this bad. He felt…angrier than before. Like he wanted to…murder the people who did this to his fiancé.
"The rage in your heart…I've been looking for someone…with such passion and fury…"
Wendrake immediately spun around to the voice, but to nothing. He glared and quickly reached an iron poker from his fireplace. "Who's there?!" He swung the poker angrily. "Leave me be! NOW!"
It was then that he noticed something off about his house. A black fog rolled in from under him. It was pitch black, completely obscuring everything below his ankles. He thought it was smoke, but something felt…familiar about it.
"I sensed your presence back in that town." Wendrake's eyes widened. The voice was coming from right behind him. He dared not move. "You touched the flames of my handiwork. I figured…following you would lead me somewhere…to find the last mortal to become by herald…"
Fear ramped up inside of Wendrake. He gulped inaudibly, then asked, "Who…are you?"
"I am but a forgotten legend brought to life. The name I bear has been lost to the world, for I am nothing but myth." Wendrake tensed as a claw traced up his spine. "But you may refer to me…as the Shadow King."
"Sh…Shadow…King?" he breathed uneasily.
"You have dealt with a great loss…that pain…a pain that can never be satisfied…what aches you, mortal?"
Wendrake knew something was off about this guy, but his mind was far too scattered and anxious to hear the obvious alarms. "…My fiancé…she was killed in a random raid…by bandits…" A tear slid down his face. "We were supposed to be wedded by now…we were supposed to be happy…I wanted nothing more than to be with her…" He felt his anger outweighing his fear. "Why is the world filled…with such sin?"
"Do not lose sight of that grudge…" Wendrake felt a single claw wrap around his neck, running it smoothing across his throat. "That grudge…that anger…it is your one and only ally…it is power. When a grudge is so strong that it can exist without a soul…it can persist beyond a mere mortal…no one can deny you…you are power itself…"
"…What are you talking about? What do you want with me?"
"I can ease your burden, for a price. I can give you power…the power to act on your grudge…to get revenge on the ones who wronged you." The claw retreated from his neck. "Violence, anger, power…the blood of your hated enemy spread across the land…you can have it all…you are not alone. There are others who felt wronged like you…those with grudges that need to be tempered…those who I sought out and gave the power to take what they were owed…that same power can be yours…"
Wendrake's jaw trembled. It sounded too good to be true. Power? All his? To get what he was deserved? "Why…Why should I trust you?"
"I am the living embodiment of unrest and evil…I sense great potential in you. When you fall into the darkness…you'll never feel pain ever again…you'll never feel sadness…anger…hopelessness…you will be liberated from the confines of your soul…" He felt the figure's cold breath hit his ear. "All you need to do…is pledge your allegiance to me…and my power…will become yours."
The black fog gravitated towards Wendrake. All fear in his body felt cold and numb. The trembling in his body ceased. A dark haze casted over his eyes. The tiniest fraction of his mind that was screaming to run away was drowned out by the figure's dark whispers.
"…I want to kill the ones who have wronged me…" Wendrake clenched his fist. "…Give me your power…my king…"
A hand wrapped around his left arm. "Excellent." An ominous light shined from under the hand. "You will be my herald…that will lead my army to greatness. My Herald of Darkness."
Light burst from his hand, enveloping the whole household in a darkened purple flash.
"I'm telling you, boys! We were plumb out of luck in that last hit!" a Bisharp complained as he and his gang of four camped out deep in the woods. "That lady didn't have any valuables."
The Exploud of their group then said, "They probably found the bodies by now. We'll be hunted and turned in."
Houndoom scoffed. "Please. No one saw us. Besides, we're miles away from that old town." He waved his paw around in a conceited manner. "Obviously we have nothing to worry about. Let them hunt us down. They'll find nothing."
Gardevoir bit into the meat she was having, chewing slowly. "I wouldn't say it was a total bust. We did swipe the lady's ring off her finger."
Bisharp pulled it out and examined it. "You're not wrong." He turned it over a couple of times, then smirked. "Bet we can get a hundred bits off this thing."
Houndoom laughed. "That'll cover a ton of our meals!" He rubbed his paws together. "Course, we can make use of all the chaos going around. I heard there was a town that got wasted recently." He smirked villainously. "There's bound to be some loot to swipe."
They laughed out into the sky, unaware of the pair of red eyes spying down on them. They narrowed steadily, then a shadow bounced around in the trees, disturbing the leaves. One of which fell atop of Exploud's head pipe.
He blew it off and caught it between his fingers. Curious, he looked up. "Guys…did you feel any wind a moment ago?"
"No," Gardevoir answered, half-listening as she focused on her dinner.
He stood up and looked around at the trees. "Could've sworn I heard some-" His eyes widened as something tightened around his ankle. He barely had time to see the strange purple thread bound around it. "Guys-!" The mysterious string dragged him into the trees near instantly.
"The hell?!" Bisharp shouted as they jumped up, now fully alert.
They covered their ears as a loud Boomburst blasted through the trees, taking out all the leaves from their branches. They smirked knowingly that anyone in direct earshot of that was going to be messed up. However, to their confusion, the Boomburst was abruptly cut, leaving but an awkward echo.
They looked to each other, neither having an idea of what happened. Houndoom bared his teeth and stepped forward. "Hey! Are you still up-?!"
Something dropped from the trees and they all let loose bloodcurdling screams. It was the Exploud, with his entire body completely lacerated. His eyes were red with blood. His tails were slashed clean off. Gardevoir couldn't feel a sign of life. He was brutally murdered, and they didn't even hear it.
"W-What was that?!" Bisharp screamed.
"The first of your payment." They looked upwards and saw the shadowed Pokémon leaning against a tree with his hand. His piercing red eyes stared straight through their skins and into their souls. "A debt has been made in your names." His eyes flashed sinisterly. "I'm here to get what you owe."
They back away slowly, trying to mask the fear in their faces. Bisharp, being the bolder of his crew, pointed furiously at the Hypno. "Bastard! Who do you think you are?! Coming all the way out here just to scare us?! HA!"
Wendrake narrowed his eyes lower. "Will that be your last words?" He raised his hand.
Their eyes caught the light shimmering around him. It almost looked like there was string floating around him. They couldn't explain it. They were positive he didn't have any string attached to his fingers a moment ago. Where did they come from? Was that how he killed Exploud so quickly?
Bisharp clanged his blades together and extended them out through Metal Claw. "We're going to do what you did to our pal and double it!"
Wendrake held his hand out in their direction. "Pathetic little mortals should learn their place. You're nothing more than puppets on a string for me to command."
Bisharp and Houndoom noticed Gardevoir grunting behind them. They looked over their shoulder and gasped as the psychic convulsed in unorthodox manners. Her arms were twisted, her head was tilted at such an angle that it looked nearly upside-down, and blood was dripping out from her lip.
"Wha…? When did…he…?" she tried to say, but her throat felt like something was constricting around it.
Wendrake flexed his fingers, controlling the string that shimmered off them. "That's a good girl. Why don't you get closer to your mutt friend over there? I'm sure he's begging for it."
The hound's face paled as the Embrace Pokémon stiffly pulled out a dagger from behind her waist. She hovered towards him, swinging the blade with a dead look in her eyes, moaning like a zombie almost. The string wrapping inside her had reached her brain and was cutting off oxygen. She couldn't think straight.
"Heeey…s-stop…moving…" she mumbled drunkenly. "Y-You have s-sosmehtung right theeee…r…"
Houndoom was petrified with terror, tripping over his foot and following onto his rear. "S-Stay back! Don't come any closer!" He held his paws up pleadingly. "You bitch! I said get away from-!"
The knife jammed down into his muzzle. He screamed on the inside, unable to open his jaw. Gardevoir unveiled a second knife and thrusted it through his throat. Blood dripped from the room as he collapsed onto his side, eyes slowly fading of life.
Bisharp breathed out in distress as the Embrace Pokémon faced him with that same dead look. Wendrake dropped from the air and walked up behind her, grabbing her by the head. "Your services are no longer required."
SNAP!
Bisharp's jaw quivered as the psychic dropped to the ground, with the string retreating from her. Wendrake set his gaze onto his as he approached the cowering bandit, who was cornered into a tree.
"L-Look, man! Whatever I did to you, I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I'll do anything, anything at all!" He clasped his hands together. "I-I-I'm just a weak, pathetic mortal, like you said! Y-Yeah! That's it! I'll be your slave! Your servant! Just please spare-!"
He slammed his elbow into the Bisharp's windpipe. The bandit gasped a breathless cry. Wendrake sneered in disgust. "I've met Dunsparce with more backbone than you, you spineless whelp." He grabbed the bandit's face and shoved it against the tree. "Ask for forgiveness from all the people you murdered. All who were a part of your twisted gain for wealth.
"Most of all, ask for forgiveness from the Mienshao you murdered…Senara Peckham." The Bisharp's eyes widened with fear. "But as for me…forgiving you never crossed my mind." He threw the bandit to the ground and stuff one hand in his pocket.
Bisharp got on his knees as he found his voice returning. "I…I have money…loads! I know people! They can set you up! You'll be set for life!" He raised his fists as the begging tears streamed down his face. "It's all yours! Just say the word and it's all yours!"
Wendrake bared his teeth. "Begging for your life like a coward and expecting to pay me off with your bribe?" His eyes shadowed over. "You sad, pathetic fool…don't you get it by now?
"What you owe me…can only be paid in your BLOOD!"
Bisharp arched his back in agony as thick, serrated blades of condensed string grinded into his body. They trapped him in a tornado of razors, lacerating his metal skin and spraying blood across the ground. He couldn't manage the quietest scream, for the razor wire had dealt fatal damage that prevented him from uttering a peep.
Wendrake turned his back to the bandit, not minding the blood droplets spraying on his back. A piece of the Bisharp's metal blade flew at his cheek, but he caught it between his finger. His eyes narrowed into a steely glare as the fragment melted away from the dark flames lit from his fingers.
The razor wire finished their job, dropping the bandit onto the ground. He was barely conscious, but rapidly losing a grip on life. His bloodied face lifted through pure will alone, just to look up at his killer with eyes buried in fear. The man that stood above him wasn't a man at all.
It was a monster.
Wendrake spread his arms out and looked to the sky. "There. Now you can go to Hell with a clean debt."
Bisharp choked on the words buried under pints of blood. He tried to pushed himself up, but his bone cracked and gave out under the stress. He lay face first on the ground, eyes shaking with terror until the light vanished from within them, now motionless.
Wendrake closed his eyes and walked away from the sight, shoving his hands into his pockets. Dark whispers echoed in his mind, called upon by his king. "Excellent work, my herald. I can feel the darkness consuming your former being. Your life as a mortal is no more. No more fear, no more anger, no more sorrow."
Wendrake gazed up into nothingness, then took a knee. "What are you orders…my Shadow King?"
"Hahaha…from this day forth…you will be branded as the fear deep from within the unknown…my Assassin of Darkness."
"…Yes, my king." Wendrake's eyes glowed blood red.
All traces of his good name…were buried into the abyss.
"After that…I felt like I was wandering through a black fog. No destination. No goals. I just felt lost. Like something I treasured was taken away, but I couldn't remember. All I knew was I had to serve my king."
The war commenced on the world, with armies of Pokémon charging into battle with their swords, knives, and the firepower of their moves. Standing above them all, on the highest point, was the Four Heralds, accompanied by a massive army of shadows, cackling with anticipation.
Puck floated over their heads, surveying the attack. "A straight shot for our forces. Seems rather generic." He glared from his left to his right. "They're planning a pincer maneuver from the sides and the sky. They plan to lock us in and fire everything they've got." He raised his fingers and snapped them. "Shadows…commence Operation: Black Mist."
The shadows swirled around their commanders and expanded outward into a wide hurricane of darkness. Their forms became gaseous as they overtook the surrounding area in a matter of seconds. The heralds jumped from the mountain and engaged the enemy.
"There was no one stronger than us. They had their armies and their strategies. They had their determination and their victories. We had all of that, as well as overwhelming power. They were nothing but puny mortals to us. Weaklings and obstacles for us, Pokémon who abandoned their mortality."
As expected, the battle ended in favor of the Tribe of Shadows, with the opposing forces dead on the battlefield. By Puck's command, the shadows advanced towards the evacuating town to kill off more of the Pokémon and claim more land in their name.
"For a time, I completely forgot who I was. Back then, there was only darkness. It called out to me. It felt like something I had long forgotten. I needed it in my life to quell the misery I endured. It was so cold, yet so alluring. It made my misery feel insignificant. It made me better. Living inside the dread of all things granted me the power I never knew I wanted and the strength to abandon my mortal coils."
The heralds planted down their flag for the Tribe of Shadows, baring their symbol, as shadows stretched out and consumed the land in darkness. Wendrake crossed his arms and glared down at the futile resistance stacking against them. He felt nothing for them. This was the future for all. He was the one who shall help lead the Shadow King to his ultimate goal.
"This went on for years. I was too deep into my darkness, even though a small part of me still had some memory of Senara and my old self. I hid my face in shame, behind a mask so that I'd never face the monster I became. It was too deep into the abyss."
"Then…how did you pulled yourself out?"
"Strange things happen in war. We never thought someone could match us in power. We were supposed to be the invincible titans. I never imagined the Pokémon armies could…actually fight us back."
Wendrake polished his mask of dirt and grime, hiding his face under his hood. His glowing red eyes peeked through the shade. Upon finishing, he heard a sharp knock on his chamber room door. "What is it?" he asked, placing his mask back on.
"Get your ass out here, now!" It was Puck. He sounded furious. That's…not normal. "We got a problem!"
No sooner than he was demanded, Wendrake raced out of the castle and was transported along the air by floating rocks, courtesy of Puck. They, plus Callista and Voss, soared for a long while, possibly an hour, when they came across the scene of a battle.
Wendrake knew what this was. They got word of a weakened resistance trying to push back some of their shadows, so they sent a second wave to take care of it. There was no need for their involvement.
…They were sorely mistaken.
"What the hell?!" Wendrake shouted at the ruined wastes of the battle. Barely any corpses from the Pokémon lay on the battlefield. What remained most noticed was the black mist evaporating into the air. It was the defeated sign of groups of shadows.
"All the shadows were killed?!" Callista growled. "How is this possible?!"
Voss glared at Puck. "You said this was a weakened resistance. You're never wrong about these things."
"Yeah, I was pretty confident we had them dead!" Puck shouted, clearly pissed off about the whole ordeal. "However, I didn't account for one particular little factor!"
"And that is-?" Wendrake asked dryly before being abruptly interrupted.
"THEY HAVE MAGIC!"
The answer caught them completely off guard. "Magic?!"
"They have magic?!" Callista repeated. "That's impossible! How can so many Pokémon learn magic like that! Magic is extremely rare in this land! Only a select few groups have any knowledge on the practice!"
"Well apparently there was a book club meeting we weren't invited to, because they have all the knowledge they need!" Puck yelled. "I saw it all through the eyes of a shadow! Fireballs that can burn through darkness! Energy conjured from nothing! Transmutation of the land! That's not stuff Pokémon can do! That wasn't their natural energy!"
Wendrake glared to the side. "We know some Pokémon were born with the potential, but it can only be unlocked by the will of a skilled magician." He clenched his fist. "Does that mean they have some sort of teacher giving them advice on what they need to win?"
Voss glared around the scene. "The Shadow King will not like this. This is the first actual battle our army lost. We've never had anything like this happen."
"That's not all," Puck brought up with a finger raised. "Before the shadow I peered through was slain, I caught sight of one figure charging through the battlefield. I believe he was a Meowstic." He glared. Actually, more than just glared. He was gritting his teeth and huffing with tension.
"Puck," Callista slowly called out. "What happened?"
"…He wiped out a thousand shadows on his own."
Dead silence rang between the heralds. They've seen cases where one or two shadows—ten, tops—were slain in battle before the soldier was killed. No one got that close to being a real threat. The shadows were overwhelming numbers. Even so…one thousand shadows? And this was just what Puck saw before his vision was cut.
"This warrior…did all of that…without breaking a sweat?" Callista asked in disbelief.
Puck was reluctant to nod. "He's gifted with the sword. He's far too dangerous to live."
Voss crossed his arms. "Perhaps he's a worthy challenge for me."
"Not happening," Puck pressed firmly. "This is the first time someone has actually been a legitimate threat to the shadow army. We're not brushing this under the rug as some challenge for you to play with." He pointed at the battlefield. "If one guy can do all of this, what's that say about the rest of them? They have magic now! They'll be able to do things they weren't able to before! They'd actually be able to take lethal shots like their rubber balls to the forehead!"
Wendrake glared down at the field. "Their will to live is stronger than we thought…" His fist uncurled and his gaze softened under the mask. "What is the power that this warrior possesses?"
Puck groaned. "We can't argue about this forever. They're long gone. We need to inform the Shadow King immediately. This can't be ignored."
There was no disagreement over the notion. Puck turned the floating rocks around and aimed them back to the castle. Wendrake looked back at the battlefield as it shrunk into the distance. Suddenly, he felt his left arm convulsed with an unknown pain.
"GAH!" He gripped his arm and seethed through his teeth.
Callista looked at him oddly. "What's with you?"
He clenched his teeth until the pain subsided. He looked at her wearily, thankfully obscured behind the mask. "Nothing…just my imagination." He knew Callista wouldn't by that excuse, but the prior situation outweighed her curiosity, as he expected.
Still…what happened with his arm? It felt like the darkness was…trying to reinforce itself for a moment. Wendrake gripped his arm tighter and faced ahead, while also trying to ignore the feeble voice deep down in the abyss.
"I didn't imagine there'd be a point where we had anything to worry about. I didn't think I'd ever crawl out of the abyss. I needed something to remind me. We were reaching the final days of that war…we knew one side had to declare victory. In those final moments, everything came back to me…"
Wendrake flipped around through the air, dodging magic slash projectiles from the warriors he faced. They were donned in lightweight, yet highly resilient armor. Wendrake used his string and reflected the slashes back at them, but their armor canceled the returned attacks.
The Hypno growled under his mask and rushed them on foot. "Engage! Flames of the Deep!" His string ignited in the black flames as he cut down one of the warriors.
The other swung and got a clean hit on Wendrake's chest. Blood spurted out, but quickly sealed shut with his darkness. Wendrake slammed his elbow into the solider, bound his neck in string, and flung him across the sky.
"Wendrake!" The assassin looked up and saw his witch ally, standing atop a giant, demon raven. "Forget about the mortal filth! The Shadow King needs help!"
"Help?" That wasn't something associated with their ruler. "What do you mean 'help?'"
"Just shut up and follow me!" She took off flying. Wendrake quickly snatched to the bird's ankle and was lifted into the air.
He could see Voss and Puck pursuing through the crowd of soldiers. Their shadows were dying faster than they could multiply. In the five years this sudden shift in power took, they were now on the losing side.
"Over there!" Wendrake faced a hill they were approaching and saw the Shadow King being pushed into a circle by five robed figures. From the looks of it, he had the upper hand in power, as he was easily deflecting their magic. However, that wasn't the issue. It wasn't that he was losing.
He was being forced into a trap.
"This is bad!" Wendrake turned and saw Nightmare floating up to their side, gritting his spectral teeth. "I sense an unusual amount of magic building inside those mages. They're powerful…I doubt they can kill the king, but…"
"Yeah, I know!" Callista shouted. "We need to attack!"
"Callista! Dive!" Wendrake ordered. "Voss! Puck!" The two heralds looked up. "Charge! As fast as you can!" He swung from the bird's ankle and dived straight for the battle.
All four heralds and the shadow general converged on the battle between their king and the five mages, charging their magic at maximum power. As Wendrake had the head start, he was closing in much faster. He set his strings ablaze in darkness and got ready to make the strike.
His eyes widened as the mages raised their staffs, channeling magic unparallel to anything they've seen from these opposing forces. It was a magic far greater than anything he witnessed. He could feel his skin burning from under his clothes. It was a light magic so potent, it could harm those merely infused with the darkness.
He found it difficult to contain the darkness in his strings. 'What…is this…?!'
In the time he could still see the Shadow King, he tried to make one last move with a powerful spell of his own. However, in the blink of an eye, a warrior raced through the opposing forces and into the center of the five-way spell. He saw it in a flash. The Meowstic warrior that has plagued their forces from the very beginning of this turn.
With a swing of his sword, the Shadow King's arm was hacked off. It flew across the air, with the darkness burning out of it. For a second between the exchange, the Shadow King was filled with a shock and anger never before seen in his eyes. The warrior had whispered something to him, but Wendrake didn't know what.
That's when the light became complete. A pillar of light shot up from the ground, piercing into the heavens, breaking apart the clouds and sky itself. Wendrake crashed into the surface of the light and experienced a blinding pain unlike any other, as if his whole body, covered in fresh burn scars, was dipped in a tub of acid. The pain was unlike anything else. This was pain he hadn't felt in years!
"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Wendrake screamed at the top of his lungs. Like two north pole magnets, he was repelled off the pillar and flew across the sky.
He was rapidly losing consciousness and could barely make out the other events going on through his blurred vision. He saw black splotches flying across the sky towards the pillar of light and the screams of the shadows. He couldn't move a single muscle. He couldn't feel anything but the sensation of falling back to earth.
Worse of all, that mark he was branded with ever since he met the Shadow King…while he couldn't feel it physically, he felt its power emanating through his body, only differently. Like a ripple caused by flailing in the water. It was distorted and out of sync. The darkness in his mind was fizzling out of sync.
His red eyes flashed in and out, where they widened in horror. A pathway was made through the abyss. He could see something past it. He could see what was outside the abyss.
'…No…'
"In that moment…for the first time in fifty years…I felt pain…and regret…"
Ten days since the end of the war. All the shadows and the Shadow King were sealed by a powerful banishing spell, to never again be unleashed upon the world. The heralds were left to retreat back in the castle until an army came to tear it down. They were plotting for their next move.
"How could this have happened?" Puck asked aloud, leaning against a stone window. "We had everything planned to the top. Nothing was out of place. Then that day came along and suddenly they have access to magic."
Voss huffed. "We've waged war for forty-five years…and they tear us down in the last five…"
Callista hung upside-down from the ceiling, crossing her front legs. "It's because we got cocky. The Shadow King has an unfortunate habit of playing with his food, but we let that get to us, too." She closed her eyes. "Because they only knew the things from experience, they managed to make spells to adapt to anything we and the shadows could throw."
Puck snarled. "Brilliant to them. I thought I made sure all spies trying to get intel on us were killed. Seemed we missed some." He glared. "It's that magic community we never bothered hunting down…though, we never expected them to join in on the war."
Voss gripped his sword. "Then what is our plan?"
"Simple. We will not retreat like cowards." Puck turned and slammed his fist down into his palm. "They've never defeated us in combat. The four of us will execute all but those mages who had the audacity to seal away our glorious leader."
Callista looked around for a moment, then glared in realization. "Where the hell is Wendrake?"
The assassin in question happened to be in the main foyer of the castle, staring off into space. Arms crossed, he tapped his finger lightly against his arm, lost in deep thought. His face was mostly obscured by the shading of his hood.
"Wendrake!" He didn't turn, but he acknowledged the approach of his comrades with a subtle nod. Puck floated down, with Callista and Voss jumping from the staircase, and pointed irritably at the assassin. "What the hell are you doing here? We need to plan for the invasion on the king's castle!"
"…Why?"
Puck was utterly flabbergasted. "Why?! WHY?!" He balled his hand. "In case you've forgotten, our master was taken by those lowly mortals! I can't believe it myself, but we need to free him from his imprisonment! This castle must remain standing until his return."
"…" The three heralds straightened up as the assassin pulled out his metal mask, rarely see with it off. "…No…No, I don't think I'll be joining you." He dropped the mask, with the metal echoing across the near empty hall.
"What do you mean 'no?'" Callista asked firmly. "Our king is too mighty and proud to be captured."
"Once we free him, we can plan accordingly for the magic users," Puck added. "I won't allow our king to be mistreated like some common prisoner!"
"What exactly is common about being sealed?" Callista asked rhetorically.
"You get my point!"
Voss stared hard at the back of Wendrake's head, then formed a glare. "I…don't think he's asking just because."
"Huh?" Puck glared at Voss for a moment, then shifted his gaze onto Wendrake, now growing suspicious. "…You've been acting a little differently lately, Wendrake. What exactly have you been up to in your moments of solitude?"
"…Resisting." He turned around and faced them.
His fellow…or rather, former comrades glared at him to see the new look in his eyes. They were bloodshot, not from lack of sleep, but from mental exhaustion. They weren't glowing red like always. His gaze was even softer than they remembered. He always hid behind a mask, but those eyes were ingrained into their minds long enough to picture it clearly. This wasn't a normal look they adjusted to.
Wendrake stared at them silently, then offered a lighthearted shrug. "You know…crashing into a sealing spell hurts a ton. Felt like I was dying." He shoved one hand in his pocket. "Still…I think it did me some good. It was brief, but I found a way through the darkness."
His glare turned irritable. "I spent ten days trying to crawl out of that chasm of evil I let myself get consumed in. With that moment of clarity, I began to see the things I've done in a new light…or rather, a light. I haven't seen the light in fifty years. Do you know how close I was to tearing out my own skin from the insanity of fighting back against this accursed mark?!"
They could see the energy pulsating from his arm. He gripped it, clenching down on his teeth. "E-Even now…I can still feel it trying to wrap itself around me…I barely…have any sense left in me…I could go back at any second if I slip up for…j-just a second…" He panted heavily as his eyes flickered between black and red. "I can't hold it like this forever…"
"Then don't," Voss advised. "You were given a gift by the Shadow King and you intend to suppress it? We were given these gifts to surpass mortal limitations."
"We are above sympathy," Puck added. "Who cares what anyone else thinks? I could crush them with just my pinky and I'll never shed a tear." He rubbed his index finger and thumb together. "Quit acting foolish, Wendrake. You can't fight it forever. You'll revert back to your old ways and see just how much better it is."
Wendrake bared his teeth at them, almost defensively. "I didn't ask for this power…the Shadow King…took advantage…of ME…!" He gripped his face as the anger swelled inside. "Tempted me…in a moment…of weakness!"
"A weakness that became your greatest strength," Callista reminded. "You're just like us. We, too, felt lost until the Shadow King blessed us with his power."
Wendrake regained some self-control to smirk at them. "Y-Yeah…keep…telling yourselves that!" His mouth curved down into a snarl. "G-Give me a break…like you three were corrupted by its power like me…I know plenty about all of you to know this power was readily accepted without added temptation!
"Killing your father just to have a laugh…" Puck glared.
"Abandoned by your coven because you meddled with the demons…" Callista hissed.
"And how can we forget the brute…who just wants someone to kill him…so his stubborn pride and ethics can be laid to rest?" Voss crossed his arms.
"Meanwhile, I lost my fiancé all because of some bandits and I was corrupted into murdering them myself!" Wendrake bared his teeth tightly, holding back the tears forming in his eyes. "I remember everything I did! I remember it all! I have innocent blood on my hands! Blood that'll never wash away! And I did it all…without batting an eye! I slaughter soldiers fighting to protect their families! If things went differently…I would've been one of those soldiers! I could've been fighting for Senara! Maybe my own child!
"You shadows…it wasn't the bandits that ruined my life! It was you!" Wendrake screamed at their unfazed faces. "Your leader turned me into a murderer and corrupted me to accept it! You…MONSTERS!"
The assassin panted heavily after his rant, leaving the heralds completely unmoved. Actually, no, they were moved in a way…as in going into a more offensive state of mind. "Seems we have a traitor in our midst," Puck announced, channeling particle magic from his hands.
Voss drew his sword and partially formed his armor around his arm. "You're making a mistake, Wendrake."
Callista hissed as her shadow emerged from her back. "Then again…I could use a Hypno for a ritual."
They approached the broken Hypno as he held his face. He peered through his hand, glaring softly. "Do you honestly think…you can take me?"
Puck scowled for a moment before smirking conceitedly. "As it stands, you're definitely the most skilled out of all of us." His eyes narrowed deeply. "Doesn't matter, though. Against all three of us, you're just another mortal." He held his hand out, charging it with his signature spell, and reached out from the Hypno's face. "Now bow to your gods."
"…Heh. Like I was going down without some countermeasure."
Puck's eyes widened as he hit something. He barely had time to analyze it as a flurry of needle shaped projectiles fired out from around Wendrake. He jumped back and avoided them, but ran into a similar barrier from behind, also firing needles. Callista and Voss jumped out of the way, blocking the projectiles swiftly.
Any movement they made to avoid met with them hitting the nearly invisible barrier surrounding them and firing off more needles. Every twitch and movement felt like it caused a reaction. Wendrake lightened up a bit and even managed to straighten up.
Eventually, the heralds found themselves huddled together in the middle of the foyer. With a moment to process, they glared and saw they were surrounded by thin string, wrapped all over the foyer like webs. Wendrake was an expert at hiding these little traps without giving away their location through magic.
"I trapped the entire foyer in string. If they feel the slightest disturbance, they'll fire tightly coiled string needles at you," Wendrake explained. He glared at them. "Because of your king…I can never go back to my old job. My old life." He balled his hand. "But that doesn't mean I'll leave without giving you creeps a warning…and a proper farewell."
"The hell are you on about?" Puck growled.
Wendrake raised his hand and tightened on the string in the foyer. "They know you're still alive. If they find a body, there's relief. If not, they'll hunt you down for the rest of your lives until you're forced to fade into obscurity." His glared darkened. "If I ever catch you three causing trouble ever again…you'll be hearing from me."
"Is that really a threat?" Callista dismissed.
"Maybe not…but at least it gives you time to think." He clenched his fingers. "Oh…and don't worry about the castle." The heralds perked up at a quiet moaning over their heads, like the stressful pressure of…stone. "The invaders won't be here in time to tear it down themselves."
The heralds looked above and felt dust raining from the ceiling. To their eyes' shock, the string was binding around the support pillars and beams of the foyer, slowly constricting it until it would inevitably break. The string was wrapped everywhere. The extent of the assassin's abilities was to be admired, but they never expected such a move from him.
They glared at the traitor as he backed into the castle doors. Pressing his hand against the door, he looked back to them with a serious glare. "I won't forget this…and neither should you." He pushed the door open, then raised a hand with a cluster of string wrapped around it. "Now go to Hell." He swiped his hand downward.
The string tightened and sliced through the support beams and pillars. The simultaneous vibrations emanated through the entire foyer, loosening apart the sever parts and collapsing down over each other. The weight of the castle groaned under the lack of support and slowly caved in.
The heralds didn't move or shout. They faced their treacherous ally with glares filled with their own warnings. Wendrake read them loud and clear as he took his leave. Much like how he will be watching over them, the reverse was also true. There was no turning back from his actions, but he didn't want to live like this anymore. He spent far too long in the darkness.
The castle crashed down on itself, burying the three heralds inside. Wendrake felt the dust brush up on his legs as he headed forth to who-knows-where. He clutched his aching arm as he marched ahead, never to be seen as Wendrake Vanderhart ever again.
Morgan leaned back and took a sip from the whiskey bottle. After wiping his lip, he set the bottle down and finished the last of his tale. "After that, I spent a few years trying to keep my senses about me. Ten years after that were spent trying to be normal around other people without losing my cool. The rest was spent hiding from everyone. Took a job as a librarian, worked for a newspaper, a shop keeper, then started falling down the line of bounty hunter for the rest of my years.
"I got my title as Phantom Weaver after making my mark to Mysto. Criminals and bandits alike knew there was no escape once I was on their tail." He sighed. "What a way for an immortal man to spend his days…hunting others down like I used to." He held his face in shame. "Then I met you guys and…the rest is history."
Ava had been silent for most of the story, save for one or two interjections. While it didn't alleviate her overall feelings on the matter, it did help garner a new perspective on the Hypno. His history was anything but a sob story or a spurious tale to win her trust over. He gave her the answers she wanted and she could appreciate that.
She took a deep breath, then swiped the whiskey bottle to have a drink herself. After settling it down, she said, "Morgan…I can see now you've been through a lot. For that, I'm sorry for everything you've had to go through." She glared. "This doesn't change the fact you're an immortal war criminal. Regardless of your corruption-" Morgan raised his hand to stop her.
"Don't say it. I know." He sighed and rested his arms in his lap. "Despite what I went through, the darkness didn't force my decision. It tempted me. I was so hurt and blinded by vengeance that I wanted something to make me feel better. After getting a taste of that power, I couldn't stop it from feeding into me…or rather, I didn't want to stop it. That's why I spent the last five hundred years trying to make up for everything I've done.
"I've given to charity. I've met with priests to help me confess and atone for my sins. I've tried being an overall nice person, even though I couldn't bring myself to get too close to anyone." He scratched his arm. "Now things are different. The last time I felt something like this come over me was three hundred and six years ago."
"What happened?"
"Some guy bumped into me and knocked some papers out of my hands. I brushed it off, but he was kind of a jerk. To spare you the details, I blacked out for a second and found him on the ground with a twisted arm." He twirled his finger. "After that, the man known as Valentine Terras mysteriously went into hiding and never returned."
Ava scratched her cheek. "Could be something I heard from a book of missing people in history."
"No doubt I'm in a few entries." He sighed. "…Ava, I know you'll have a difficult time trusting me again. I wouldn't blame you." He turned away. "But please understand, I want the Shadow King dead as much as you do. I just couldn't face him last time because…I feared getting too close will throw me back into the darkness. I don't know what I would've done if that happened. Would I turn back into the old me…or something else?" He held his head. "I was afraid to do anything…"
Ava closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. "…Morgan, I won't deny it'll take me sometime to regain my trust in you. However…I know you're not a bad person anymore." She opened her eyes and looked to him softly. "Just please…promise me, no more secrets like this."
"I promise…" He took a deep breath and shuddered worriedly. "…How am I going to explain this to Angel and Cheri?" He grimaced. "How am I going to explain this to Team Ravenfield? To Tony?" Possibly the one he was worried explaining to the most.
"You can't keep this hidden from them," Ava said. "If they have to wait for you to tell them, they might not be as obliged to trust you as I am. They've dealt with the heralds already."
"…I consider once we see them."
Ava nodded, then picked up his empty tray. "Do you wish to stay here longer?"
"…I need the time to think."
"Very well." She headed for the door, but stopped for a moment. "Hmm…funny, I just realized something. The two women that you loved have names that rhyme."
"Eh?"
Ava chuckled. "Perhaps you fell for Clara because her personality and even name reminds you of Senara."
Morgan blinked, then held his face with a groan. "Please leave, Ava. I've got enough of a headache."
She rolled her eyes and chuckled again. She opened the door and stepped out. She lingered for a moment on the door, looking serious at the floor. "…Have faith in the people who trust you now. Even if they don't trust you once your secret is out, make an effort to prove you're on their side. Even if it means having to fight the Shadow King on your own." She shut the door behind her.
Morgan looked down at the floor, bringing his legs up to his chest. "Fight him on my own…" His eyes narrowed tiredly. "…I want to kill the Shadow King…but what if there's still a chance to save Alex?" He closed his eyes. "Then again…what if he gets to the Idol of Origin first? Then everyone will lose."
He went silent after that, face scrunched in sudden thought. One eye opened and turned to the empty whiskey bottle beside him. He stared at it deeply, then glared.
'I won't let him become a god.'
He took the bottle and smashed the bottom. He then took hold of a glass shard and held it up to eye level, almost like he was studying it.
'I gave up on this idea because I foolishly believed I could live in peace. I didn't spend those five hundred years without anticipating the worse. My chances of besting the Shadow King are slim…but I have studied the makings of magic during those centuries of solitude. You may not know it, but I found your ultimate weakness, Shadow King.'