Persona M

by GalacticAttorney

In the medieval ages, the kingdom of Brilan exists under an oppressive caste system. Wymare Thiebaut, a quiet young man with nothing to his name, struggles to live as a member of the Scadarah, the lowest caste. It is on this path that he encounters unexpected allies and discovers an inner strength capable of reversing the world's disastrous fate: the power of Persona.

10. Chapter 10: Window to the Past

Chapter X - Window to the Past

"I know this is our third time venturing into this place, but... I don't know, it all still seems a little surreal."

"What makes you say that?"

Standing in the fenced-in lawn that served as the landing for Shadow Clerebold's sprawling prison camp, Yselt gazed up at the towering complex with a thoughtful look, Wymare at her side brushing the remains of a Shadow off the head of his axe. A small welcoming party of enemies had attacked them upon entering the prison yard again, but the two had made short work of them now that they both possessed the power of Persona.

"I'm not sure," Yselt replied to Wymare's query, leisurely swinging her flail to and fro down by her feet. "It's just... to think that something like this could exist, with nobody else knowing about it except for us... I would still have trouble believing it if it wasn't laid out right before my own eyes."

"Well, the existence of your Persona should be proof enough that this realm is the real thing." With his axe cleaned, Wymare slung his weapon over his shoulder as he looked up at the prison camp with Yselt. "And thanks to Merliad, we know what we're looking for here as well."

"I still wonder why they were being subjected to Clerebold's anger last night," Yselt commented. "The only reason I can think of would be that they were discussing labor assignments located in the Mage's Guild wing, but I would think that a higher-up mage would handle those sorts of talks, not mere casters. And it doesn't explain the shouting, either..."

"Whatever the reason, if we can change Clerebold through his Shadow, they hopefully won't have anything to worry about anymore," Wymare said, looking to Yselt as he reaffirmed their reason for being in the prison camp. As he did so, he could not help but wince at the sight of the wound left on Yselt from her Persona awakening. A cone-shaped incision had been bored into the flesh of the back of her neck from the spikes of her flail, and wrapping around her neck was a long bruise left by the weapon's strangling chain. The cut in his leg seemed tame in comparison.

Yselt happened to notice that Wymare was staring at her, and she turned to return the look, asking, "What? Is something the matter?"

"Oh, n-no," Wymare answered hastily, shaking his head. "Only... your neck."

"Hmm? What about it?" Yselt felt around her neck with her free hand, not having noticed the garish injury due to its placement on her body. She realized what Wymare was referring to upon feeling the hole, gasping and exclaiming, "Oh! Bahamut help me, I had no idea... I suppose it's to be expected, though, since you have your leg to show for yours. And you were right; it doesn't hurt at all. How odd."

Wymare shrugged it off. "Nothing to worry about then, I suppose. Now... our next move should be clear: head inside the main building up there," he said, pointing his axe toward the prison camp's largest central building, "And see what we can find within. I doubt we'll simply stumble upon Clerebold's Shadow milling about in there, but getting a grasp for what the inside is like will be good knowledge for later."

"Yes, that sounds good," Yselt nodded, swinging her flail to psyche herself up for their first foray into the depths of the complex. Wymare allowed himself a smile at this, remembering the stammering, crying shrinking violet that she had been upon their first meeting. Her newfound confidence was on full display, and it inspired him to give his best effort in their excursion as well.

"Then let's get moving," Wymare said, beginning to march across the field toward the prison camp. "And be on the lookout for Shadows. We don't know where they'll come from in there, and it'll be advantageous for us to get the first strike on them whenever possible."

"Right! I'll follow your lead!" Yselt marched after Wymare, stretching her arms and legs to limber up before battle. As they approached the facility, the two Persona-users began to hear sounds coming from deeper inside. Low, agonized groaning, rattling chains, and hushed voices lingered in the air over the prison, casting a haunting aura over the atmosphere as Wymare opened the front door and stepped inside for the first time, Yselt close behind him.

The door opened to reveal a single hallway that stretched into darkness, candles hung from chains dimly lighting the ceiling, walls, and floor. The walls and ceiling were cobbled-together stone and brick that appeared stained from age, and the floor was comprised of several metal panels inlaid one after the other, causing every step taken on them to create a dull echo that resonated into the dark abyss.

"What... is this?" Yselt wondered aloud, craning her neck to look up and down at the eerie interior. "I had expected there to be a main hall of sorts... Is it further down the hall from here?"

"One way to find out," replied Wymare, beginning to cautiously walk down the hall. The noises they'd begun to hear when outside of the main building were still audible now that they were inside, filling the two with a sense of dread as they began their exploration in earnest.

As Wymare and Yselt made their way down the seemingly endless hallway, the sounds of their shoes thumping against the metal floor with every step they took echoed off the stone walls and down into the darkness of the yet-to-be-explored depths. The incessant, inescapable racket put both of them on edge, with their grips on the handles of their Persona weapons tightening a bit with every passing minute. Were it not for the quiet whispers of disembodied voices and the pained groans that were carried on the stagnant air, they would have felt isolated to an anxiety-inducing degree, but considering how uncanny the noises were, they almost found themselves wishing for that crippling loneliness compared to their current feeling of an ever-present gaze lingering on them from someplace just out of sight.

After what felt like an eternity of aimless proceeding, Wymare and Yselt came upon a rusty metal door with a small window near the top that was lined with bars. Most of the rust was concentrated around the handle, and Wymare regarded this with a thoughtful look.

"Hm... I wonder if we can even open this?" he asked. "The handle's so rusted over that it might not work anymore."

"T-Then just cut it down with your Persona, like the one that led to the yard!" Yselt proposed, a nervous stammer lingering in her voice. "T-Truthfully, I don't care how you do it, I j-just don't want to go back down that hall again..."

"I could do that, but what if there are Shadows on the other side? They'd be on us in an instant," Wymare countered, leaning down to take a closer look at the rusty door handle.

As he moved closer, Yselt took notice of a brief instant of movement through the barred window of the door, making her voice catch in her throat as her hands began to shake. With Wymare none the wiser as his attention was fixed on the handle, Yselt stared wide-eyed as two skinny, shadowy hands grasped the bars of the window, lifting an obscured figure's red eyes to meet hers through the door.

With the two Persona-users spotted through the gap in the door, the Shadow pushed its head through the bars and let out a ghastly screech. Yselt followed shortly after with a mortified scream of her own, and before Wymare could lift his head to realize what had happened, the whirling head of her flail smashed into the Shadow's exposed head. The force of her attack was multiplied by the adrenaline instilled in her by her terror, so much so that it crushed the Shadow's head against the door and knocked the door itself off its hinges with a high-pitched shriek of tearing metal.

Gobsmacked, Wymare shot to attention and looked back and forth between a trembling Yselt and the decimated Shadow crumbling beneath the door, which was so bent from the strike that it looked as though it had been shot with a cannonball. The two Persona-users shared bewildered looks before Wymare found the breath with which to speak.

"Yselt, that was... A-Are you alright?"

Yselt nodded and mumbled affirmatively. "S-Sorry... I t-think I'm just a bit on edge..."

"If that's what you'd call 'a bit' on edge, remind me to never sneak up on you," Wymare noted, attempting to lower the tension with a bit of humor. Yselt laughed a bit, but Wymare could tell that she was still spooked by the Shadow's jump scare. Seeing this, he continued, "Let's... let's just keep going. If I'm not wrong, it looked like this door led to..."

Wymare trailed off as he turned and stepped into the room beyond where the door had been moments earlier, beholding another hallway split by a fork in the road. This new area deviated from the long hallway they'd just gone through, however, in that both paths were much wider, lit by a more generous number of wall-mounted candles, and had the occasional wooden chair randomly scattered across the floor.

"...A split path," Wymare finished, looking between the two routes thoughtfully. Yselt's question from earlier had still gone unanswered, and now it was beginning to nag at him too. Why was the layout of the prison interior so strangely constructed? There were no signs indicating what awaited them down either path; in fact, there seemed to be no obvious indication at all of what set the two halls apart from one another.

"W-Which way do we go?" Yselt wondered, having followed Wymare through the opened doorframe. "Surely there would be some kind of lobby by now in any other prison..."

"It might be best for us to stop thinking of it in that manner. This is a place formed by peoples' thoughts, so it may not always be natural or easy to navigate. Some routes may not lead anywhere at all."

"You make a good point... but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Dryly amused at Yselt's blunt honesty, Wymare nodded in agreement. "There's no way to know for sure which one is correct, so for the time being... let's head right. We should be able to just double back if there's nothing down there. Sound good?"

Yselt didn't respond to Wymare's question, prompting him to look away from the right-leaning path and see what she was doing. He found her crouched down to the floor next to one of the wooden chairs, analyzing the toppled-over piece of furniture with a serious look on her face.

"Erm... Something wrong, Yselt?" Wymare asked, this time managing to snap her out of her concentration.

"Ah, no, s-sorry," Yselt answered, shaking her head as she stood up. "I don't quite know why... but I think I recognize these chairs from somewhere."

"You do? Curious," Wymare observed, turning his attention to the chair Yselt had been looking at for a more thorough examination. "Hmm... I don't see anything that would be strange about it. There look to be letters carved into the underside of the seat, though: 'CA'."

Yselt placed her hands at her hips as she scoured her brain for any association with the letters etched into the wood of the chair. After a few moments, she sighed in frustration and shook her head, declaring, "It's no good. It rings a bell, but I can't remember what it stands for offhand. If it's here and there are so many of them, it must have something to do with my brother..."

"Then let's keep going for now. I doubt these would be here without good reason, so I think it's safe to say we'll find out the meaning somewhere ahead."

"Alright. I'll keep trying to remember what those letters stand for." With that, Yselt shook herself off to clear her thoughts and walked toward the right-bearing hallway, stepping around and over the chairs on the floor as she went.

Wymare began to follow her, but he had not taken more than a few paces when the hairs on his arms and neck stood on end, prompting him to whirl around and look in every direction, somewhat frightened. He wasn't sure why, but at that moment he had been struck by the feeling that something was watching him. The sensation was far stronger than when they had been in the dimly-lit entry corridor, and yet there was no sign of life to be found anywhere around him. Despite the intensity of his gut feeling, Wymare shook it off, chalking it up to Yselt not being the only one between the two of them to have hair-trigger nerves.

With the subconscious warning set aside, he turned back around and swiftly caught up with Yselt, the two Persona-users making their way down the branching hallway. The corridor took them around several corners of irregular angles and even slumped into a soil-dusted pit that the two were forced to climb through, spaced-apart wooden chairs lining their path all the while.

"Gahh... How long is this hallway going to be?" Yselt asked with great annoyance. "I swear, if this way ends up being a dead end, I'm going to lose my mind."

"Amen to that," Wymare concurred, dusting dirt from the sunken portion of the hall off his clothes. "It feels as though we're in a maze."

Yselt seemed to have no reply, only trudging onward and rounding another sharp corner. This time, however, Wymare heard her gasp out of surprise, prompting him to pick up the pace and meet her around the bend.

Further down the hall from the corner they'd just turned past was a set of two double doors that looked to be in even worse disrepair than the one Yselt had smashed down, with a higher concentration of chairs than the rest of the hall gathered in front of them. Wymare and Yselt shared a look between themselves, nodding in agreement without any need for words. Gripping their weapons with greater intensity, the two began to approach the double doors with the intent to discover what lay beyond them.

"Hey, where did Clerebold go? Why'd the professor take him aside?"

Wymare and Yselt froze dead in their tracks, looking to each other again to confirm that the voice they were hearing was neither of theirs. Indeed, a young boy's voice seemed to reverberate from nowhere, fading away just as abruptly as it had appeared.

"What... in the hell was that?" Wymare asked, his voice uneasy.

"I-I don't know..." Yselt answered. "It... sounded familiar, though..."

With both of them shaken, Wymare summoned his strength and took the next steps forward, fighting back every instinct in his body that screamed at him to turn around and leave. The will he'd mustered seemed to inspire Yselt, much to his relief, as she began to follow behind him with her flail held at the ready.

"He almost never gets in trouble... d'you think his sister did something?"

A girl's voice echoed from the walls this time, giving the two Persona-users momentary pause before they continued. As they approached the double doors, the chairs on the floor seemed to flicker between their standard brown finish and a dull grey color, making Wymare and Yselt's silent forward march an even more unnerving endeavor.

"He sure seemed glum, whatever it was... Oh well, I'm sure he'll be back soon."

Yselt was beginning to look ill as she followed in Wymare's footsteps, but she did her best to steel herself for what was to come. After pushing the chairs that were piled up in front of the doors out of the way, Wymare reached down, hesitated a moment, and grabbed the long metal handles of both doors, pushing them open with a loud, painful screech from their ancient hinges.

The double doors opened to reveal an abandoned mess hall, with disorganized stools, upturned metal tables, and rotten food scattered all about the open space revealing its long-standing state of disrepair. The smell of rust and mold hit Wymare's nose seconds after he'd opened the doors, making his face scrunch up as he let out a disgusted noise. Only a handful of candles mounted on the support beams, the only fixtures still placed in an orderly fashion, were still burning, their wicks burned down to their last legs and the melted wax spilling over the candleholders and onto the floor.

Looking at the desecrated canteen, Wymare felt his stomach begin to curdle, and he was fairly certain that it wasn't because of the mold. Raw, unfiltered dread poured through his every nerve, with Yselt, his only comfort, quivering next to him in a similar state.

"Clerebold... Mister Clerebold? Over here, young man."

Wymare and Yselt heard another voice, this time that of a concerned-sounding older woman, ring out from somewhere in the darkness of the cafeteria. Bristling with anticipation and nervousness, Wymare's grip on the handle of his axe tightened, his knuckles turning a ghostly white.

"These voices... Where are they coming from?" Wymare wondered, his gaze shifting around the empty mess hall.

"Hold on... I know that voice," Yselt murmured. As Wymare turned to address her, her voice suddenly shot up in volume as the pieces in her head finally clicked into place, exclaiming, "I remember now! That voice is Miss Arlene, Clerebold's old homeroom teacher! And the 'CA' on the chairs... it's 'Claudas Academy', the school Clerebold and I went to!"

"Really!?" Wymare responded, shocked. "Then... were those other voices classmates of his? But then, why are they all-"

Before he could continue thinking aloud, the mess hall began flickering between color and grey, much like the chairs in the hallway behind them had been. It was minor at first, only distorting small portions of the room in isolated occurrences, but it quickly began to engulf the entire room, leaving Wymare and Yselt bracing themselves with no idea of if they were in danger. The cafeteria began to change as the warping spread, and it soon had consumed the whole room, revealing a wholly different sight to the two Persona-users.

The mess hall was now a charming school lunchroom stocked with brand-new oak tables and wooden chairs, the latter matching with the previous bunches of chairs they had seen scattered through the hall. Dozens of teenage youths sporting clean, proper-looking school uniforms populated the lunch tables, swapping stories and laughs as they partook in hearty trays of food. The previously absent sounds of life filled the air, and off to the side of it all, Wymare and Yselt stared at the achromic scene, slack-jawed with awe.

"What is..." Wymare trailed off, his words failing him. For all he thought he now understood about Parallel Brilan, it seemed that it would still be more than capable of surprising him.

"H-How is this... I can't believe it," Yselt marveled. "It looks just like how I remember it... And these people, I-I... I never thought I would see them again...!"

Yselt's voice choked up as she began to grow emotional, memories of her leisurely life flooding back in the face of familiar stimuli. Wymare tried to think of some way to comfort his sniffling companion, but before he could, a certain member of the lunchroom crowd caught his eye, and his focus instantly shifted to them.

"Look; over there!" Wymare pointed across the room, prompting Yselt to notice what he'd seen and gasp. Seated at a table with a few other students of Claudas Academy was Clerebold himself, sporting a school uniform of his own and looking visibly younger than his present self. Even more alarming was the fact that Clerebold was the only distorted recreation in the room that had retained his color, causing him to stick out like a sore thumb.

"...Mister Clerebold? Over here, young man."

Wymare and Yselt heard the same voice that had sounded off when they'd first entered the decrepit canteen, but this time it seemed less disembodied and more present in the space around them. It was then that they noticed a formally dressed woman marching across the cafeteria toward Clerebold's table, a stern yet worried look on her face. This, Wymare presumed, was the aforementioned Miss Arlene, and this theory seemed to be supported as she reached Clerebold's lunch table, standing behind him. As the younger Clerebold turned in his chair to look up at his teacher, the rest of the lunchroom's noise became more muted, seemingly honing in on the conversation that was just now beginning to take place.

"Yes? What is it, Missus Arlene?" Clerebold asked, sounding perplexed by her demeanor.

"I'm sorry, but you must come with me at once," the teacher replied, not waiting for an answer as she reached down and grabbed Clerebold's arm. "Something has happened that the headmaster must discuss with you."

"W-What? But I haven't done anything wrong," pleaded Clerebold, his voice wavering. "I haven't finished my food yet!"

"There is no time for that. It's an urgent matter involving your family." Despite her insistence, Miss Arlene seemed to hesitate a moment, pausing her tugging on Clerebold's shirt sleeve to collect herself before looking into his eyes with a serious gaze.

"...Your mother and father..."

To Wymare and Yselt's horror, the figure of Miss Arlene began to twitch and shake as she spoke, her voice beginning to warp from that of an older woman into something far more demonic. A black haze began to crawl up her shoulders from her back, slithering across her like a serpent and slowly enveloping more and more of her body. The recreated Miss Arlene's true nature was swiftly coming into focus, with her body convulsing and shifting in unnatural ways and her eyes becoming gleaming red orbs as the darkness overtook her face.

Realizing what was about to happen, Wymare readied his axe and turned to Yselt, who was still stunned by what she was witnessing. "Get ready!" he shouted, snapping her out of her stupor just as Miss Arlene spoke again.

"...HAvE deSErTEd ThE BRilaNIaN aRMY."

Upon finishing its sentence, the Shadow that had been Miss Arlene erupted with a spray of black and red, the black-and-white recreation of Clerebold's past collapsing in on it as it grew in size to loom over Wymare and Yselt. The Shadow whipped its head back as it revealed its real form to be that of a beautiful warrioress clad in revealing armor and bearing a massive sword and a colossal shield. A long wave of green hair flowed from the top of its head, and once its transformation was complete, it turned its furious gaze on the two Persona-users, banging its blade on the front face of its shield as a warrior-style challenge.

Wymare had precious little time to recognize the Shadow's challenge before it dashed forward and brought its blade up to strike. Thinking fast, he raised his axe and shouted, "GAWAIN!" The Persona appeared moments before he and Yselt would have been rent asunder by the Shadow's weapon, raising its own sword to block the stroke. The two blades collided, and for a moment Gawain fought to win out against the massive Shadow's strength, but it was overpowered and flung off to the side, slamming into Wymare on the way and knocking the boy on his rear with a pained groan.

The Shadow rushed in to capitalize on Wymare's weakness, but Yselt leaped in to intercept with a swing of her flail, forcing it to shift to its shield to defend against the attack. The force of Yselt's strike managed to push the Shadow back a short distance, allowing Yselt to fully position herself between the raging Shadow and her downed comrade.

"Worry not, Wymare," Yselt reassured, spinning her flail preparedly. "I'll handle this one. COME, NIKANJ!"

Yselt's Persona appeared from her weapon in a burst of blue flame, the otherworldly entity writhing its body and waving its tendrils as an intimidation display. The Shadow was not impressed, however, and it readied its blade again, dashing ahead to attack. Yselt again leaped into the air to meet it halfway, this time swinging her flail in a wide arc to disrupt the trajectory of its sword and upset its balance. With the gap in its guard that her parry had exposed, Yselt waved a hand in the Shadow's direction, Nikanj following her command and bashing the Shadow in the stomach with one of its thick legs.

The Shadow went crashing through several mess hall tables before it drove the tip of its blade into the ground, halting its momentum and allowing it to recover from Yselt's attack. To follow up, Nikanj channeled energy into the helix tendrils that sprouted from the flower-like appendage atop its head, the orbs at the ends brimming with blue light.

"Go down! Frei!" Yselt commanded. At her cue, Nikanj began firing off several Frei blasts in the Shadow's direction as Yselt ran ahead to pursue her enemy. Seeing an array of bright blue energy spheres coming towards it, the Shadow raised itself to full height and readied its weapons. Nikanj's blasts exploded harmlessly against the face of its shield, and as Yselt ran up alongside the last few, it switched to its sword to cleave the spheres in half, explosions of nuclear energy going off all around it.

Under her Persona's covering fire, Yselt was now right at the Shadow's feet, and she leaped up to strike with her flail again. This time, however, the Shadow had its blade lifted high, pink and white energy rippling around the weapon. Not understanding the Shadow's attack until it was too late to dodge, Yselt was hammered by a small burst of psychokinetic power that the Shadow had conjured right in her face, extracting a cry of pain from the Persona-user as she fell to the ground in a heap.

With Yselt on the floor recovering from the psychokinetic attack, the warrioress Shadow brought back its left leg before kicking her across the room like a ball. Appearing as little more than a black blur of motion that shot through the air, Yselt went flying into the wall, bouncing off on impact from the force of the Shadow's attack and falling for a bit before her Persona appeared below her to catch her mid-fall and prevent another painful landing.

Yselt seemed relatively unharmed by the Shadow's kick, but as Nikanj set her down the grimace on her face proved that the Shadow's psychic power was a major problem for her. Despite the throbbing pain in her skull, she shook herself off and began spinning her flail again, this time launching herself through the air with the help of her Persona to strike from over the Shadow's head. The Shadow raised its shield to once again block her attack, forcing Yselt to use the shield as a springboard to jump back and avoid a dangerous follow-up from the Shadow's sword.

From the sidelines of the battle, Wymare watched Yselt's natural ease with her flail, impressed by her performance thus far. It was clear that she would struggle to take out the Shadow on her own, however, and so he readied his axe again before running toward their foe, Gawain flying in at his side. They had come too far to lose now, and with any luck, they would be able to bring down their opposition before anything else could happen.

. . .

"H... Hello...? I-Is anyone out there?"

Merliad's voice went unanswered as they called out into the seemingly abandoned halls of the Mage's Guild. They weren't sure why, but something about this place had a very ominous energy to it, and the worry that was setting in over them was amplified by the unknown nature of the door with the plaque that they had just passed through. They were positive that it had never been there before in their time at Castle Gornemant, and given its placement on a wall that should have led to outside the castle walls when they stepped through, its existence seemed like an impossibility.

And yet here they were, wandering around in an inverted recreation of the castle corridors that seemed to perfectly match every detail about the one they'd just departed from. Where plenty of casters and scribes had been shuffling up and down the halls, however, there was now a total lack of life in this backward reflection of the castle, an eerie quiet hanging in the air in such a way that made Merliad feel small and alone.

"Hellooo...?" Merliad called out again. "Wymare...? Yselt?"

Nothing about this was making sense, a fact that only compounded Merliad's anxiety. Was this the place the two of them had used to disappear where there should have been no way out? But then, what was this place? Did they have control over it? It certainly wasn't any kind of magic that Merliad was familiar with, although there was indeed a strange energy that they could sense coming from deeper within. Unsure of what to do or where to go, Merliad obeyed their innate curiosity, exploring this strange place further and attempting to not get turned around by the castle wing's inverted layout.

After a few instances of getting lost in the twisted halls, Merliad managed to find their way to the upper level of the castle's main hall. It, too, was deserted, which seemed even more unbelievable to them than the Mage's Guild wing being empty. The main hall was always abuzz with visitors until the deep hours of the night where it was closed off for security purposes, so to neither see nor hear anyone in the grand foyer was both unusual and disturbing.

"This is very, very wrong... Just what have you stumbled your way into now, Gerves?" Merliad muttered as they made their way down the stairs to the ground floor, their eyes nervously shifting about the hall. They walked toward the center of the room to take another sweeping survey of their surroundings, stopping when they turned to face the main entrance as their eyes widened in shock.

"Wh-what in the world...?" Merliad gaped at the state of the city past the castle's drawbridge, seeing that the sky was a sickly green rather than its usual bright blue. "Gods, what's happened here...!?"

As they took a nervous step back at the sight of the sky, Merliad suddenly heard a noise like someone humming to themselves coming from behind them. They whirled around with an arm outstretched, ready to cast elemental magic in self-defense, only to behold an astonishingly short human-like entity walking across the main hall, seemingly oblivious to their presence. Their facial hair was long and white, they wore a blue robe and a black and green striped headband, and they were carrying a large leaf over their shoulder by the plant's stem. The tiny man was humming a cheerful-sounding tune to himself as he walked, only covering a few inches with each step due to his stubby legs.

"Oh, h-hello there... sir...?" Merliad greeted, unsure of whether the creature that had appeared before them was a child or an elder. "Y-You didn't... happen to see a boy and a girl run by here, did you...?"

The short man stopped and turned to face Merliad, who still wore a look of visible confusion on their face. He rocked back and forth on his heels as he stared Merliad down with his two beady eyes, his silence now making Merliad unsure of whether or not the man had even heard their question.

"Um... Are you lost? I can give you directions if that's what you-"

"Filthy inmate... Kill you DEAD!"

"E-Excuse me?" Merliad squeaked at the small man's sudden declaration. The only answer they received, however, was a wave of his tall leaf, the motion of which formed an icicle out of thin air that flew at their head.

Merliad leaned out of harm's way in the nick of time, the spear of frozen water brushing past their cheek before it shattered against the wall behind them. Seeing that the leaf-bearing creature was forming another ice shard, they raised their hand again, channeled a circle of bright red runes in their palm, and blasted a small fireball in retaliation. The magic flame struck its target right in the chest, and the short man let out a horrific screech as his entire body went up in flames and crumbled away, his leaf slowly falling to the floor.

Merliad's breathing became heavy as a greater sense of panic began to take root in their heart. Not only were they unsure of what the creature attacking them had been, but they had never killed a living thing with magic before, an act that they were sure was disallowed by the Guild's precepts. It may have only been in retaliation, but that was enough to make Merliad uneasy. Before they could reflect on their actions for too long, though, they heard another humming noise come from above them.

Merliad looked up to see another leaf-bearing man peering over the railing of the second floor that overlooked the castle's main hall, identical in every way to the one they had just sublimated. At the sight of the abandoned leaf sitting on the floor in front of Merliad, the short man seemed to switch from placid curiosity to vengeful anger, jumping up and down while letting out a cry that, while sounding harmless and almost cute to Merliad, was unlikely to mean anything good.

Sure enough, the small man's shouting turned out to be a call to arms as several more creatures bearing its likeness popped up over the second floor banister, all of them hopping mad over the slaying of their brethren. Merliad stared with wide eyes as the assembled mob began to storm down the stairs and rush at them, and when they turned around to make a break for the exit, they were astonished to see yet more leaf-wielding creatures blocking the way, a mishmash of furious mumblings coming from them as ice brimmed from the tips of their leaves.

Terrified at the prospect of being skewered by a blizzard of icicles, Merliad began looking around the main hall for another way to escape, setting eyes on the stairwell that led into the further depths of the castle. It was far from ideal, but it was the only option they could work out, and so they sprinted as fast as their legs would carry them, flying down the stairs while shooting more fire magic into the crowd that was chasing them. With every pursuer that they burned, however, it seemed to only anger the rest of them further, and soon Merliad's focus was entirely on running away, leading them to round the first exit from the stairwell that they recognized: the Scadarah laborer's floor.

As they stepped onto what should have been a floor of dingy rooms fashioned from old prison cells, however, Merliad was appalled to see that they were walking straight into an actual prison. The decaying cell block was a shock to their senses, but with the mob of ice-attuned creatures hot on their heels, they had no choice but to run toward the broken-down door at the other end of the room. A litany of unanswered questions was burning in their mind, but with imminent death just behind them and with nowhere else to run, Merliad was forced to keep moving, all the while hoping on a prayer that they would find something in this hellish realm that would protect them.

. . .

Gawain's blade flashed through the air as it dueled the massive warrioress Shadow spawned from Clerebold's distorted past, pushing the monster back as Wymare attempted to put a hole in its defenses with his Persona. The Shadow was quick with its guard, parrying and matching each of the armored Persona's strikes, but its attention was entirely focused on this defensive endeavor. Recognizing this, Wymare looked across the room to lock eyes with Yselt, who had positioned herself behind the Shadow on the other side of the mess hall.

"Yselt, hit it!" Wymare called out, readying his axe for a Persona Change.

"On it!" Yselt replied, spinning her flail to channel her Persona before commanding, "Let her have it, Nikanj!"

Nikanj let loose another short volley of nuclear blasts, the spheres hitting home and exploding against the Shadow's back. Despite the monster's resistance to Yselt's blasts reducing the damage they otherwise would have done, the maneuver was enough to make it lose its balance, giving Wymare the opening he'd been waiting for.

"PERSONA CHANGE: MAD HATTER!"

Gawain thrust its sword forward, a gloved fist shooting from the tip and decking the warrioress Shadow across the face with deceptive strength. Dazed by the punch, the Shadow stumbled several steps back, sword and shield flailing uselessly in its hands as it attempted to regain its balance.

"RAIJUU!"

The Shadow had little chance to rebut Wymare's attack before Gawain unleashed a flurry of lightning bolts from its sword. The electricity struck the Shadow's metal armor and arced across its body, electrocuting the monstrous creature to such an extent that it was struggling to move. Ready to capitalize on the opportunity, Wymare ran up to the Shadow with his axe at the ready, leaping off a cafeteria table and flying at the Shadow for a decisive slash to its neck.

Before he was even within striking range, however, the Shadow gathered the strength it needed to fight through Gawain's Zio skill, its eyes flashing open to glare at Wymare with a strange power. Midway through his jump, Wymare suddenly felt his limbs seize up as paralysis locked up his joints and prevented him from moving, his axe now motionless in his hands. At the same time, Gawain was racked with the same immobility as its user, leaving it unable to attack and therefore freeing the Shadow from the electricity.

Wymare was swiftly swatted by the Shadow's shield into the ceiling of the mess hall, cratering the stone upon impact before falling to the floor like a ragdoll. A dull pain throbbed across his body, but the Shadow's surprise attack left him unable to get up, leaving him lying face-down on the floor as his Persona dissipated with no further commands coming from its user.

"Wymare, no!" Yselt cried, running in the direction of her downed teammate as Nikanj flew in to attack in Gawain's stead. Fed up with the two Persona-users, however, the Shadow simply turned and swung its blade with all its might, cleaving Nikanj in two with one fell stroke. The Persona's instant shattering upon being bisected was accompanied by an agonized shriek from Yselt as she, too, collapsed to the floor, so consumed by the pain that now infested her mind that she could not muster the strength to keep moving.

With both Persona-users on the ground, the Shadow grinned and stabbed its sword into the floor, leaving its weapon there to free up a hand with which to pick Yselt up by the collar of her sackcloth shirt. The girl struggled to break free, but with barely enough strength to keep a grip on her flail, she was unable to escape as the Shadow lifted her to be level with its face.

The Shadow had a look of smug delight on its face as it opened its mouth. Rather than move Yselt closer as if to take a bite out of her, however, it instead began to suck in a deep breath, drawing a trail of sparkling energy from Yselt's mouth and happily sucking it down. Yselt began to feel her strength leave her as the Shadow drained her of her life, only managing to mumble, "No... Get... away..." as her vision began to fade to black and she let go of her flail, the weapon plummeting to the floor.

Further to the side, Wymare grunted as he strained his body to stand, having felt the paralysis instilled in him by the Shadow's gaze fade away at last. Using his axe to balance his weight as he got back up, he coughed and shook his head to dispel his dizziness, his eyesight slowly coming back into focus as he recollected himself. What he saw through the blurriness as he looked up, however, shocked him out of his weariness and filled him again with the will to fight.

"YSELT!" Wymare screamed, his feet pounding against the floor as he bolted toward the Shadow to save his friend. Well aware that he would likely just be tossed aside were he to jump up and attack, however, he instead lowered his axe before throwing it skyward with an emboldened shout, the weapon spinning clockwise as it sailed into the air and the Shadow's field of vision.

Annoyed that its meal was being interrupted, the Shadow prepared to simply bat the weapon aside with its shield. Before it could do so, Gawain appeared from the weapon and unleashed a forceful whirlwind against the axe. Bolstered by the Persona's intense winds, Wymare's weapon shot forward and sank the blade of its head into the Shadow's shoulder, punching through its armor with a satisfying chunk. The Shadow hissed and recoiled, ceasing its feasting and dropping Yselt as it went to tend to its injury.

Wymare caught Yselt before she could hit the floor, sliding to a halt to care for the motionless girl in his arms. Her pale skin was even paler than usual as much of the color had drained from her face and her eyes were closed tight, unresponsive despite the commotion caused by Wymare's frantic assault. Gawain flew down to its user's side as he looked over Yselt's body, and Wymare turned to his Persona with a stern look, knowing just what to do.

"Change: Fortuna! Use Recarm!"

Gawain nodded in response to Wymare's order as it harnessed a new Persona's power, placing a metal hand to the top of Yselt's head. The orb in Wymare's axe glowed green as the Persona change took effect, and a collection of fresh dew formed over Yselt's body before falling onto her chest, sinking through her clothes and into her skin. Yselt's body glowed with a soft light as her vitality was restored, and within moments, Yselt's eyes fluttered open again, looking tired.

"Unhh... Wymare..." Yselt whispered, her voice washing away the worry on Wymare's face. "Thanks... for the help."

"Don't mention it," replied Wymare. It seemed that Yselt was still not back to her full strength, but she was at least hanging in there, and so he helped her stand on her own again before looking up at the Shadow, which was still clawing at its shoulder in an attempt to dislodge Wymare's axe. "This thing is tough... We'll have to give it our all if we want to beat it here."

"I would hope you've been giving it your all since the fight started." Yselt laughed as she held out her hand, her flail returning to her in a flourish of blue flame. Nikanj, freshly summoned and back in one piece, healed the rest of her injuries with Dia before turning its focus to Wymare and restoring his health as well. "But you're right. What do you suggest we do?"

"Well, we're not going to get close enough to hurt it with that shield in the way," Wymare noted. "If we can find a way to disarm it, or at least divert its attention long enough, then we'll be able to-"

Wymare abruptly stopped talking when he heard a noise coming from the hall that had led them to the prison canteen. He turned to look at the closed double doors with confusion as he heard the sounds of footsteps, ragged breaths, and the occasional roaring of fire. Yselt heard it just as Wymare had turned around, and she followed suit with an equally confused look, the two of them watching the double doors with anticipation as the sounds grew louder and closer.

In a panicked, screaming frenzy, Merliad burst through the doors to the mess hall while tripping over the heap of chairs that were piled up in the adjoining corridor, landing on their face with a painful thump. They scrambled to get back up, grimacing as they did so and rubbing the palm of their hand on their left knee.

"Oww... I think that's a scrape down there," Merliad grumbled, not having noticed that they were being stared at.

"Merliad!?" Wymare exclaimed, visibly shocked by the caster's appearance. Only at their name being called did Merliad shoot their gaze up and realize that they had found familiar faces at last.

"Wymare!? Yselt!? What are you doing in here!? Don't you know how dangerous this place is?"

"W-Wait, you know of me?" Yselt asked, puzzled. "And what do you mean, 'don't you know'?"

"T-They're coming! There are dozens of tiny people with leaves trying to kill me!" Merliad spluttered, pushing themselves onto their feet as they breathlessly tried to explain what had happened back in the castle's main hall. "I-I'll keep them back, so please just run awaaaAAAAT IN THE GODS' NAMES IS THAT!?"

Merliad balked and fell down screaming once again at the sight of the warrioress Shadow, the giant enemy snarling and roaring as it still struggled to extract Wymare's weapon from its shoulder. At the same time, Wymare and Yselt looked down the hall through the double doors and saw a rushing wave of Shadows chasing after Merliad, loosely matching their description of 'tiny people with leaves'.

"Yselt, keep them back," Wymare directed, stepping toward the door to face the Shadows. Yselt nodded and reached down to help Merliad up from the floor, the latter looking after Wymare incredulously.

"A-Are you mad!? You're marching toward certain death, you blithering fool! They'll-"

Merliad's protests were silenced as Wymare raised his arm out at his side, his axe appearing in his open hand as he summoned it back from the giant Shadow. As the mob of leaf-bearing Shadows drew closer with every second, Wymare assumed a pitching stance and readied his weapon to strike.

"First, Tarukaja..." Wymare narrated as he channeled one of his Persona's skills, a red aura flaring to life around him that coincided with a rushing feeling of empowerment. The enraged Shadows were almost to the double doors, and with his concentration sharpened by a soft exhale, Wymare's eyes shot open as he went on the offensive.

"...Now! PERSONA!"

As soon as Wymare threw his axe forward with a horizontal spin, Gawain appeared behind him and again propelled its user's weapon forward with a spiraling twister of green wind. The whirlwind drew the crowd of Shadows into Wymare's axe, mowing through them all with the ease of a sickle cutting wheat. By the time Wymare's axe slammed into the far wall of the corridor, every Shadow that had been pursuing Merliad was either split in half and decomposing or had fled in terror, and Wymare called his axe back to him while dismissing Gawain in turn, a blue orb flying from the dissipating mounds of Shadows and embedding itself in the axe's steel bit.

Yselt grinned at the sight of Wymare's Shadow culling, continually impressed by how naturally using his Persona in battle seemed to come to him. Merliad, on the other hand, resembled a fish out of water with how wide-open their mouth was, completely dumbfounded by what they had just witnessed.

"I- Wha- How- WHAT!?" they finally spat out, lost for words as to express the depth of their confusion.

"We'll explain later," Yselt replied, stepping away from Merliad to swing her flail in preparation for the continuation of their fight. "For now, we've got a bigger foe to take care of."

"Oh, I think you'd do well to make that two."

The three spun around as a familiar voice rang out from behind them. A cocky grin on his face, Shadow Clerebold stepped out of the darkness that engulfed the further recesses of the mess hall, his glowing yellow eyes piercing through the gloom before the rest of him was visible. The warrioress Shadow, now free of Wymare's axe, reclaimed its sword from the floor and stood at the warden's side like a bodyguard, prepared to keep its master safe from the intruding Persona-users at all costs. Safe from harm, Shadow Clerebold strode forward with his hands behind his back, addressing the three humans before him with a sickly sweet smirk.

"Well, well, well... Once again, my wisdom proves to hold water," Shadow Clerebold gloated, eyes locked on Merliad's bewildered expression. "The only thing scum is good for is attracting its own kind. I will say, however, that it was beyond my expectations for you to find this place. Admirable work... for a degenerate outsider."

Noticing that Clerebold's Shadow was not addressing either of them, Wymare and Yselt looked to Merliad, who broke away from their protection and stepped back with a look of fear.

"'Admirable work'...? What is that supposed to mean?" Yselt asked.

"It is only further proof that my intuition is infallible," Shadow Clerebold boasted before Merliad could explain themselves. "The powerless and desperate are all too easy to manipulate if you simply know how to pick apart their vulnerabilities. For example..."

Shadow Clerebold paused for dramatic effect, his eyes sparkling with sadistic joy as he relished in Merliad's helpless expression. "...What do you do with a hapless runaway who plays at being a prodigy in the magical arts, yet cannot abstain from rolling in the mud with common swine? Why, you let them lead the pigs to the slaughter, of course."

"T-That's not what I was doing!" interrupted Merliad, desperate to dispel the looks of distrust that were growing on Wymare and Yselt's faces. "He was going to report me for breaching the precepts by discussing magic studies with a Scadarah... I-I didn't have a choice! I couldn't lose my place in the Guild! Please, you have to believe me!"

"Why should anyone throw in their lot with what you say?" Shadow Clerebold scoffed. "You may have been spying on two unwashed hogs, but even I, the warden, recognize what minuscule value they have as true Brilanians. You... have no such dignity about you."

Wymare blinked at this. "Wait... Merliad isn't from Brilan?"

"H-H-How do you know about that!?" Merliad demanded, now looking more panicked than ever. Their unwillingness to deny Shadow Clerebold's insinuation was proof enough that it was the truth, and the twisted warden's grin only widened as he continued.

"Did you not think such an unscrupulous rumor would circulate like a plague amongst the rabble in the castle? The white-haired youth who fled from their spawning grounds in the northern mountains, slinking their way across our verdant plains until they came upon Rìo Ghaile and found a lucky break with the Mage's Guild... Now THAT'S the kind of story that will get the old wives talking."

"The mountains to the north...?" Yselt repeated, slowly digesting what Shadow Clerebold was implying. "But that would mean-"

"At last, the coin drops!" Shadow Clerebold boomed, crossing his arms and letting out a smug laugh. "That's correct - the vermin that stands before you is of Stézan origin. Our northern neighbors and most hated enemies! Yet this whelp saw fit to pollute our air with their presence, and for what? A selfish bid for a life spent anywhere other than on a trader's ship, forever a slave to their seafaring empire?"

His eyes drilling into Merliad's, Shadow Clerebold began to approach the petrified caster-in-training, a sinister look on his face. Wymare and Yselt stepped in front of him to block his way, but the warrioress Shadow cast its spell on them again, forcing the two Persona-users to crumple to the floor as paralysis locked their strength behind unmoving limbs. Terrified of the approaching warden, Merliad extended their hand to attack with magic, but Shadow Clerebold swatted their hand away with ease and grabbed them by the scruff of their robes, lifting the Stézan caster off the ground.

"I detest repeating myself, but heed my words again, ingrate: the warden's sworn duty is to dispose of our kingdom's trash. Wiping foreign blights like yourself from the face of the nation may not fall under my usual job description, but I'm sure the king will appreciate one less invader within our borders. So once I'm through with these impudent prisoners... I'll be glad to get rid of you next!"

Shadow Clerebold began laughing maniacally as Merliad squirmed and struggled to break his iron grip on them. Despite sensing the futility of their actions, Merliad writhed and kicked at the warden with desperation in their eyes, terrified of what Clerebold had in store for them.

"Grrh... That's... enough...!"

Both Merliad and Shadow Clerebold stopped what they were doing when Wymare, strained by the paralyzing influence the warrioress Shadow had over him, spoke out against the proceedings. Infuriated that his fun was once again being undercut, Shadow Clerebold snapped his head around to shoot a death glare at the Scadarah laborer, and Merliad stared at him with a look of fear in their eyes. Seeing that fear, Wymare continued to speak, struggling and failing to break free of the immobility that plagued him.

"And what... does it change, the fact that they - grr - hail from Stézar? Is that all the reason - ahh - you require to strike someone down? Because you think you're better than them!?"

"The warden needs no justification in his deliverance of justice!" Shadow Clerebold barked. Wymare ignored him, shifting his focus to Merliad.

"Merliad... you surveilled us... to protect yourself. So are you giving in now? Your sacrifices to start over... are you content to let them be for nothing?" Wymare had forced himself onto his hands and knees at this point, panting and heaving from the herculean effort. "Leaving to be on your own... Standing up for yourself... You do such things because you believe in something. So remember what you believed in so strongly... that you gave up the life you knew for it!"

Wymare's words seemed to resonate with Merliad, who seemed shocked at what they were being told. They looked down for a moment, thinking to themselves. The harsh, lonely days of travel across the Stézan mountains and the Brilanian wilds flashed before them in their mind's eye, and as they remembered how they'd felt when they first left home for Brilan, the realization of what Wymare meant with his words struck them like an arrow through the heart.

"...That's right..." Merliad whispered, shaking their head and smiling as a tear welled up in the corner of their eye. "What a fool I am..."

"Oh, spare me your appeals to the heart," Shadow Clerebold groaned, disgusted by Wymare's words. "You really think a putrid rat of Stézar can be reasoned with through words? If that was the case, there'd be no need for the damn military! The only thing a Stézan understands is war, deceit, and-"

"I've had enough... of your flat-minded platitudes!"

While Shadow Clerebold had been distracted chewing out Wymare, Merliad had conjured white rune circles in their hands, and they slammed those runes into the warden's face. A burst of wind magic exploded from the caster's palms, sending Clerebold's Shadow flying away and letting them fall back to the floor. Shadow Clerebold was caught out of the air by the warrioress Shadow, and as he was returned to the ground with a furious look on his face, Merliad stepped forward to position themselves between the Shadows and the paralyzed Persona-users, magic runes appearing in their palms again.

"I must say, for all the bile about Stézans that leaves your mouth, your blind Brilanian patriotism makes me question whether or not I ever truly left that country," Merliad stated. "It's no different from the indoctrination I faced when I lived there. Fostering the demonization of others, stoking hysteria to excuse further bloodshed... Are you truly so different from the nation you despise?"

"Don't you DARE equate me with them!" Shadow Clerebold snapped. "For this slight, I swear on my status as warden that-"

"No. I've bowed the knee for long enough. Threaten me all you like, but whatever consequence comes as a result of my actions... I'll accept it as my own if it's to live my life for my beliefs. That is the freedom I'd forgotten to strive for!"

With their vow to themselves reestablished, Merliad swung their arms up to aim their hand runes at the Shadows in front of them, prepared to use the full extent of their magic to ensure their victory.

"And if you fancy me a humble doormat, another of your inmates that you can push around with impunity... then you, supervisor, are SORELY mistaken!"

"Have you the will to weather that hate?"