The only thing greeting me is an immeasurable void. It stays for hours upon hours without any single movement from either of us. No sound, image, or anything coming out, Nothing. Not even a single scratch of the ever-present tendrils of fear. Just nothing.

Did I even exist at this point?

The suffocating atmosphere soaks my body from the mattress strangling me. The anguishing heat throughout my body makes me roll out in the bed to find a single cold spot into the ocean of blazing furnace in my bed, the futile attempts of searching it that only leads to the same status quo: The feverish shock between reality and dream, a furnace burning me whole and melting away any single comfort, flashes of dreamless sleep drowning into a sea of delirious wake-ups.

The migraines wake me up, the pain is worse than an axe splitting my skull in two. At least, this hell is over. I don't feel like going out of bed. My body is heavier than steel, and with only enough energy left to allow me to gaze at the ceiling, nothing more. My face embedded with sweatness and nothing else, and confusion takes over as the world seemingly spins around.

But even staying on the mattress has its fair share of problems. The sweat on my body acts like glue, sticking the blanket onto my skin. the feverish hotness into my corpse, and the atmosphere still stuffy from the nightmarish night of yesterday and this eve. I howl at the situation befalling before I falter into a sigh. It's a long day ahead and it will not allow me to rest for a single second, damned by the migraines and myself.

Should I take even a swig of the bitter liquid? Do I prefer loads of pain? Or to drink a bitter healing liquid where the side effects of its long exposure are not well-known to solve the well-known illness known as migraines?

Either way, This is going to suck. And where is the medication, anyway? Do I even have it? Or has my mind been so fuzzy that I tricked myself into thinking that I have something to dull a little bit of the pain? And what hour is it? Is it still night?, Or have people finally left their rooms? I hear no single step, only the recurrent march of silence and the imaginary sound of supposed torches. Did I even light a torch yesterday? Is it even dark here, or is there light? What the hell is going on at this point?

I make an attempt to arch my arms and stretch my legs and body, trying to remove the influence of the suffocating blanket Another struggle ensues, the little bolts of electricity puncturing my tendons while the cloth tangles with my clothes and cover while, of course, strangling. I roll out trying to get the thing off of my body while grabbing it.

The blunt of rocks strikes my bones and a splash of blood taints my robes after I fall from my bed. What a great way to start the day. The cold ground hugging me and seducing me into its catatonic splendor. Why should I get out of the rocks? There is simply no meaning to get out of this state. there is simply no meaning to this or anything. Problems just pile up one against the other. every single time. The blurring of foolish people. The numerous discussions of why I'm here. The body of the person I have killed. I'm just tired.

I wish I still had the ability to laugh at my own misery. To make the events around me less bleak. A comforting thought at the situation around this kingdom and its future, the ever-approaching problem. But what can I laugh at? Seeing corpses left and right? The rites of fanatics that made me aware of how much they want to destroy this earth? Almost being killed? What's to laugh about all that? How childish must I have become to even want to laugh at these events?

I can't be in this state for way too long. Time will move and will I be left behind. And that will be it for me, to be stuck in this rotten room till I die. What a pointless endeavor and tiring prospect. Should I even cry for this? I don't feel like crying and maybe I shouldn't after all.

Like a slug, I try to make my way back to being a human and not a single motionless spot on the ground. With my faltering arms and slumbering feet, I force the flesh and tendons to move once again and stand for myself. Once I'm on my way to the foot, the ground stops existing as vertigo takes hold of me. A bottomless pit opens and the power of gravity smashes any semblance of energy left in me as my eyes try to close again.

Calm down, exhale, and inhale. The void disappears as I come back into the world. The drops drip of the red liquid and make their little splash sounds, the stained robe by blood in my body, a reminder of what I have become.

What possibly can I do to deal with the stains? At least the colors of my clothes are dark as the night. But part of it reflects on the golden bits, dulling and becoming the antithesis of them. The color of fortune and misfortune sing their disharmony together, another proof of the guilt of my actions.

Still. the red taint is way less perceptible than it should've been. I could pick up some pieces of paper and try to get it out of my clothes, but with that comes the question of what tissue I should use for cleaning any of this mess. The books are out of the question. Maybe I can use the blanket. After all, who needs heat in this godforsaken desert?

With my step, a splosh sound hits my ear as a cold liquid sticks to my foot. How could I forget? look on the ground and a part of the blanket is already soaking up the liquid. I guess a part of the problem is already being solved as I ramble.

I crouch and pick up a part of the blanket and start scrubbing it around. I use it as a makeshift sponge, soaking up the blood into the fabric of the clothes until only a few remaining drops remain on the ground. The whole absorption makes it impossible to use this as a towel, I'm only going to get bloodier and wetter with that thing on.

And now the blanket starts to leak out a few droplets, great. What place can I hide it or even put it? Think, think! The most obvious object stares at me. Of course! The wardrobe! I put it in there and close, trying to forget it ever existed in the first place, hoping the smell doesn't invade and infect the room.

Then I notice a metallic flash on the ground, some parts reflecting brightly, others not so much. Like a ring, it calls me, seducing me to pick up and seize for myself. Of course, what else could it be?

I finally used the blade last night. So long has passed from the first time I saw it. Eons ago, long before the world started to reveal its true nature to me. The weapon which brought so much misery to me. The beginning of my fall, and yet my savior. Truly a double-edged dagger.

Maybe it is a good option to use it after all. I don't know when another person will want to kill me again, but this dagger may be more trouble than it's worth. Then I look at the thing and I drop it as the memory of both men dying comes to me like bullets. Both bodies staring back at me with their empty gazes and even hollower sounds coming out of them. No! Get out! Get out of my mind! I don't want to touch the blade at all! I shook my head, trying to cease the flashes of memory out of existence.

What I can do now? Blood is on my hands, and I feel a little bit lost. Even if I wanted to get out of here right now, part of my clothes are soaked in the liquid, so this isn't a great nor smart option, I might be suspected and executed on the spot. And it isn't like I have any reason to go outside, and besides, I don't feel like going out anyway.

So what am I supposed to do?

I collapse again into the bed, the lingering question burning through me, what the hell am I supposed to do? Reaching into what's left of my mind leads into a void where nothing comes, only static noises and guilt. I stare at the ceiling looking for a way to pass the stuck time, I start to count the shadows or the little imperfections of the rocks.

"Um, dois, três, quatro, cinco, six, seven, eight, nine, ten…" It's like counting sheep, but somehow even more boring than normal It hurts my eyes even more, and to such a little payoff, anguish in my gut taking over yet again. I wish I was still somewhat sleepy, but the pain nagging inside my head stops me from going back to another round of sleep. I hate migraines.

At this point, what action should I take? One or another always leads to another pointless endeavor at best, where I learn nothing or lead me into almost certain death. I need to stop complaining about things, the energy spent on them could be used for something more useful than thinking about how boredom is the sole state of the mind.

The ferric smell consummates the room spreads throughout all of it, the source, of course, concentrated into the wardrobe. Flashes of the kills invade my mind like a bullet, yet again. Now underneath their bodies Mother's face forms. My hair stiffens while nausea takes over me. The rotten appearance makes me coil further into the bed, while I grab my robes as fast and tight as I can, constraining myself into a fetal position. Get out of my head! Get out! Just stop!

I can barely control myself at this point. What a failure! I stop struggling in the episodes. My body sweats cold while the memories keep repeating like a broken record. The sensation of hands on my throat, while I anticipate for the worst that never comes, the images of punishment and estrangement. The memory passes and what is left of me is the emptiness.

Is there even an escape for this? Another pointless question to be asked. I take two very large breaths, sucking the most amount of air possible as a calming effect for the nerves. The famous one, inspire and two, exhale. Maybe I can get out of bed right now.

It takes another struggle to get out of it. One step to get the thing out of me slogs through time, the movement of the foot to arrive at the hard ground as slow-motion, little messages of my brain shocking with each other. Surrender is always an option.

With the foot set, the energy passes and extinguishes, as if it never belonged to me again. Once again, I ask again what I'm supposed to be doing. Why make this step? On the ground, dizziness takes hold. Another step, another question to be made. What the hell am I doing?

My body ignores my orders or even my thoughts. As if it is its own creature, it moves without my command, in spite of the disarray of my mind. I stop once reality strikes back. Fatigue fights back and I collapse to the ground, while I stare at nothing in particular, just an empty void.

My mind goes into null, another case of gazing at the deep end, and wondering what is even going on. No sound or image invades nor does my memory play black, my mind as empty as it can possibly be, just another blank into the sea of forgotten memories and small moments that last into eternity yet only last a few seconds.

At this point, I stop counting how many times I already dozed off or became empty. Another cycle feeding into another cycle. I look at the dagger, the plated crust and few drops still remaining as the dust accumulates into the glistening metal of the blade, I pick up the blade and start cleaning and grabbing it like a prized possession, as if it was my own child, holding it close to my body until the sickening memories go back and are thrown to the farthest corner I could imagine.

A replay of myself picking up the blade and jamming it into my skull, the same imaginary playbacks I had eons ago back home. How far I have come and how little I have changed, just the same old person, did I truly even change at this point, or am I the same guy? I don't know, and no one barely knows me to say if this is true or not. I like to think that I didn't change, only my desires, but even if that is the case, what even am I anymore? I wish I were home, I truly wish my home back.

Yes, back home. How much has it had changed in the past couple of months or several months, I stopped counting long ago. For all I care it could be 2021 or 2030, the dates don't matter as much as the deadline, but the point is the deadline until the war is going to happen, the only indication just the rumors of the ever-increasing army, but how much until the war machine is going to be built to last an entire war, that question nobody knows the answer, only the deranged mind of Gangrel and whatever his delusions are.

I get up, the clothing sticking to my skin by the wetness of the few drops of blood mixed with the sweat, maybe I should take a bath or something close to that. I sigh, where do I even begin? I pick up the water I have and go back to the mirror and start picking up the water. I can see my somewhat healed nose, a few drops remaining, but not the same as yesterday, or so I think. Just like every day both of my dark spots claiming more and more of my eyes' surroundings, eating my skin like two living animals, and my hair still messy as ever, the neck with the marks of the man's hand, purplish. How ugly.

I pour water into my head and wet the hair, while I try to scrub away anything that reminds me of the red liquid like it's a plague, dust, and other particles mixed with the water, dark liquid spreading through my face and neck. When was the last time I even took something akin to a bath, I don't know. It's nasty, but it's better than dealing with murder and the events happening right now. My damp hair resembles a little bit of that roman emperor Augustus's but it is so long that some strands block my vision, nor does it have the glorified aspect of the statue.

I remove my upper robes, peeling off the tainted dark mage robe that I have received from Tharja and then the old apprentice clothing that I had received way back when I first arrived here. It was months ago that I even removed it from my skin, it's jarring if I'm being honest as if someone removed their own soul, but that's way too dramatic for my tastes. I only stare back at my lack of musculature, but it could be worse. The only thing somewhat present is the scar I received from Henry on my belly, but even that it's fading away as if it was never there to begin with.

I got to see my back after all, that where it needs cleaning the most, after all getting an infection, because of a badly treated wound is something that isn't in the plans. I try to look at where the slash happened, but I barely see anything. Oh wait, I forgot to even light the torches. What a genius mind I have, one that even forgets the bare essential.

I don't care, and go searching whatever happened to my back until I can bandage it, murky with darkened blood, impossible to determine if it's mine or the dead man's or even the most important of all if infection took hold or not. The one million dollar question, impossible to be answered right now. I decide not to risk and put on my robes. Well, at least I'm somewhat clean, right, right?

That leads to one question, my eternal question, the one that strikes back every single time. What do I do now?

Well, I don't know. Maybe if… no! They will certainly discover you, and they will kill you, you did just kill man, you can't just go waltzing around willy nilly as if nothing happened, especially when I can't even hold myself back, that would be complete madness and just irresponsible, I don't want to bring another trouble to Tharja or even Reflet. That would be too selfish, way too selfish.

That leads to only one possible thing to do, to my utter dismay: maybe if a pick up the dagger and start analyzing it once and for all, I can have some clues for what the hell happened or maybe, even somewhat of the origin of this item and track the original owners or something close to that. Who am I kidding, I'm not a detective, how the hell am I capable of tracking down an item, if I can't even stop being hated to the point shadows start attacking me?

Whatever, I don't have anything to do, and at this point, I almost died twice. A blade isn't going to end my life right now, especially when none of its users are alive. Well, I also can be considered one of them, but that's beside the point.

I slowly take my steps toward the damned thing, trying to keep my breathing under control, and slowly pick it up again. It is only a blade, it is only a blade. Repeat. It is only a blade, nothing more and nothing less, it can be only a tool.

I go immediately to the desk and start lighting the few candles, while I also start gazing at the finer details of the weapon that almost brought me to my end. The dagger that belonged to a minor clan is very well made, a silver blade, a red jewel encrusted into the top of the hilt, it reflects way too much to be of bad quality, I can see my face even better than in the mirror, it doesn't feel like a weapon now, it is more of a ritual.

Whoever made this isn't a minor clan, it's too god damn fancy. It belongs to someone, someone that wishes my death very much, but who? Whatever may be the guy who wanted me dead, then question when he planned my death, before I got hated or even before it. Both good questions, though I need more clues to get the answer.

That's life, but where do I even start after this finding? Maybe I could go to the library or something like that, but then I would risk getting myself killed or even worse bring other people into my mess.

Should I go or should I stay here for now?

The decision froze me from any action, the fear impaling me, holding to my heart, and being. I grit my teeth, unlock the lock, and grab the door handle. The few seconds last like an eternity, a static picture and the emotions eating me from inside out. I slowly turn the handle, sweat on my hands, making the action slippery as whatever happens on the other side will be for the worst: an abandoned body in the middle of nowhere.

The lonely air infiltrates my mind as what reveals to me in the corridor is nothing. Nobody appears on the other side, not even a single noise. My breathing is the sole thing hearable kilometers away. My steps are stalking into the floor as no one else appears as I walk towards somewhere, my hands on the dagger, ready for anyone to come.

I go upon Tharja's door. Maybe, she is there and will explain whatever is happening today. Is the whole lamentation's day happening right now? Did it happen beforehand or it was a trick of my mind? I remember when Reflet told me that nobody appears when this day happens, but it can happen at other times?

I do a single knock on the wood. Seconds pass as I look around for anyone or anything watching me. She doesn't answer. I prepare my hand and knock three times. The thump exploding into the hallways, reverberating, and destroying any chance of a quiet escape. One minute, two minutes, and three minutes pass by. Tharja doesn't answer. I gulp dry, where can I go next, and what happened to everyone?

Nobody watches me nor is anyone heard. Not even the eyes of Grima gaze at me. The void and me the sole person in the place, I discard the hypotheses she is even here. In a drunken haze I wander through the ends and chokehold of the area, the empty visage I always see in the statue, ignore my presence and remain static as they always do, I don't catch the sight of even a single fly or person. A thought invades my head: "This is way too much, one single step and death will catch me", Shut up!

A trek to the main hall happens, the hope and the horror to find a single being capturing my mind, the dread increasing as the emptiness of the doorways becomes my sole companion. What happened to everyone, what in the entire mind can make an entire group just vanish out from thin air?

Which festival, holiday or ritual could take place to make people disappear in this godforsaken place? Another of Validar's announcements, when had gone to war overnight and they forgot me? None of those is a possibility, right? It didn't stop them from knocking over my door, why would this time be any different!?

The splendor of the main hall marries the deserted floor, the purples and golds abandoned to the melodies of the unlistenable wind. Only I am the sole 'inhabitant' ' of this damnable place, whatever direction my foot leads, not even a single strand of hair as if everyone was abducted while the horrors occupied my mind in these 'hours". Or could it be days or even months? What time is it!?

Calm down, Calm down. Well, there are two options: go to the library and find some answers in the books or someone in there or go to the place where the messianic worship… It is obvious which is the place to go to right now.

I stride towards the walled gates belonging to the same place where I first met Reflet. I don't know whether to classify the memories with her and this location as good or bad even.

Surely, I didn't want to get into this mess in the first place, and just the fact I talk with her only brings me closer to Validar and his allies, therefore even closer to death and she is a complete mystery, especially how way she acts, is she Grimafied Robin or is it, Robinfied Grima? Or both? But the actual facts weren't so bad, it's pleasant to have a conversation with someone that doesn't want to kill me in the first place.

With a sigh, I enter the Library. No one greets me in here. A mixed sign, nobody will try to ask me as to why I'm doing such a task here since there is nobody, but what if someone appears and I'm not prepared for it? What can I do? I shake this thought, for now, I will not be able to find anything if I don't put myself at any kind of risk, as much as I despise the fact.

The search begins, the first of maybe one of the many that will direct me to who would try to kill me in the first place. Through the shelves, I gaze at the many books of history or genealogy from Plegia. Why didn't I look when I got here, I'm really dumb. I pick up one that may hold the answer, or the beginning of it: "The development of Plegia and its clans'

"One of the many characteristics of how Plegia developed is how brief their kings lasted, some say that king Munstair "the law-giver" was the longest, with only 30 years. But that is not to say that he ruled for over 30 years, something that all historians disagree with: he properly ruled for only 10 of them and the rest was in the control of the Grimleal.

At the same time, even when the Grimleal ruled the kingdom, more often than not, various internal conflicts happened, with sects trying to get a hold on power. Using Munstair's time as the King, there was one period where the Messianic sect and Orthodox vied for power, resulting in the famed 'broken years' where no one properly ruled, leading the clans to become effectively independent. And at the end of the conflict, both of the sects got so exhausted that the King was the only one with resources to command, leading to the wars of reunification and that would result in the famed Golden Age of Plegia."

Ok, that is not what I'm looking for.

How many books are here in the first place? I gaze back at the massive rows of codices, treats. At this pace, I will never be able to find even a single clue who could order my assassination.

I hear a stalking sound coming, the gates cracking for whatever being is coming. Damn, there isn't enough time to get out, I put my hand on the dagger and ready myself for whatever may come.

Out of the room comes an unsuspicious man with a small beard and unassuming aura, just another face in the crowd. There wasn't a lot of luxury nor elegance with his clothes, just some generic robes and that's it. Well, anything on this land spells trouble anyway. Have an eye on him.

I return to my book as a way to hide. Maybe he will notice I was only reading a book and was surprised, or so I hope. Unless he is someone with an agenda. Whatever is happening is not normal, and my next step will probably change something. As for why I don't know. What I know is something is very wrong. Underneath his air of obliviousness, he may hold a lot of information, or being here just turned into a madman.

He ignores and passes by without flinching for a single second. Phew, it just was a bystander, thanks.

Now the question becomes where I can go next? Maybe I-

"Didn't see you there," How the heck you didn't see me, I just watched some minutes or seconds ago!

"Why aren't you in prayer?" Real subtle, you are really subtle. He wants something.

"Well, I can say the same for you," His eyes go wild as he starts checking his surroundings and trying to speak some flimsy excuse. Not so sneaky as you would like to think, huh. It must be embarrassing, right?

"What… no…. I'm …" What I thought, he didn't come prepared, did he?

"Just tell me what you want with me?" He stops looking around him and starts to stare at my eyes.

"Nothing really, I'm just looking for some books,"

"Hmmm" And I return my gaze to the words surrounding me, avoiding his eyes.

"Are you from here? Your accent is weird, way too many vowels"

I left him hanging.

"Then you are a foreigner. Never thought that would be the case in the palace, unless you are a diplomat, of course?"

I don't answer him, he is getting way too close to my person. What the hell does he want with me?

"You are awfully silent. Huh, ignore me. I'm going to get myself a book" And he disappears to the shelves. I really need to go hide somewhere.

Closing the book, a question pops up in mind: should I return the book to where it belongs or let it sit here? Options, I hate options.

Some steps crash against the ground. I don't have much time left! Where do I put it or even I should put it!? I ignore it and leave the place, leaving the slab of paper behind. I fucked it up so hard! Why did I have this idea!? What is he even? I'm so screwed.

I run along the corridor not stopping for a single second. I have to get out of this mess as soon as possible! I ignore the world, the sounds, and the empty corridor and the architecture that eats people, and the hellish court. Nobody watches me, nobody watches me. Oh no, somebody's watching me. The tunnel vision contorts space as it becomes one sole direction and its eyes follow me, the statues melt and the eye of Grima disappears. This thing is human.

Here is my room! I go inside and lock it. Phew, what the hell was I thinking? I will need some change of plans right now. The whole mystery can go later, I need to survive, where did I fuckin put my flux? Where is it, where is it? Oh no, please don't tell me that I had forgotten the tome in Henry's room? Oh no. Knocks bang through the door, fuck it. I ready the dagger and slowly unlock it as I hide in the space between the wall and my desk, readying myself for him to enter.

"Oh interesting, don't tell me that you are that boy of Fatimid. Huh, this is getting very interesting." He doesn't enter the room. He gazes in my direction.

"Ready to kill me? What a shame. I have an interesting proposal if you are willing to listen." Well, should I believe it? If I strike him maybe I can kill him. What the hell are you thinking? Just one day has barely passed and you want to kill the guy, what the hell is wrong with you?

"What sort of proposal, then?"

"I'm so glad you asked. Very simple, you do some tasks I assign you and I give out information you may or may not be interested in. What a tempting offer, I know. Also before you go out and kill me, I have some friends in the upper regions, and they wouldn't like me dead."

"Why would I believe you?"

He smirks. "I can spread out the rumor you've tried to kill me. And the rest will be history."

Should I do the deed and eliminate him? Maybe, I don't know how much deep into court politics, and maybe eliminating him now will remove more trouble down the line. Or just ignore him and his rumors is not the first time I deal with some hatred from the public.

But how influential is he? His words may ring true, and I get Tharja and Robin into my troubles, and that would be problematic and selfish from my party. I don't want to hurt them more than I already do? But… But what do I do?

Yes, eliminate him and dump his body like did with the other guy. Nobody will know, right? And how people can incriminate me in this case, for all I know he isn't related to any scholar and they can't link me with his disappearance.

But what if it's true? Then he can be helpful for my goal.

What should I do? What the heck am I suppose to choose!?

He taps his foot against the ground. "C'mon, just tell me? I don't have enough time to waste, you know."

Okay, go with him, he may hold some information. And besides, it will be problematic down the line if his words are true. I will play his little game. That doesn't mean I shouldn't be careful, I don't know what else he may try.

"You have yourself a deal."

He smiles at my answer. "Good, very good indeed. Tomorrow, I will give you the task to be done. Have a good day and a nice martyr's day."

He gets out of the room and I fall down. That was pointless. What mess did I get into?

So that was the chapter. Thanks to Cavik and Sushion for beta reading and for all people that read my fic. As always reviews are appreciated. Also here is the link for the discord I participate in, feel free to drop in discord .gg/9XG3U7a

Cavik: Thanks for the compliments!

Sentinel951: I see, I will try to get better, and I'm happy that you liked some Gabriel action!

Now an announcement: Well as much it pains me to say this, I will enter hiatus in January and February, and will probably not post anything. There are many reasons for that. The first is that I have much more pressing concerns in my real life in this period. Although, I will return in March with new chapters

The second is that I'm feeling burned out of writing in general, as much I enjoy doing it. I hated writing this chapter, things simply didn't connect as much I tried, and to write even 100 words for it was a pure mind-numbing slog, and that is why I consider this the worst chapter I have ever done. Period. And for that I want to say sorry, It could go so much better, but I wasn't capable of doing that and that pains me, the best I hope for you all is that I make the next chapter good.

Also, 2020 was a mess for all of us, and I don't want to end this on a bitter note. Happy holidays and happy new year for you all, and hope 2021 is way better than whatever chaos was this.

And thanks for reading up to this point, I truly appreciate that.